Though in the paths of death I tread,
With gloomy horrors overspread,
My steadfast heart shall fear no ill,
For thou, O Lord! art with me still;
Thy friendly crook shall give me aid,
And guide me through the dreadful shade.

Though, in a bare and rugged way,
Through devious, lonely wilds I stray,
Thy bounty shall my pains beguile,
The barren wilderness shall smile,
With sudden greens and herbage crown'd,
And streams shall murmur all around.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

WHEN, marshall'd on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky,
One Star alone of all the train

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Savior speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark, The ocean yawn'd, and rudely blow'd

The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem ;-

When suddenly a star arose,

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all,
It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm, and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moor'd-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
Forever and forevermore,

The Star!-the Star of Bethlehem!

THE POWER OF GOD.

THE Lord our God is full of might,
The winds obey his will;
He speaks, and in his heavenly height
The rolling sun stands still.

Rebel, ye waves, and o'er the land

With threatening aspect roar;
The Lord uplifts his awful hand,
And chains you to the shore.

Howl, winds of night, your force combine;
Without his high behest,
Ye shall not in the mountain-pine

Disturb the sparrow's nest.

His voice sublime is heard afar,

In distant peals it dies;

He yokes the whirlwinds to his car,
And sweeps the howling skies.

Ye nations, bend, in reverence bend,
Ye monarchs, wait his nod,
And bid the choral song ascend

To celebrate the God!

ODE TO DISAPPOINTMENT.

COME, Disappointment, come!

Not in thy terrors clad;

Come in thy meekest, saddest guise ;

Thy chastening rod but terrifies

The restless and the bad.

But I recline

Beneath thy shrine,

And round my brow resign'd thy peaceful cypress

twine.

Though Fancy flies away

Before thy hollow tread,

Yet Meditation, in her cell,

Hears, with faint eye, the lingering knell,

That tells her hopes are dead ·

And though the tear

By chance appear,

Yet she can smile, and say, "My all was not laid here."

Come, Disappointment, come!

Though from Hope's summit hurl'd,

Still, rigid Nurse, thou art forgiven,

For thou severe wert sent from heaven

To wean me from the world:

To turn my eye

From vanity,

And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die.

What is this passing scene?

A peevish April day!

A little sun-a little rain,

And then night sweeps along the plain,

And all things fade away

Man (soon discuss'd)

Yields up his trust,

And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.

O, what is Beauty's power?

It flourishes and dies;

Will the cold earth its silence break,

To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek

Beneath its surface lies?

Mute, mute is all

O'er Beauty's fall;

Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall.

The most beloved on earth

Not long survives to-day;

So music past is obsolete,

And yet 't was sweet, 't was passing sweet,

But now 't is gone away.

Thus does the shade

In memory fade,

When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid.

Then since this world is vain,
And volatile, and fleet,

Why should I lay up earthly joys,

Where rust corrupts, and moth destroys,

And cares and sorrows eat?

Why fly from ill

With anxious skill,

When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still?

Come, Disappointment, come!
Thou art not stern to me;
Sad monitress! I own thy sway,
A votary sad in early day,

To thee I bend my knee :
From sun to sun

My race will run,

I only bow, and say, "My God, thy will be done!"

ON HEARING THE CLOCK STRIKE TWELVE AT NIGHT, DECEMBER 31st.

KNELL of departed years,

Thy voice is sweet to me:
It wakes no sad foreboding fears,
Calls forth no sympathetic tears,

Time's restless course to see;
From hallow'd ground

I hear the sound

Diffusing through the air a holy calm around.