Like his Divine Master, he goes about doing good.  Oftener than ever is he found amongst the sons and daughters of affliction; more than ever are they objects of his special care; his precept is blessed by his example, and thus many a prodigal son has he recalled from his wanderings, many an outcast gathered into the fold, many a wayworn pilgrim pointed to his true rest, many a mourner comforted.  They saw that the resignation he preached to others he practised himself; they saw that the hand of the Lord was heavy upon him, but that yet he turned not backward; they saw that he went his way as a pilgrim pressing forward to a better country.  Most brilliant will be the diadem which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give him in the last day, for are not these words of Holy Writ, “They who turn many to righteousness shall shine like the stars for ever and ever?”

OUTWARD MINISTERINGS.

  EACH owns some secret law;—­the flowers that flourish
    Bloom in their season, in their season die;
  Dews flow beneath, their feeble strength to nourish,
    The wind, Earth’s angels, life’s sweet breath supply.

  As in the wondrous world of faultless Nature,
    So in the moral universe of man,
  Given for the spirit’s every form and feature,
    Are powers fulfilling its immortal plan.

  Whether its aim be fixed on seeking Pleasure,
    Whilst draining deep her falsely-sparkling bowl,
  Or in the light of Love be sought the treasure
    Whose worth may satisfy the craving soul;

  Whether it court the applause of listening nations,
    And toil, with earnest energy, for fame,
  Or seek with nobler hopes those elevations,
    Whence from its God with spotless robes it came: 

  All help to lead it on; to Truth or Error,
    Darkness or Light, as its own pathway lies;
  Here, seeming seraphs, hidden shapes of terror,
    There, darksome shadows, angels in disguise.

  Behold yon miser bend, with palsied fingers,
    O’er the rich gold around him glittering piled,
  How, with a father’s care, he tireless lingers
    By life’s all-precious hope, his darling—­child.

  Fond wretch! his aim to narrow life is bounded,
    Yet, true to Nature, all for him hath proved;
  The glorious gifts that once his path surrounded,
    Have served to strengthen feelings basely loved!

  By glittering lights, behold yon splendid palace,
    See squalid youth and beauty enter there,
  Eager to drown within the brimming chalice,
    All pangs of grief—­all thoughts of woe or care.

  Alas! for them, that such a sad fruition
    Should burst from seeds bright with the hues of Time;
  These specious splendours fail not in their mission,
    But spur their spirits on the road to crime!

  In yonder room, behold a beauteous maiden,
    Who bright the standard of her hope unrolls;
  But, oh! that smiling bark, with evil laden,
    Leads on to fatal depths, or treacherous shoals!