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 ON THE DEATH or ps. CHALMERS. Not a sound was heard, save the mutnur of gIiet, As the mouSniul tidiDgs were spreading; Not heart hut was sad, not an eye but vas diin s With the tear of sorrow shedding. No pains distracted his aged frame, No feelings OT sickness cr sorrow, While he sank to rest with his heart engaged With useful deeds of the morrow. The morning came, but the angel of death Had passed OCT the camp; and they found him Asleep, like christian warrior st rest, With hs enblems of warfare around him. The good hght of faith he had fought upon eaflh, With the sword of the spirit conteuding He had hnished bis mid she troubles below. To ihe realms of glory assembling No bloolshed followed his peaceful course, Nor the scenes of opPrcssion and plunder, Noa the desolalc remnants of ruined homes With their families torn asunder. His footsteps were strewed wiih blessings oI peace Aud his voice was the herald of glaainess; lie cheefed with his presence the homes oI the poor Dispelliug the dark clouds of sadness. Though statesmen viewed coldly his schemes t'

 reclaim

 The outc sst poor of the nation, With the kindness of Howard and boidness D es& Knox,

 He piled still his heavenly vocation. Sadly they'll grieve who rejected his plans, y And in ignorance dared to upbraid him, For hts counsels will flourish while yet he sleeps OH Iu the grave where the thousands have laid him