For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest; The prelate for his holy life he prized; These marks of church and churchmen he design'd, And living taught, and dying left behind. Such was the saint, that shone with every grace, Reflecting, Moses-like, his Maker's face. God saw his image lively was express'd, ON THE SABBATH. How sweet, upon this sacred day, To cast our earthly thoughts away, How sweet to be allow'd to pray "Father! who art in heaven!" With humble hope to bend the knee, How sweet the words of peace to hear To wake the penitential tear, And if to make all sin depart When from the bosom that was dear, The heart that knows no refuge here, And when from all of bliss below Shall raise it up to heaven. Then hail, thou sacred, blessed day, The best of all the seven! When hearts unite their vows to pay THE WIDOW. SHE said she was alone within the world: How could she but be sad! She whisper'd something of a lad, With eyes of blue, and light hair sweetly curl'd; But the grave had the child! And yet his voice she heard, When at the lattice, calm and mild, The mother in the twilight saw the vine-leaves stirr❜d. Mother," "it seem'd to say, "I love thee; When thou dost by the side of thy lone pillow pray, My spirit writes the words above thee; Mother, I watch o'er thee-I love thee." Where was the husband of that widow'd thing, That seraph's earthly sire ?- A soldier dares a soldier's fire; The murderous ball brought death upon its wing, Beneath a foreign sky,— He fell in sunny Spain; The wife, in silence, saw him die, But the fond boy's blue eyes gave drops like summer We are close by thee, father—at thy bleeding side— Dost thou not hear thy Arthur crying?— Mother, his lips are closed--he's dying!” It was a stormy time when the man fell; 66 Consumption's worm his pulse entwined— To soothe a parent's grief : Sad soul! she could not be beguiled: She saw the bud would leave the guardian leaf! 'Mother," he faintly said, "Come near me Kiss me and let me in my father's grave be laid— HINDOO HYMN. TO THE SPIRIT OF GOD, CALLED NARAVENA, i. e. MOV SPIRIT of spirits! who, through every part Ere spheres beneath us roll'd, or spheres above, Thou sat'st alone; till through thy mystic love Things unexisting to existence sprung, : And grateful descant sung: What first impell'd thee to exert thy might? Thy power directed? Wisdom without bound. My soul, in rapture drown'd; That fearless it may soar on wings of fire, For thou who only know'st, thou only canst inspire. Omniscient Spirit! whose all-ruling power Bids from each sense bright emanations beam; Sighs in the gale; and warbles in the throat Whilst envious artists touch the rival string, Breathes in rich fragrance from the sandal grove, In dulcet juice from clustering fruit distils, Thy present influence fills; In air, in floods, in caverns, woods and plains, Thy will enlivens all; thy sovereign spirit reigns. Blue crystal vault and elemental fires That in ethereal fluid blaze and breathe; Thou tossing main, whose snaky branches wreathe This pensile globe with intertwisted gyres; Mountains, whose radiant spires Presumptuous rear their summits to the skies, |