Where science leads thee to explore In every star a sun. Thus, when some long-loved comfort ends, Faith to the heaven of heavens ascends, First faint and small, then clear and bright, As stars that seem but points of light THE MOUNTAIN SANCTUARY. Wedder. BLEAK was the winter Sabbath morn, When the persecuted left their caves, The eagle o'er their sanctuary Majestically soar'd, And scream'd discordant, while the crowd Most rev'rently adored. The chilling wind moan'd fitfully And from that lonely rugged spot The incense of the contrite heart The sacrifice of prayer. And angels from the heights of heaven Did look complacent down On the honour'd heads that soon should wear The martyr's glorious crown. And grey-hair'd sires forgot their griefs, And all their wrongs forgave, When they heard of Him whose power burst The barriers of the grave. And widows, poor and desolate, And homeless orphans, pray'd For pardon from the throne on high On their oppressor's head. And matrons, haggard, pale, and wan, With babes upon the breast, Expell'd from husband, hearth, and home, Gaunt, destitute, oppress'd, Exulted in their sufferings, Nay, smiled at torture—death, And gazed on the Sun of Righteousness And woe-worn groups, in manhood's prime, Whose tatter'd garments, matted hair, Attuned their voices solemnly To a high and holy theme; And the strains of Zion blended with The ruthless conqueror may climb Unfading wreaths, celestial palms, And crowns are their reward, Who brave the tyrant, when the sword GOD'S HUSBANDRY. Flabell. THOU art the Husbandman, and I Then did the sunshine of thy face, And hopeful buds on all were seen. Can much more easily restore My state to what it was before; Would make it perfect, sound, and whole. THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST. Campbell. WHEN Jordan hush'd his waters still, And silence slept on Zion hill; When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night Watch'd o'er their flocks by starry light: Hark! from the midnight hills around, A voice of more than mortal sound, Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul. Then, swift to every startled eye New streams of glory light the sky; On wheels of light, on wings of flame, High heaven with songs of triumph rung, "O Zion! lift thy raptured eye, The long-expected hour is nigh; The joys of Nature rise again, The Prince of Salem comes to reign. See, Mercy from her golden urn Pours a rich stream to them that mourn; The bleeding bosom of despair! |