Come, ye disconsolate.

Air-German.

Come, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish,
Come, at the shrine of God fervently kneel;

Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your ev'ry

wish,

Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,

Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure, Here speaks the comforter, in God's name saying— "Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure."

Go, ask the infidel, what boon he brings us,
What charm for aching hearts he can reveal
Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us-
"Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal."

Awake, arise! thy Light is come!

Air-Stevenson.

Awake, arise! thy Light is come!

The nations, that before outshone thee,
Now at thy feet lie dark and dumb-
The glory of the Lord is on thee!

Arise!-the Gentiles, to thy ray,

From ev'ry nook of earth shall cluster;

And kings and princes haste to pay
Their homage to thy rising lustre.

Lift

up thine eyes around, and see, O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters, Thy exil'd sons return'd to thee,

To thee return thy home-sick daughters:

And camels rich, from Midian's tents,

Shall lay their treasures down before thee; And Saba bring her gold and scents, To fill thy air and sparkle o'er thee.

See-who are these, that, like a cloud,
Are gath'ring from all earth's dominions,
Like doves long absent, when allow'd
Homeward to shoot their trembling pinions?

Surely the isles shall wait for me—

The ships of Tarshish round will hover,

To bring thy sons across the sea,

And waft their gold and silver over:

And Lebanon thy pomp shall grace-
The fir, the pine, the palm victorious,

Shall beautify our holy place,

And make the ground I tread on, glorious.

No more shall discord haunt thy ways,
Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation;
But thou shalt call thy portals praise,

And thou shalt name thy walls salvation.

The sun no more shall make thee bright,
Nor moon shall lend her lustre to thee-

But God himself shall be thy light,

And flash eternal glory through thee.

Thy sun shall never more go down;
A ray from Heaven itself descended,
Shall light thy everlasting crown—

Thy days of mourning all are ended.

My own elect and righteous land!

The branch, for ever green and vernal, Which I have planted with this hand, Live thou shalt, in life eternal!

There is a bleak desert.

dir-Crescenam.

There is a bleak desert, where daylight grows weary Of wasting its smile on a region so dreary

What may that desert be?

'Tis life, cheerless life, where the few joys that come Are lost, like that daylight, for 'tis not their home.

There is a lone pilgrim, before whose faint eyes
The water he pants for but sparkles and flies-
Who may that pilgrim be?

'Tis man, hapless man, thro' this life tempted on
By fair shining hopes, that in shining are gone.

There is a bright fountain thro' that desert stealing, To pure lips alone its refreshment revealingWhat may that fountain be?

'Tis truth, holy truth, that, like springs under ground, By the gifted of Heaven alone can be found.

There is a fair spirit, whose wand hath the spell
To point where those waters in secrecy dwell-
Who may that spirit be?

'Tis faith, humble faith, who hath learn'd that where'er Her wand stoops to worship, the truth must appear.

Since first thy word.

Air-Nicholas Freeman,

Since first thy word awak'd my heart,
Like new life dawning o'er me,
Where'er I turn mine eyes, thou art
All light and love before me!—
Nought else I feel, or hear, or see,
All bonds of earth I sever;
Thee, oh God! and only Thee,
I live for, now and ever.

Like him, whose fetters dropp'd away
When light shone o'er his prison,
My spirit, touch'd by mercy's ray,
Hath from her chains arisen.
And shall a soul Thou bidd'st be free,
Return to bondage? Never!
Thee, oh God! and only Thee,
I live for, now and ever.

Hark! 'tis the breeze.

Air-Rousseau.

Hark! 'tis the breeze of twilight, calling Earth's weary children to repose; While, round the couch of Nature falling, Gently the night's soft curtains close. Soon o'er a world, in sleep reclining, Numberless stars, thro' yonder dark, Shall look, like eyes of cherubs shining From out the vails that hid the Ark.

Guard us, oh Thou, who never sleepest! Thou who, in silence thron'd above, Throughout all time, unwearied keepest Thy watch of Glory, Power, and Love!

Grant that, beneath thy eye, securely
Our souls, awhile from life withdrawn,
May, in their darkness, stilly, purely,

Like "sealed fountains," rest till dawn!