one human being bears to another, in his frailty—his bosom. The warmth of his heart seemed to ineven though that love forget or arraign his own un- fuse life into hers; and as he gently placed her feet sleeping providence. His voice has told us to love on the snow, till he muffled her up in his plaid, as one another and William loved Hannah in simpli. well as in her own, she made an effort to stand, and city, innocence, and truth. That she should perish with extreme perplexity and bewilderment faintly was a thought so dreadful, that, in its agony, God inquired, where she was, and what fearful misfortune seemed a ruthless being- blow-blow-blow-and had befallen them? She was, however, too weak drift us up for ever-we cannot be far asunder-Oto walk; and as her young master carried her along, Hannah-Hannah-think ye not that the fearful God she murmured, "O William! what if my father be has forsaken us?" in the moor?-For if you, who need care so little about me, have come hither, as I suppose, to save my life, you may be sure that my father sat not within doors during the storm." As she spoke it was calm below, but the wind was still alive in the upper air, and cloud, rack, mist, and sleet, were all driving about in the sky. Out shone for a moment the pallid and ghostly moon, through a rent in the gloom, and by that uncertain light, came staggering forward the figure of a man. Father-Father,"

As the boy groaned these words passionately through his quivering lips, there was a sudden lowness in the air, and he heard the barking of his absent dog, while the one at his feet hurried off in the direction of the sound, and soon loudly joined the cry. It was not a bark of surprise-or anger-or fear but of recognition and love. William sprung up from his bed in the snow, and with his heart knocking at his bosom even to sickness, he rushed headlong through the drifts, with a giant's strength, | cried Hannah-and his gray hairs were already on and fell down half dead with joy and terror beside the body of Hannah Lee.

her cheek. The barking of the dogs and the shouting of the young shepherd had struck his ear, as the sleep of death was stealing over him, and with the last effort of benumbed nature, he had roused himself from that fatal torpor, and pressed through the snow-wreath that had separated him from his child. As yet they knew not of the danger each had en. dured,—but each judged of the other's sufferings from their own, and father and daughter regarded one another as creatures rescued, and hardly yet

But he soon recovered from that fit, and lifting the cold corpse in his arms, he kissed her lips, and her cheeks, and her forehead, and her closed eyes, till, as he kept gazing on her face in utter despair, her head fell back on his shoulder, and a long deep sigh came from her inmost bosom. "She is yet alive, thank God!"—and as that expression left his lips for the first time that night, he felt a pang of remorse: "I said, O God, that thou hadst forsaken us-rescued, from death. I am not worthy to be saved; but let not this maiden perish, for the sake of her parents, who have no other child." The distracted youth prayed to God with the same earnestness as if he had been beseeching a fellow-creature, in whose hand was the power of life and of death. The presence of the Great Being was felt by him in the dark and howling wild, and strength was imparted to him as to a deliverer. He bore along the fair child in his arms, even as if she had been a lamb. The snow-drift blew not--the | wind fell dead-a sort of glimmer, like that of an upbreaking and disparting storm, gathered about him his dogs barked and jumped, and burrowed joyfully in the snow-and the youth, strong in sudden hope, exclaimed, « With the blessing of God, who has not deserted us in our sore distress, will I carry thee, Hannah, in my arms, and lay thee down alive in the house of thy father." At this moment there were no stars in heaven, but she opened her dim blue eyes upon him in whose bosom she was unconsciously lying, and said, as in a dream, «Send the riband that ties up my hair, as a keep-sake to William Grieve." She thinks that she is on her death-bed, and forgets not the son of her master. It is the voice of God that tells me she will not die, and that, under His grace, I shall be her deliverer." The short-lived rage of the storm was soon over, and William could attend to the beloved being on

But a few minutes ago, and the three human beings who loved each other so well, and now feared not to cross the moor in safety, were, as they thought, on their death-beds. Deliverance now shone upon them all like a gentle fire, dispelling that pleasant but deadly drowsiness; and the old man was soon able to assist William Grieve in leading Hannah Lee through the snow. Her colour and her warmth returned, and her lover-for so might he well now be called-felt her heart gently beating against his side. Filled as that heart was with gratitude to God, joy in her deliverance, love to her father, and purest affection for her master's son, never before had the innocent maiden known what was happiness-and never more was she to forget it. The night was now almost calm, and fast returning to its former beauty-when the party saw the first twinkle of the fire through the low window of the Cottage of the Moor. They soon were at the garden gate-and to relieve the heart of the wife and mother within, they talked loudly and cheerfully-naming each other familiarly, and laughing between, like persons who had known neither danger nor distress.

