FOR THE ENQUIRER. Tribute 0f q Friend to hhe Memory cf the De- a9arEpH
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parted. And art thou gone, my brother, From kindred, wife and friends, To seek better country,

 A "house not made with hands:" An soon sad fate befals thee, Cut down in manhood's bloom, But 'tis "the Master calls thee," And points thee to the tomb. What if thy skill's exerted To rear the house of prayer, What though fond hopes are cherished To meet thy Savior there? The stoWtest heart did falter

 To see thy cruel fate, Between the "porch and altar'' Thy warm life blood was split. Mysterious are the counsels

 Of him who rules above, Beyond the ken of mortals,

 But ordered all in love. Vet nature claims her tribute The sympathising tear, While anguish wrings the bosom To part with one 50 dear. But poorly can we spare thee, So brief have been thy days, Few knew thee but to love thee, Or named thee but to praise. That little group will mourn thee, Each Sabbath round thee drawn, To catch instruction from thee, And of their Savior learn. But should thy spirit hover

 Around the sacred spot, Reviewing scenes which never

 By us can be forgot: May joys increasing greet thee. To view the numbers given, Prepared by grace to meet thee, And learn the song of Heaven. South Farms, Aug. 1S44. c.