THE HEAVENLY CANAAN. 66 Is that fair Canaan's coast ? Are those her mountains high ?” Cry Israel's eager host, As in the camp they lie. Let's send a little band Of brave and faithful men, To search the pleasant land, And bring us word again." The chosen band departs ; What scenes before them rise, To charm their anxious hearts, And their astonished eyes ! They climb the mountain's side, Whence cooling waters flow : They cross the valleys wide, Where golden harvests grow ; Pass through the woods, where bees Sip honey from each flower, And in the hollow trees Hide their delicious store ; View gardens where the vine And olive-trees are seen, The sheep and lowing kine Amidst the pastures green. But while the beauteous land They view with great delight, They see where cities stand With walls of wondrous height, And towers tall and strong, And gates of iron and brass ; And 'midst the countless throng Some who the rest surpass ; Men of enormous size, Who wield the sword and spear And in whose sight the spies Like grasshoppers appear. But why should such a sight Fill Israel with dismay? Their God for them shall fight, And they shall win the day :For idols are adored By Canaan's wicked race, And cups of blood are poured Before each idol's face, And helpless babies bleed Amongst the thickest trees, And every wicked deed Is done those Gods to please. There is a land more fair a Than any land below, And I would enter there, In spite of every foe. Then let me now begin To strive with all my might To overcome all sin, However hard the fight. The Lord will give me strength, And fill my soul with grace, And I shall reach at length His heavenly dwelling-place. THE DAISY. Not worlds on worlds in phalanx deep For who but He who arch'd the skies, Mould its green cup, its wiry stem; And fling it, unrestrain’d and free, DR. Good. THE MISSIONARY'S FAREWELL TO ENGLAND. QUEEN of the Isles ! where Hope entwin'd And youth delighted flew, And bid thy shores adieu ! Sweet impress of the hand divine ! Man seeks in vain below; And light on all bestow. But, ah ! thy glorious deeds of yore Or wake the poet's fire ; A nobler song inspire. Yet prostrate at the mercy-seat, Cherish'd with filial love; Thy messenger to be ; My home, my heaven in Thee. H. E. CHARITY. " The very bond of perfectness." WHERE no charity abounds All the Christian path adorning, Vain our speech, as hollow sounds, Or the tinkling cymbal's warning. 'Tis the seamless warp and woof Of the Christian's purest vesture ; 'Tis the earnest, and the proof Of his holy life and gesture. 'Tis the Spirit's richest fruit; 'Tis of holiness the measure ; Of all virtues 'tis the root ; Of all gifts the chiefest treasure. W. L. N. Remember all who love thee, All who are lov'd by thee; If any such there be. Then for thyself, in meekness, A blessing humbly claim, And link with each petition Thy great Redeemer's name. |