SABBATH LYRICS.

BY W. GILMORE SIMMS.

GOD THE GUARDIAN.—­PSALM XI.

  How say ye to my soul,
    As a mountain bird depart? 
  For the wicked bend the bow,
    With the aim upon the heart. 
  In the Lord I put my trust—­
    The Great Giver of my breath—­
  He is mighty as he’s just,
   He wilt guard my soul from death.

  On his holy throne he sits,
    With his eye o’er all the earth;
  But his shaft, that slays the vile,
    Never harms the breast of worth. 
  The man of wrath he dooms
    To the terror and the blight;
  But his love the soul sustains
    That walks humbly in his sight.

* * * * *

LET WELL ENOUGH ALONE.

BY MRS. EMMA BALL.

“A word spoken in due season, how good is it!” and how often is its influence more lasting and more beneficial than at the time of its utterance either speaker or hearer dreams of.

To illustrate.  When about seventeen, I was, at my earnest solicitation, placed in a seminary, with the understanding that for one year I should devote myself to study, and thus become better fitted for future usefulness as a teacher.  How I had wished for such an opportunity!  How often had my wish been disappointed! and how narrowly I had escaped disappointment even then!  But I was there at last, and everything seemed to be just as I would have it.  Thus far I had studied unaided, and amid incessant interruptions.  Now I could obtain assistance, and command the necessary leisure.  The last four years I had passed in a crowded city.  Now I breathed the purest atmosphere, and the scenery around me was of surpassing beauty.  My window commanded the prettiest view; and, better still, I had no room-mate to disturb me with unwelcome chit-chat.  Who could be happier than I?  There was but one inconvenience, one drawback to the feeling of entire satisfaction with which, day after day, I looked around “my charming little room;” and that was the position of my bedstead.  I did not like that; for the head was so near the door as to leave no room for my table; and consequently, as I could not place my lamp in perfect safety near my bed, I was compelled either to waste the precious hour before broad daylight, or to rise and study in a freezing room.  “If I could only turn this bedstead round,” thought I, “so that the head would be near the table, how many hours I might save!” and I resolved that, on the coming Saturday, I would make the desirable change.  On the afternoon of that day, I was engaged to ride home with one of the teachers, and the morning I had intended to devote to sewing and study:  “but no matter,” thought I; “by a little extra effort I can accomplish all.”  Accordingly, when Saturday came I commenced operations; but, after removing the bed and mattress I discovered, to my great concern, that, although the bedstead would stand as I wished, yet