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Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God !
An ebon mass. Methinks thon piercest it, God ! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome
As with a wedge! But when I look again,

voice ! It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like Thy habitation from eternity!

sounds ! 0 dread and silent Mount ! I gazed upon thee, And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! Didst vanish from my thought. Entranced in Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost ! prayer

Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest ! I worshipped the Invisible alone.

Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storin !

Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! So sweet we know not we are listening to it, Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise ! Thou, the mean while, wast blending with my thought,

Thou, too, hoar Mount ! with thy sky-pointing Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy,

peaks, Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused,

Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, Into the mighty vision passing, there,

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven !

serene,

Into the depth of clouds that veil thy breast, Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise Thou too again, stupendous Mountain ! thou Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears, That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake, In adoration, upward from thy base Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake! Slow travelling with dim eyes suffused with tears, Green rales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn.

Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud,

To rise before me, — Rise, O, ever rise ! Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale ! Rise like a cloud of incense, from the Earth! O, struggling with the darkness all the night, Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, And visited all night by troops of stars,

Thou dread ambassador from Earth to Heaven, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink, Great Hierarch! tell thou the silent sky, Companion of the morning-star at dawn, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn

Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God. Co-herald, — wake, 0, wake, and utter praise ! Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light ? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams ?

THOU ART, O GODAnd you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad ! " The day is thine, the night also is thine : thou hast prepared Who called you forth from night and utter death, the light and the sun.

thou hast made summer and winter." - PSALM lxxiv. 16, 17. From dark and icy caverns called you forth, Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,

Thou art, O God, the life and light Forerer shattered and the same forever?

Of all this wondrous world we see; Who gave you your invulnerable life,

Its glow by day, its smile by night, Your strength, your speed, yourfury, and yourjoy, Are but reflections caught from thee. Inceasing thunder and eternal foam ?

Where'er we turn thy glories shine, And who commanded (and the silence came), And all things fair and bright are thine ! Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest ?

When day, with farewell beam, delays

Among the opening clouds of even, Ye ice-falls ! ye that from the mountain's brow

And we can almost think we gaze Adown enormous ravines slope amain,

Through golden vistas into heaven, Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,

Those hues that make the sun's decline And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge !

So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are thine.
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!
Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven When night, with wings of starry gloom,
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
flowers

Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes,
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ? That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
God !- let the torrents, like a shout of nations, So grand, so countless, Lord ! are thine.

SAALUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

Thou hast set all the borders of the carth:

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THROUGH LIFE'S VAPORS DIMLY

SEEING.

Through life's vapors dimly seeing,

Who but longs for light to break! Othe feverish dream of being !

When, 0, when shall we awake? O the hour when this material

Shall have vanished as a cloud, When amid the wide ethereal

All the invisible shall crowd,

The rolling sun, the changing light,

And nights and days thy power confess ; But the blest volume thou hast writ

Reveals thy justice and thy grace. Sun, moon, and stars convey thy praise

Round the whole earth, and never stand ; So when thy truth began its race

It touched and glanced on every land. Nor shall thy spreading gospel rest

Till through the world thy truth has run ; Till Christ has all the nations blest

That see the light or feel the sun. Great Sun of Righteousness, arise !

Bless the dark world with heavenly light ! Thy gospel makes the simple wise,

Thy laws are pure, thy judgments right. Thy noblest wonders here we view,

In souls renewed and sins forgiven ; Lord, cleanse my sins, my soul renew,

And make thy word my guide to heaven !

And the naked soul, surrounded

With realities unknown,
Triumph in the view unbounded,

Feel herself with God alone !
In that sudden, strange transition,

By what new and finer sense
Shall she grasp the mighty vision,

And receive its influence ? Angels, guard the new immortal,

Through the wonder-teeming space,
To the everlasting portal,

To the spirit's resting-place.
Till the trump, which shakes creation,

Through the circling heavens shall roll, Till the day of consummation,

Till the bridal of the soul.

ISAAC WATTS.

GOD MOVES IN A MYSTERIOUS WAY.

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform ;
He plants his footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill He treasures up his bright designs,

And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take!

The clouds ye so much dread Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head,

Jesus, blessed Mediator !

Thou the airy path hast trod ; Thou the Judge, the Consummator !

Shepherd of the fold of God ! Can I trust a fellow-being ?

Can I trust an angel's care ? O thou merciful All-seeing !

Beam around my spirit there.

Blessed fold ! no foe can enter;

And no friend departeth thence ; Jesus is their sun, their centre,

And their shield Omnipotence.

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SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea ! I STAND ON ZION'S MOUNT.
Jehovah has triumphed, - his people are free !
Sing, — for the pride of the tyrant is broken,

I STAND on Zion's mount,
His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and

And view my starry crown; brave,

No power on earth my hope can shake, How vain was their boasting ! the Lord hath but

Nor hell can thrust me down. spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.

The lofty hills and towers, Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea !

That lift their heads on high, Jehovah has triumphed, - his people are free !

Shall all be levelled low in dust,

Their very names shall die.
Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord !
His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword.

The vaulted heavens shall fall,
Who shall return to tell Egypt the story

Built by Jehovah's hands; Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride ?

But firmer than the heavens the Rock For the Lord hath looked out from his pillar of

Of my salvation stands. glory, And all her brave thousands are dashed in the

tide. Sound the load timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea !

THE LORD MY PASTURE SHALL PREJehovah has triumphed, - his people are free !

PARE.

CHARLES SWAIN

THOMAS MOORE.

PSALM XXIII.

CHILDREN OF GOD, WHO, FAINT AND

SLOW

TAE Lord my pasture shall prepare,
And feed me with a shepherd's care ;
His presence shall my wants supply,
And guard me with a watchful eye ;
My noonday walks he shall attend,
And all my midnight hours defend.

