“Why am I so happy this morning?” said Isabella Gardner, as she arose from her bed, just one year after the day on which this little history of her trials commenced:  “because, through the grace of God, I have, in some degree, subdued my sinful and unruly temper.”

  Youthful temptations.

  Many a snare and temptation, young friend,
    Will often obtrude in your way,
  And constantly every footstep attend,
    And threaten to lead you astray.

  Perhaps you’ll be tempted to hazard a lie,
    Some trivial fault to conceal;
  But remember that God, the all-seeing, is nigh,
    And will one day the falsehood reveal.

  You’ll be tempted to cheat your companions at play,
    For the sake of a marble or top;
  But they who once enter dishonesty’s way,
    Will find it not easy to stop.

  You’ll be tempted, perhaps, holy friends to despise,
    And follow the godless and vain;
  But ever remember to walk with the wise
    If heaven you seek to attain.

  Another temptation will lie in your road,—­
    To think that religion is sad;
  But none are so happy as those who love God,
    And none are so dull as the bad.

  Beware, too, of slighting the day of the Lord,
    And never its duties neglect;
  But meet with his people, and rev’rence his word,
    If you would his blessing expect.

  But though such temptations your path will attend,
    The Lord will still make you his care,—­
  Will be, if you seek him, your guide and your friend,
    ’Mid every temptation and snare.

* * * * *

  Heaven.

  Far beyond the furthest sky,
  Never seen by mortal eye,
  Heaven in dazzling beauty lies,—­
  An unfading paradise.

  Evening dim, and gloomy night,
  Never veil that world of light;
  Winter never sojourns there,
  Summer reigns throughout the year.

  In one bright unclouded day
  Endless ages roll away;
  There, beneath the unsetting sun,
  Years of ceaseless pleasure run.

  There the good, in concord sweet,
  Worship at Jehovah’s feet,—­
  Raise the song, with joy unknown,
  Circling round his holy throne.

  Works of love, and songs of joy,
  All the happy hours employ;
  Sickness, trouble, want, and pain,
  Seek admittance there in vain.

  There shall He who, laugh’d to scorn,
  Wore the piercing crown of thorn,
  Hear his praise in sweetest chords,
  King of kings, and Lord of lords.

  O may I, when life is pass’d,
  Join that happy throng at last;
  Through the great Redeemer’s blood,
  Sing with them, and dwell with God.

* * * * *

  Improvement.

  How many poor children I see every day
    Who have no one to guide them aright! 
  No wonder in vice they should wander astray,
    And in all that is evil delight.