THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

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The week is past! And has it brought

Some beams of sweet and soothing thought?

And has it left some memory dear Of heavenly raptures tasted here! It has not winged its flight in vain, Although it ne'er return again.

And who would sigh for its return? We are but pilgrims born to mourn; And moments, as they onward flow, Cut short the thread of human woe, And bring us nearer to the scenes Where sorrows end and heaven begins. BOWRING.

THE MEMORY OF THE JUST.

PEACE to the just man's memory, let it grow Greener with years, and blossom through the flight

Of ages; let the mimic canvass shew

His calm benevolent features; let the light Stream on his deeds of love, that shunned the sight

Of all but Heaven, and, in the book of fame, The glorious record of his virtues write,