Weary pilgrim in life’s rugged journey, there is a haven of peace, where thy worn spirit may find rest.  There is a chart to guide thee over the troubled sea, and a pilot stands ready to steer thy little bark aright.

His beams can ever shed a cheering ray upon thy toilsome way; and, oh, may you see light in his light.

The broad ocean of eternity lays before us; into that must our little shallop pass, and meet its final award.  This, this is all that is worth living for—­happy entrance into the presence of God, that

  “We may bathe our weary souls,
  In seas of heavenly rest.”

The Fatal Feast.

  Wealth would have a birth-day ball,
    A high and lordly feast: 
  And open’d wide his spacious hall,
    And ask’d in many a guest.

  They came—­the trifling ones of earth,—­
    A gay and thoughtless throng,
  To join in revelry and mirth,
    With music, dance and song.

  High waxen tapers burning bright,
    Illum’d the brilliant hall,
  And threw their soft, enchanting light,
    In dazzling rays o’er all.

  Soft music echoed sweetest tones,
    By unseen minstrels breath’d;
  The air was laden with perfume,
    From flow’rs that round were wreath’d.

  Beauty was there, with brilliant eye. 
    And Health, with rosy cheek,—­
  Manhood, with forehead stern and high,
    And youth with many a freak.

  All—­all were sparkling, bright and gay,
    And join’d the dance or song,—­
  And seem’d unto the gazer’s eye,
    A happy, joyous throng.

  And Wealth spread out his costly feast,
    And gaily all partook: 
  The choicest viands cheered each guest,
    As all with pleasure look.

  For Luxury’s self ne’er spread a board
    With dainties so profuse,—­
  The most fastidious must be pleas’d,
    For he had but to choose.

  One goblet fill’d with nectar bright,
    The centre seem’d to keep;
  And when ’twas pass’d among the guests,
    They all quaff’d long and deep.

  The music never ceas’d its strain;
    But warbl’d low and sweet;—­
  Sometimes, soft wailing, ’twould complain—­
    Then mirth the ear would greet.

  All seem’d enchantment spread around,—­
    A golden, fairy dream;
  And far off, mingling in the sound,
    Was heard a murmuring stream.

  And summer breezes softly sigh’d,—­
    And wasted sweet perfume,
  Through door and lattice, open’d wide,
    Around the spacious room.

  When mirth was in its wildest mood,
    And reign’d in every breast,
  Sudden there stalk’d into the hall,
    An uninvited guest.

  The air grew chill, the lamps burn’d pale,—­
    All gaz’d with wild dismay,
  The music turn’d a funeral wail,—­
    Then sighing, died away.