No voice answered from within-no footstep came to the door, which stood open as when the father had left it in his fear, and now he thought with affright that his wife, feeble as she was, had been unable to support the loneliness, and had fol

tle table which had stood so many hours spreadand exhausted nature was strengthened and restored by a frugal and simple meal partaken of in silent thankfulness. The whole story of the night was then recited-and when the mother heard how the stripling had followed her sweet Hannah into the storm, and borne her in his arms through a hundred drifted heaps-and then looked upon her in her pride, so young, so innocent, and so beautiful, she knew, that were the child indeed to become an orphan, there was one, who, if there was either trust in nature, or truth in religion, would guard and cherish her all the days of her life.

lowed him out into the night, never to be brought, had subsided, and they had all risen up from prayer, home alive. As they bore Hannah into the house, they gathered themselves in gratitude round the litthis fear gave way to worse, for there upon the hard clay floor lay the mother upon her face, as if murdered by some savage blow. She was in the same deadly swoon into which she had fallen on her husband's departure three hours before. The old man raised her up, and her pulse was still-so was her heart-her face pale and sunken--and her body cold as ice. "I have recovered a daughter," said the old man, but I have lost a wife;" and he carried her, with a groan, to the bed, on which he laid her life. less body. The sight was too much for Hannah, worn out as she was, and who had hitherto been able to support herself in the delightful expectation of gladdening her mother's heart by her safe arrival. It was not nine o'clock when the storm came She, too, now swooned away, and, as she was placed down from Glen Scrae upon the Black-moss, and on the bed beside her mother, it seemed indeed, that now in a pause of silence the clock struck twelve. death, disappointed of his prey on the wild moor, Within these three hours William and Hannah had had seized it in the cottage, and by the fire-side. led a life of trouble and of joy, that had enlarged The husband knelt down by the bed-side, and held and kindled their hearts within them-and they felt his wife's icy hand in his, while William Grieve, that henceforth they were to live wholly for each appalled and awe-stricken, hung over his Hannah, other's sakes. His love was the proud and exulting and inwardly implored God that the night's wild love of a deliverer who, under Providence, had saved adventure might not have so ghastly an end. But from the frost and the snow, the innocence and the Hannah's young heart soon began once more to beauty of which his young passionate heart had beat-and soon as she came to her recollection, she been so desperately enamoured-and he now thought rose up with a face whiter than ashes, and free from of his own Hannah Lee ever more moving about his all smiles, as if none had ever played there, and father's house, not as a servant, but as a daughterjoined her father and young master in their efforts and when some few happy years had gone by, his to restore her mother to life. own most beautiful and most loving wife. The innocent maiden still called him her young masterbut was not ashamed of the holy affection which she now knew that she had long felt for the fearless youth on whose bosom she had thought herself dying in that cold and miserable moor. Her heart leaped within her when she heard her parents bless him by his name-and when he took her hand into his before them, and vowed before that Power who had that night saved them from the snow, that Hannah Lee should ere long be his wedded wife-she wept and sobbed as if her heart would break in a fit of strange and insupportable happiness.

It was the mercy of God that had struck her down to the earth, insensible to the shrieking winds, and the fears that would otherwise have killed her. Three hours of that wild storm had passed over her head, and she heard nothing more than if she had been asleep in a breathless night of the summer dew. Not even a dream had touched her brain, and when she opened her eyes, which, as she thought, had been but a moment shut, she had scarcely time to recall to her recollection the image of her husband rushing out into the storm, and of a daughter therein lost, till she beheld that very husband kneeling tenderly by her bed-side, and that very daughter smoothing the pillow on which her aching temples reclined. But she knew from the white, steadfast countenances before her that there had been tribulation and deliverance, and she looked on the beloved beings ministering by her bed, as more fearfully dear to her from the unima gined danger from which she felt assured they had been rescued by the arm of the Almighty.

There is little need to speak of returning recollection, and returning strength. They had all now power to weep, and power to pray. The Bible had been lying in its place ready for worship-and the father read aloud that chapter in which is narrated our Saviour's act of miraculous power, by which he saved Peter from the sea. Soon as the solemn | thoughts awakened by that act of mercy so similar to that which had rescued themselves from death

The young shepherd rose to bid them farewellMy father will think I am lost," said he, with a grave smile, "and my Hannah's mother knows what it is to fear for a child." So nothing was said to detain him, and the family went with him to the door. The skies smiled as serenely as if a storm had never swept before the stars-the moon was sinking from her meridian, but in cloudless splendour-and the hollow of the hills was hushed as that of heaven. Danger there was none over the placid night-scene- the happy youth soon crossed the Blackmoss, now perfectly still-and, perhaps, just as he was passing, with a shudder of gratitude, the very spot where his sweet Hannah Lee had so nearly perished, she was lying down to sleep in her innocence, or dreaming of one now dearer to her than all on earth but her parents.

