Why does the will of Heaven ordain

A world so mix'd with woe?
Why pour down want, disease, and pain

On wretched men below?
It was the Will of God to leave

Those ills for man to mend;
Nor let Affliction pass the grave,

Before it found a friend.
It was by sympathetic ties

The human race to bind;
To warm the heart and fill the eyes,

With pity for our kind.
Pity that, like the heavenly bow,

On darkest cloud doth shine;
And makes, with her celestial glow,

The human face-divine.
Where Mercy takes her custom'd stand

To bid her flock rejoice; 'Tis there, with Grace extends the hand,

There Music tunes the voice.
And He, who speaks in Mercy's name,

No fiction needs, nor art;
The still small voice of Nature's claim

Reechoes through each heart.
Where Pity's frequent tear is shed,

There God is seen—is found ; Descends upon the hallow'd head,

And sheds a glory round.

But Charity itself may fail,

Which doth not active prove, Nor will the prayer of Faith avail

Without the works of Love.

0, SWEETER than the fragrant flower

At Evening's dewy close,
The Will united with the Power

To succour human woes!
And softer than the softest strain

Of Music to the ear,
That placid joy we give and gain

By Gratitude sincere !
The husbandman goes forth afield;

What hopes his heart expand;
What calm delight his labours yield,

A harvest—from his hand.
A hand that providently throws,

Nor dissipates in vain :
How neat his field! how clean it grows!

What produce from each grain !
The nobler husbandry of mind,

The culture of the heart, .
Shall this, with man, less favour find ?

Less genuine joy impart?
O no—your goodness strikes a root

That dies not nor decays,
And future life shall yield the fruit

That blossoms now in praise.

The youthful hopes, that here expand

Their green and tender leaves,
Shall spread a plenty o'er the land

In rich and yellow sheaves.
Thus, a small bounty well bestow'd,

May perfect Heaven's high plan;
First Daughter to the Love of God,

Is Charity to Man.
'Tis He who scatters blessings round,

Adores his Maker best:
For Him whose life was mercy-crown'd,

The bed of Death is bless'd.

HYMN IV.
In this fair globe with ocean bound,
And with the starry concave crown'd,
In earth below, in heaven above,
How clear reveals that God is Love !

I seem to hear the Angelic voice
Which bless'd the work, and bade, rejoice!
It vibrates still through every part,
And echoes through my grateful heart.

In God all creatures live and move, Motes in the sunbeam of his love, Vast Nature quickens in his sight, Existence feels and new delight.

Through glad creation's ample range
Rolls on the wheel of ceaseless change:
The Phoenix renovates his breath,
Nor dreads destruction e'en in death.

From ashes of this world, sublime,
Beyond the reach of thought or time,
On wings of Faith and Hope he soars,
And Truth in Love eternally adores.

DR. DRENNAN.

HYMN. GLORIOUS Author of the year,

Teach us at thy shrine to bow!
As thy varying months appear,

Let our lips renew the vow.
When the dove-eyed Spring looks out

From her infant nest of flowers,
On the green fresh woods about,

Sparkling in the sunny showers-When, as up the blue profound,

Summer climbs her noonday height, Not the breathing of a sound

Wanders through the depth of lightWhen, o'er harvest-waving hill,

And on gaily blossom'd heath, Autumn glows—or, beauteous still,

Wears the golden veil of deathWhen, like some unspotted corse,

Shrouded in its virgin white, Nature yields to Winter's force,

Only to revive more brightGlorious Author of the year,

Teach us at thy shrine to bow! As thy varying months appear, Let our lips renew the vow.

REV, F. HODGSON.

HYMN*
In Sleep's serene oblivion laid,

I safely pass'd the silent night; '
At once I see the breaking shade,

And drink again the morning light.
New born—I bless the waking hour,

Once more, with awe, rejoice to be;
My conscious soul resumes her power,

And springs, my gracious God, to thee.
0, guide me through the various maze,

My doubtful feet are doom'd to tread;
And spread thy shield's protecting blaze,

When dangers press around my head.
A deeper shade will soon impend,

A deeper sleep my eyes oppress;
Yet still thy strength shall me defend,

Thy goodness still shall deign to bless.
That deeper shade shall fade away,

That deeper sleep shall leave my eyes ;
Thy light shall give eternal day!
Thy love the rapture of the skies!

DR. HAWKESWORTH.

THE WORLD ILLUSIVE.
The world' is all a fleeting show,

For man's illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,

There's nothing true but Heaven! * Composed in the night, about a month before the death of the author.

VOL. I.