CHILDREN of God, who, faint and slow,

Your pilgrim-path pursue,
In strength and weakness, joy and woe,

To God's high calling true !

Why move ye thus, with lingering tread,

A doubting, mournful band ?
Why faintly hangs the drooping head ?

Why fails the feeble hand?

When in the sultry glebe I faint,
Or on the thirsty mountains pant,
To fertile vales and dewy meads,
My weary, wandering steps he leads,
Where peaceful rivers soft and slow
Amid the verdant landscape flow.

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O, how the thought of God attracts

And draws the heart from carth, And sickens it of passing shows

And dissipating mirth!
God only is the creature's home,

Though long and rough the road; Yet nothing less can satisfy

The love that longs for God.

O, utter but the name of God

Down in your heart of hearts, And see how from the world at once

All tempting light departs.

AMAZING, beauteous change!
A world created new!
My thoughts with transport range,
The lovely scene to view ;

In all I trace,
Saviour divine,
The work is thine, -

Be thine the praise !
See crystal fountains play
Amidst the burning sands ;
The river's winding way
Shines through the thirsty lands;

Néw grass is seen,
And o'er the meads
Its carpet spreads

Of living green.
Where pointed brambles grew,
Intwined with horrid thorn,
Gay flowers, forever new,
The painted fields adorn, - •

The blushing rose
And lily there,
In union fair

Their sweets disclose.
Where the bleak mountain stood
All bare and disarrayed,
See the wide-branching wood
Diffuse its grateful shade ;

Tall cedars nod,
And oaks and pines,
And elms and vines
Confess the God.

A trusting heart, a yearning cye,

Can win their way above ; If mountains can be moved by faith,

Is there less power in love ?

How little of that road, my soul,

How little hast thou gone ! Take heart, and let the thought of God

Allure thee farther on.

Dole not thy duties out to God,

But let thy hand be free; Look long at Jesus ; his sweet blood,

How was it dealt to thee?

The perfect way is hard to flesh;

It is not hard to love ;
If thou wert sick for want of God

How swiftly wouldst thou move!

FABER.

The tyrants of the plain
Their savage chase give o'er, -
No more they rend the slain,
And thirst for blood no more ;

But infant hands
Fierce tigers stroke,

BEFORE JEHOVAH'S AWFUL THRONE.

BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne,

Ye nations, bow with sacred joy ;
Know that the Lord is God alone;

He can create, and he destroy.

THE SABBATH.

His sovereign power, without our aid,

Made us of clay, and formed us men; And when, like wandering sheep, we strayed,

He brought us to his fold again.

We are his people ; we his care,

Our souls, and all our mortal frame; What lasting honors shall we rear,

Almighty Maker, to thy name?

How still the morning of the hallowed day!
Mute is the voice of rural labor, hushed
The plough-boy's whistle and the milkmaid's

song
The scythe lies glittering in the dewy wreath
Of tedded grass, mingled with fading flowers,
That yestermorn bloomed waving in the breere ;
Sounds the most faint attract the ear, – the

hum Of early bee, the trickling of the dew, The distant bleating, midway up the hill. Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud. To him who wanders o'er the upland leas The blackbird's note comes mellower from the

We'll crowd thy gates with thankful songs ;

High as the heaven our voices raise ; And Earth, with her ten thousand tongues,

Shall fill thy courts with sounding praise. Wide as the world is thy comm

omand; Vast as eternity thy love ; Firm as a rock thy truth shall stand

When rolling years shall cease to move.

dale;

ISAAC WATTS.

AND LET THIS FEEBLE BODY DIE.

AND let this feeble body fail,

And let it faint or die ; My soul shall quit this mournful vale,

And soar to worlds on high ; Shall join the disembodied saints,

And find its long-songht rest, That only bliss for which it pants,

In the Redeemer's breast.

And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark Warbles his heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook Murmurs more gently down the deep-worn glen ; While from yon lowly roof, whose circling

smoke O'ermounts the mist, is heard at intervals The voice of psalms, the simple song of praise. With dovelike wings Peace o'er yon village

broods ; The dizzying mill-wheel rests; the anvil's din Hath ceased ; all, all around is quietness. Less fearful on this day, the limping hare Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on

man, Her deadliest foe. The toilworn horse, set free, Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large ; And as his stiff, unwieldly bulk he rolls, His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray.

JAMES GRAHAME.

In hope of that immortal crown

I now the cross sustain ;
And gladly wander up and down,

And smile at toil and pain.
I suffer on my threescore years,

Till my Deliverer come,
And wipe away his servant's tears,

And take his exile home.

THE MEETING.

0, what hath Jesus bought for me?

Before my ravished eye,
Rivers of life divine I see,

And trees of Paradise !
I see a world of spirits bright,

Who taste the pleasures there ! They all are robed in spotless white,

And conquering palms they bear. O, what are all my sufferings here,

If, Lord, thou count me meet With that enraptured host to appear,

And worship at thy feet !
Give joy or grief, give ease or pain ;

Take life or friends away,
But let me find them all again

In that eternal day..

The elder 'folk shook hands at last,
Down seat by seat the signal passed.
To simple ways like ours unused,
Half solemnized and half amused,
With long-drawn breath and shrug, my guest
His sense of glad relief expressed.
Outside the hills lay warm in sun;
The cattle in the meadow-run
Stood half-leg deep ; a single bird
The green repose above us stirred.
“What part or lot have you,” he said,
“In these dull rites of drowsy-head ?
Is silence worship? Seek it where
It soothes with dreains the summer air,
Not in this close and rude-benched hall,
But where soft lights and shadows fall,
And all the slow, sleep-walking hours
Glide soundless over grass and flowers !

CHARLES WESLEY.

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