SONNETS ON THE LORD'S PRAYER

BY ROBERT T. CONRAD.

I. Our Father.

Our Father! Holiest name, first, fondest, best!
Sweet is the murmured music of the vow

Then, known no more the guile of gain, the leer
Of lewdness, frowning power, or pallid fear,
The shriek of suffering or the howl of crime!
All will be Thine-all best! Thy kingdom come!
Then in Thy arms the sinless earth will rest,
As smiles the infant on its mother's breast.

When young love's kiss first prints the maiden's The dripping bayonet and the kindling drum

brow;

But sweeter, to a father's yearning breast
His blue-eyed boy's soft prattle. This is love!-
Pure as the streamlets that distil through moun-
tains,

And drop, in diamonds, in their cavern'd fountains;
Warm as our heart-drops; true as truth above.
And is such Thine? For whom? For all-ev'n me!
Thou to whom all that is which sight can reach
Is but a sand-grain on the ocean beach
Of being! Down my soul: it cannot be!
But he hath said! Up, soul, unto His throne!
Father, our Father," bless and save thine own!

II. Who art in Heaven.

Unknown-for not a foe: the thong unknown

For not a slave: the cells, o'er which Despair
Flaps its black wing and fans the sigh-swoll'n air,
Deserted Night will pass, and hear no groan!
Glad Day look down nor see nor guilt nor guile;
And all that Thou hast made reflect Thy smile;

V. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Thy will be done on earth as 't is in heaven!

That will which chords the music-moving spheres,
With harmonies unheard by mortal ears;
And, losing which, our orb is jarred and riven.
Ours a crush'd harp! Its strings by tempests shaken;
Swept by the hand of sin, its guilty tones
Startle the spheres with discord and with groans;

Who art in Heaven! Thou know'st nor mete nor By virtue, peace, hope-all but Thee-forsaken!

bound.

Thy presence is existence. 'Neath thine eye,
Systems spring forth, revolve, and shine--and die;
Ev'n as, to us, within their little round,
The bright sands in the eddying hill-side spring,
Sparkle and pass for ever down the stream.
Slow-wheeling Saturn, of the misty beam,
Circles but atoms with his mighty wing;
And bright-eyed Sirius, but a sentry, glows
Upon the confines of infinity.

Where Thou art not, ev'n Nothing cannot be !
Where Thy smile is, is Heaven; where not-all

woes,

Sin's chaos and its gloom. Grant thy smile be
My light of life, to guide me up to Thee!

III. Hallowed be Thy name.

Hallowéd be Thy name! In every clime,

'Neath every sky! Or in this smiling land,

Oh, be its chords restrung! Thy will be done!
Mysterious law! Our griefs approve that will :
For as shades haunt the night, grief follows ill;
And bliss tends virtue, as the day the sun.
Homage on earth, as 'tis on high, be given:
For when Thy will is done, then earth is heaven!

VI.

Give us this day our daily bread.

Give us this day our daily bread! Thou art
Lord of the harvest. Thou hast taught the song
Sung by the rill the grassy vale along;
And 't is Thy smile, when Summer's zephyrs start,
That makes the wavy wheat a sea of gold!

Give me to share thy boon! No miser hoard
I crave; no splendor; no Apician board;
Freedom, and faith, and food-and all is told;
I ask no more. But spare my brethren! they
Now beg, in vain, to toil; and cannot save
Their wan-eyed lov'd ones, sinking to the grave.

Where Vice, bold-brow'd, and Craft walk hand in Give them their daily bread! How many pray, hand,

And varnish'd Seeming gives a grace to Crime;

Or in the howling wild, or on the plain,

Alas, in vain, for food! Be Famine fed;
And give us, Lord, this day, our daily bread!

Where Pagans' tremble at their rough-hewn God; VII. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those

Wherever voice hath spoke or foot hath trod;
Sacred Thy name! The skeptic wild and vain ;
Rous'd from his rosy joys, the Osmanlite;

The laughing Ethiop; and the dusk Hindoo :
Thy sons of every creed, of every hue;
Praise Thee! Nor Earth alone. Each star of night,
Join in the choir! till Heaven and Earth acclaim-
Still, and for ever, Hallowed be Thy name!

IV. Thy kingdom come.

who trespass against us.

Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive
Those who against us trespass! Thongh we take
Life, blessings, promis'd heaven, from Thee; we
make

Life a long war 'gainst Him in whom we live!
Pure once; now like the Cities of the Plain,
A bitter sea of death and darkness rolls
Its heavy waves above our buried souls.
Yet wilt Thou raise us to the light again,

Thy kingdom come! Speed, angel wings, that time! Worms as we are, if we forgive the worm

VOICES OF THE TRUE HEARTED.

No. 10.