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Ye fearless in your nests abide-
Nor may we scorn, too proudly wise,
Your silent lessons, undescried
By all but lowly eyes;

For ye could draw th' admiring gaze
Of Him who worlds and hearts surveys:
Your order wild, your fragrant maze,
He taught us how to prize.

Ye felt your Maker's smile that hour,
As when he paused and own'd you good;
His blessing on earth's primal bower,
Ye felt it all renew'd.

What care ye now, if winter's storm
Sweep ruthless o'er each silken form?
Christ's blessing at your heart is warm,
Ye fear no vexing mood

Alas! of thousand bosoms kind,
That daily court you and caress,
How few the happy secret find
Of your calm loveliness.

"Live for to-day! to morrow's light
To-morrow's cares shall bring to sight.
Go, sleep like closing flowers at night,
And heaven thy morn will bless."

ROBERT MONTGOMERY.

THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY. LORD of all being! where can fancy fly, To what far realms, unmeasur'd by thine eye? Where can we hide beneath thy blazing sun, Where dwell'st thou not, the boundless, viewless, One? Shall guilt couch down within the cavern's gloom, And quiv'ring, groaning, meditate her doom?

149

THE OMNIPRESENCE OF THE DEITY.

Or scale the mountains, where the whirlwinds rest,
And in the night-blast cool her fiery breast?
Within the cavern-gloom thine eye can see,
The sky-clad mountains lift their heads to thee!
Thy Spirit rides upon the thunder-storms,
Dark'ning the skies into terrific forms!

Beams in the light'ning, rocks upon the seas,
Roars in the blast, and whispers in the breeze;
In calm and storm, in heaven and earth thou art,
Trace but thy works--they bring thee to the heart!
The fulness of thy presence who can see,
Man cannot live, great God! and look on thee;
Around thy form eternal lightnings glow,--
Thy voice appals the shudd'ring world below.

Oh! Egypt felt thee when, by signs unscar'd,
To mock thy might the rebel monarch dared;
Thou look'st-and ocean sever'd at the glance!
Undaunted, still the charioteers advance;

Thou look'st again--she clash'd her howling waves,
And roar'd in stormy triumph o'er their graves!
On Sinai's mountain, when thy glory came
In rolls of thunder, and in clouds of flame;
There, while volcanic smoke thy throne o'ercast,
And the mount shrunk beneath the trumpet blast,
How did thy presence smite all Israel's eye!
How dreadful were the gleams of Deity!
There is a voiceless eloquence in earth,
Telling of Him who gave her wonders birth;
And long may I remain the adoring child
Of nature's majesty, sublime or wild ;
Hill, flood, and forest, mountain, rock, and sea,
All take their terrors and their charms from thee;
From thee, whose hidden but supreme control,
Moves through the world, a universal soul.
But who could trace thine unrestricted course,
Though fancy follow'd with immortal force!

There's not a blossom fondled by the breeze,
There's not a fruit that beautifies the trees,
There's not a particle in sea or air,

But nature owns thy plastic influence there!
With fearful gaze, still be it mine to see
How all is fill'd and verified by thee;
Upon thy mirror, earth's majestic view,
To paint thy presence, and to feel it too.

GEORGE CROLY.

JACOB'S DREAM.

THE sun was sinking on the mountain zone That guards thy vales of beauty, Palestine! And lovely from the desert rose the moon, Yet lingering on the horizon's purple line, Like a pure spirit o'er its earthly shrine. Up Padan-aram's height abrupt and bare A pilgrim toil'd, and oft on day's decline Look'd pale, then paused for eve's delicious air, The summit gain'd, he knelt, and breathed his evening prayer.

He spread his cloak and slumber'd-darkness fell
Upon the twilight hills; a sudden sound
Of silver trumpets o'er him seem'd to swell;
Clouds heavy with the tempest gather'd round;
Yet was the whirlwind in its caverns bound;
Still deeper roll'd the darkness from on high,
Gigantic volume upon volume wound,

Above, a pillar shooting to the sky,

Below, a mighty sea, that spread incessantly.

MAGDALENE'S HYMN.

151

Voices are heard--a choir of golden strings, Low winds, whose breath is loaded with the rose; Then chariot-wheels-the nearer rush of wings; Pale lightning round the dark pavilion glows, It thunders-the resplendent gates unclose; Far as the eye can glance, on height o'er height, Rise fiery waving wings, and star-crown'd brows, Millions on millions, brighter and more bright, Till all is lost in one supreme, unmingled light.

But, two beside the sleeping pilgrim stand, Like cherub-kings, with lifted, mighty plume, Fix'd, sun-bright eyes, and looks of high command: They tell the patriarch of his glorious doom; Father of countless myriads that shall come, Sweeping the land like billows of the sea, Bright as the stars of heaven from twilight's gloom, Till He is given whom angels long to see, And Israel's splendid line is crown'd with Deity.

JOHN WILSON.

BORN, 1788.

MAGDALENE'S HYMN.

66

FROM THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE."

THE air of death breathes through our souls,
The dead all round us lie;

By day and night the death-bell tolls,
And says, "Prepare to die.”

The face that in the morning sun
We thought so wondrous fair,
Hath faded, ere his course was run,
Beneath its golden hair.

I see the old man in his grave
With thin locks silvery-gray;
I see the child's bright tresses wave
In the cold breath of the clay.

The loving ones we loved the best,
Like music all are gone!

And the wan moonlight bathes in rest
Their monumental stone.

But not when the death-prayer is said,
The life of life departs;
The body in the grave is laid,
Its beauty in our hearts.

At holy midnight voices sweet
Like fragrance fill the room,
And happy ghosts with noiseless feet
Come bright'ning from the tomb.

We know who sends the visions bright,
From whose dear side they came!
-We veil our eyes before thy light,
We bless our Saviour's name.

This frame of dust, this feeble breath,
The plague may soon destroy;
We think on Thee, and feel in death
A deep and awful joy.

Dim is the light of vanish'd years

In the glory yet to come;
O idle grief! O foolish tears!
When Jesus calls us home.

Like children for some bauble fair
That weep themselves to rest;
We part with life-awake! and there
The jewel in our breast:

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