Miriam's Song.

Air-Avison. 73

"And Miriam, the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her, with timbrels and with dances."-Exod xv. 20.

Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph'd-his people are free.
Sing-for the pride of the Tyrant is broken:

His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave, How vain was their boasting!-The Lord hath but spoken,

And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumph'd-his people are free.

Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord,
His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword!
Who shall return to tell Egypt the story

Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride? For the Lord hath look'd out from his pillar of glory,7

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And all her brave thousands are dash'd in the tide. Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumph'd-his people are free.

Go, let me weep.

Air-Stevenson.

Go, let me weep! there's bliss in tears,
When he who sheds them, inly feels
Some lingering stain of early years
Effac'd by every drop that steals.
The fruitless showers of worldly wo

Fall dark to earth, and never rise;
While tears that from repentance flow,

In bright exhalement reach the skies. Go, let me weep! there's bliss in tears, When he who sheds them, inly feels Some lingering stain of early years Effac'd by every drop that steals.

Leave me to sigh o'er hours that flew
More idly than the summer's wind,
And, while they pass'd, a fragrance threw,
But left no trace of sweets behind.
The warmest sigh that pleasure heaves
Is cold, is faint to those that swell
The heart where pure repentance grieves
O'er hours of pleasure, lov'd too well!
Leave me to sigh o'er days that flew

More idly than the summer's wind,
And while they pass'd, a fragrance threw,
But left no trace of sweets behind.

Come not, Oh Lord!

Air-Haydn.

Come not, Oh Lord! in the dread robe of splendour Thou wor'st on the Mount, in the day of thine ire; Come veil'd in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender, Which Mercy flings over thy features of fire!

Lord! thou rememb’rest the night, when thy nation 75
Stood fronting her foe by the red-rolling stream;
On Egypt thy pillar frown'd dark desolation,76
While Israel bask'd all the night in its beam.

So, when the dread clouds of anger enfold Thee,
From us,
in thy mercy, the dark side remove;
While shrouded in terrors the guilty behold Thee,
Oh! turn upon us the mild light of thy love!

Were not the sinful Mary's tears.

Air-Stevenson.

Were not the sinful Mary's tears

An offering worthy Heaven,
When o'er the faults of former years

She wept--and was forgiven ?

When bringing every balmy sweet
Her day of luxury stor❜d,

She o'er her Saviour's hallow'd feet
The precious perfumes pour'd ;-

And wip'd them with that golden hair
Where once the diamond shone,
Though now those gems of grief were there
Which shine for God alone!

Were not those sweets, so humbly shed-
That hair-those weeping eyes--
And the sunk heart, that inly bled-
Heav'n's noblest sacrifice?

Thou, that hast slept in error's sleep,
Oh! wouldst thou wake in heaven,
Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep,
“Love much”—and be forgiven !77

As down in the sunless retreats.

Air-Haydn.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So, deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee;

Saint Augustine to his sister.

Air-Moore.

Oh fair! oh purest! be thou the dove
That flies alone to some sunny grove;
And lives unseen, and bathes her wing,
All vestal white, in the limpid spring.
There, if the hovering hawk be near,
That limpid spring in its mirror clear
Reflects him, ere he can reach his prey,
And warns the timorous bird away.
Oh! be like this dove;

Oh fair! oh purest! be like this dove.

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The sacred pages of God's own book
Shall be the spring, the eternal brook,
In whose holy mirror, night and day,
Thou wilt study Heaven's reflected ray:
And should the foes of virtue dare
With gloomy wing to seek thee there,
Thou wilt see how dark their shadows lie
Between Heaven and thee, and trembling fly !
Oh! be like the dove;

Oh fair! oh purest! be like the dove.