Retrace them one by one, as from the way

They deviate to the right hand and the left-
Here o'er the flinty rocks, there through the marsh?
Ah, no, poor human life! to have outlived,
Is to have quite outworn, thy happiest hours;
Thy oil of joy swims on a sea of tears,
Thy sunbeams are refracted on dark clouds.
And-deepest aggravation of our woe-
The drop which still bedews affliction's eye
Is to it like the glass that cheats the vision,
And multiplies one sorrow to a thousand.
Live o'er my life again !-Yes, the fond heart
Yearns for the flood of our departed years,
But yearns not for the bed in which it flowed.
Oh, could I grasp the torrent in my hand,
And pour it forth afresh, and guide its way
By a new course and channel to the main,
Then would I wish to live life o'er again.

In spirit thus, at my life's source I stand;
Gazing upon the silvery rill, methought
My burdened heart to solace with the sight,
But, lo, my tears have stained the waters bright.
Yet is it so? Does life but once begin?
Yes, only once for him, who must repair
To-morrow, while it lasts, this day's neglects;
For him who, as he journeys on his way,
Bears onward with him still from stage to stage
A vast and an accumulating load

Of sins, and of omissions, debts, and cares,
Up to the gates of the eternal world.

Yes, it begins but once; for time is swift,-
No morrow ever overtakes to-day—
No day is ever longer than another;

But, ah! our debts swell like the avalanche,
And if unpaid we leave them when we die,
Unpaid they stand through all eternity.

Not such my case, oh no; for I have found
The elixir that imparts immortal youth,
O'erwhelms the gloomy shadows of the past,
And life, both in its dawn and day, restores.
O blessed power of faith! I know thee well;
Thou, like the great Creator's mighty fiat,
Dost swallow, in a moment, ancient night,
And call a new, more glorious world to light.

Yes, I do know thee well; and if this day,
When by the guilt of a whole year weighed down,
And even by my own partial heart condemned,
I yet can calmly lift my eyes to heaven,
The praise, O wonder-working faith, is thine.
Thou from the chaos in this breast of mine,
Where midnight and despair had fixed their reign,
Didst life evoke, and love to life again.

What was I? I know not. What am I now? A new-born babe bearing his Father's name, A shield from every harm, upon his brow; And who, though thousand foes against him come, Walks undismayed to his eternal home.

Oh what a change, baffling all thought to fathom! Sunk in despair, I only lived to sigh; Now all my grief is turned to ecstasy.

Then in Thy vineyard let me still remain,

And Thou shalt seek no longer fruit in vain ;
For though the past have Thy forbearance proved,
Yet, sure, if grace for grace thus overflow,
The heart, however cold, at last will glow-

My first works I will do, and love as once I loved.

Thou peaceful spot, where on my wakening soul
The light of Grace its earliest radiance shed,

And, yet untasted sorrow's poisoned bowl,

Through my young being a sweet tincture spread,—

How does thine air, so soft and balmy, still

The pilgrim warm in age's evening chill!

Life oped to me her gates, and at my feet
Scattered the glittering gauds that tempt desire.
Proud Science called me to her sacred seat,

And Art allured with all her smiling quire.
The world my brow with honour's chaplets bound,
And wide and wider stretched the circle round.

Life's lowly hut a lordly palace grew,

Swelled to a spacious sea the little lake;
Alas! as if disaster it foreknew,

On the wide scene, my heart began to ache;
And with a longing, mixed of joy and pain,
Sighed for the little hut and lake again.

And wherefore thus, even when at noontide high
Sparkles life's sea, as if with gems bestrewed,
Back to the peaceful lake of Infancy,

Pants the fond heart with longing unsubdued?
It is because, while lasts sweet childhood's morn,
The rosy hues of Grace the scene adorn.

70.

Baptism.

Oh ill betides the little stone

That on some desert waste is thrown,

And there forsaken lies:

And such by nature, child, thou wert,
But now we take thee and insert
Into a glorious edifice.

ROMANS, vi. 4. "Therefore we are buried with Him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life."

IT

T is a joyful sight when the parent looks upon his newborn babe. "A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come; but as soon as she is delivered

of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world."1 To see before me a life, of which I can say that it is a portion of my own—a human being bodily and spiritually knit by the closest and most indissoluble bonds to myself-awakens deep emotion. The feeling is akin to pride, but pride it should not be; for how can we be justly proud of what we only receive as a boon? Besides, the same thought which here uplifts the mind, is calculated also to humble it. For what patrimony can I convey to my offspring? I may give him all that I am by nature. I cannot give him what I have become by grace; and the errors, conflicts, and defeats through which I have forced my way, await also him. Oh then, that at the very commencement of his course I could secure for him a blessing, which might serve for a helmet on his head, and a buckler about his breast, as he journeys on his way!

Surely there can be no parent but must have heartily thanked God for that passage of Gospel history which informs us that the Saviour welcomed little children when they were brought unto Him, and took them in His arms and blessed them. After this there can be no mistake that He loves the little ones; that He does not despise them because they are born flesh of flesh; nay, that He even looks upon them as possessed of softer hearts than ours. And if so, how can we ever doubt that He beholds it with approbation and delight, when, convinced that the best blessings we ourselves possess are those derived from Him, we bring to Him also our little ones and crave the same gifts for them? He has declared that all who resemble these little ones-all who, like them, with eager eye and outstretched hand are seeking for a guide—are welcome to His kingdom; surely, then, the little ones themselves must be heartily welcome too. They are so ready to obey the look, the nod, the word of man. Oh were the Saviour to undertake the charge of them, and from the first to operate upon their tender minds, with what alacrity they would follow His direction!

1 John, xvi. 21.

It is true I do not clearly understand the way in which He imparts His blessing in the holy ordinance of baptism; but just as little do I clearly understand how the blessing was imparted to the children upon whom in the days of His flesh He put His hand. And yet nothing can be more certain than that it was no vain word which He then spoke, and that neither in infancy nor riper years did any one ever feel the Saviour's gracious hand upon his head without at the same time feeling the Saviour's gracious power within his heart. We are often conscious of a strong sense of gladness in all the veins and members of the natural man, and yet we cannot tell whence it proceeds. If, however, it arise from the imperceptible influence of the air, which, warmed and tempered by the material sun, penetrates through secret and invisible pores, and operates with exhilarating effect upon the fountain of natural life, why may not the breath of the Spirit of Jesus be able to penetrate, with the same genial efficacy, into the human soul, and there awaken life in its inmost seat? Oh when, in the plenitude of faith, I take the child which He has given me, and given me to rear for heaven, and presenting it to Him, say,—Lord, I know that of myself I am unequal to the task-I therefore choose Thee to be the proper Father of my child; receive him under Thy care, and train him in the right way,-this is an entreaty which He never will reject. He graciously answers, Yes. And what else but this gracious answer is the sacrament of baptism, which He makes the appointed minister of His Word dispense to my child?

"He that believeth and is baptised shall be saved." For the present, indeed, the child is incapable of faith, and all that can be done is for me in his name to say, I believe. But then if the child believes me, and if I assure him, and confirm by actions the truth of my words, that there is none else to whom I can go for eternal life but unto Jesus, he will be disposed to believe that too on my assurance; and in so far his faith is concealed and wrapped up in mine. Neither let it be forgotten that the Saviour opened His Church to believers