ection of the various
compositions with which he has relieved the monotony and arduous labors
of his professional and official career, would vindicate his title to be
classed with those prelates who have been most eminent in the literary
world.

The following poems, from autographs of Bishop Spencer, we believe are
first given to the public in the _International_.

"HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP."

I tread the church-yard's path alone,
Unseen to shed the gushing tear:
I read on many a mould'ring stone
Fond records of the good and dear.
My soul is well-nigh faint with fear,
Where doubting many went to weep;
And yet what sweet repose is here--
"He giveth His beloved sleep!"

The world has but a feverish rest,
To weary pilgrims sometimes given,
When pleasure's cup has lost its zest,
And glory's hard-earned crown is riven.
Here, softer than the dews of even
Fall peaceful on the slumbering deep,
Asleep to earth, awake to heaven--
"He giveth His beloved sleep."

Yes, on the grave's hard pillows rise
No cankering cares, no dreams of woe;
On earth we close our aching eyes,
And heavenward all our visions grow.
The airs of Eden round us flow,
And in their balm our slumbers steep.
God calls His chosen home, and so
"He giveth His beloved sleep."

Ah! vainly could the human voice,
In this dull world of sin and folly,
Tell how the sainted dead rejoice
In those high realms where joy is holy--
Where no dim shade of melancholy
Beclouds the rest which angels keep,
Where, peace and bliss united wholly
"He giveth His beloved sleep."

If on that brow so fair, so young,
Affliction trace an early furrow,
If Hope's too dear, delusive tongue
Has broke its promise of to-morrow,
Seek not the world again, to borrow
The deathful print its votaries reap.
Man gives his loved ones pain and sorrow,
God "giveth His beloved sleep."

* * * * *

LINES WRITTEN ON WITNESSING A CONFIRMATION, IN BERMUDA, IN 1826.

Veil'd in robes of snowy whiteness,
Filled with love and sacred fear,
Forms of beauty, eyes of brightness,
At the altar's foot appear.

There with hearts oppressed with feeling
What their dying Saviour felt;
At His throne of mercy kneeling
Where their pious parents knelt,

Many