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DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed, And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
Let those their thankful voices raise,
Before his altar kneel;
The dictates of his will.
Ye spirits of the just and good,
To heav'nly mansions soar! Oh! let your songs his praise display, "Till heav'n itself shall melt away,
And time shall be no more.
Praise him, ye meek and humble train, Ye saints, whom his decrees ordain
The boundless bliss to share: Oh! praise him, till you take your way To regions of eternal day,
And reign for ever there.
Let us, who now impassive stand,
Amid the fiery blaze,
In hymns of endless praise.
Should the vine put forth no more,
A HYMN TO THE SUPREME BEING.
[THOmson.] These, as they change, Almighty Father! these, A re but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Forth in the pleasing Spring Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love Wide Aush the fields; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles; And every sense,
heart is joy. Then comes thy glory in the Summer-months, With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ; And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful Thou! with clouds and storms
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll’d,
Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine
Nature, attend ! join every living soul, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, In adoration join; and, ardent, raise One general song ! to him, ye vocal gales, Breathe soft; whose spirit in your freshness breathes : Oh talk of him in solitary glooms ! Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely waving pine Fills the brown shade with a religious awe. And ye whose bolder note is heard afar, Who shake th' astonished world, lift high to heaven Th’impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Soft-roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flow'rs,
Ye woodlands all, awake: a boundless song Bursts from the groves! and when the restless day, Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep, Sweetest of birds ! sweet Philomela charm The listening shades, and teach the night His praise. Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles, At once the head, the heart, and tongue of all, Crown the great hymn! in swarming cities vast, Assembled men, to the deep organ join The long resounding voice, oft-breaking clear, At solemn pauses, through the swelling bass; And, as each mingling fame increases each, In one united ardour rise to heaven.