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Now let the voice due measure keep, In strains that sigh, and words that weep; Till all the vocal current blended roll, Not to depress, but lift, the soaring soul: To lift it in the Maker's praise,
Who first informed our frame with breath;
Now, gracious, gives us o'er to death.
In him appears
Who shuts the scene of human woes.
The dead alone find true repose.
Then while we mingle dust with dust,
Fair spring at last
Receives him on her flow'ry shore !
Where pleasure's rose
And sin and sorrow are no more!
Or all my race there breathes not one,
I feel, ere life has pass'd away,-
Night spreads her mantle o'er the sky,
My restless couch am steeping.
Curs'd be that day,-in tempest wild,--
I might have fled from sorrow;
The light wave sparkling in the beam,
I rais'd the drooping wretch that pin'd,—
In lonely anguish lying;
Was balm unto the wounded mind,
And solace to the dying.
Till one stern stroke of all my state,
Ye, too, as life itself belov'd,
When all conspir'd to bless me,
I deem'd ye friends, but ye kave prov'd
I could have borne the slave's rude scorn,
Had one, but one,-remain'd to mourn
My children sleep in death's cold shade,
I had not then been doom'd to see
All hope on earth for ever fled,
A higher hope remaineth;
E'en while his wrath is o'er me shed,
My soul shall see eternal day,
And dwell with God for ever.
In a dream of the night I was wafted away
'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood, When the minister's home was the mountain and [Zion, When in Welwood's dark valley the standard of All bloody and torn 'mong the heather was lying; 'Twas morning;-and summer's young sun from the east [breast: Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's On woodland and cairn-table the clear shining dew Glistened sheen 'mong the heath bells and mountain flowers blue!
And far up in heaven near the white sunny cloud, The song of the lark was melodious and loud; And in Glenmore's wild solitudes, lengthen'd and
Was the whistling of plovers, and bleating of sheep; And Welwood's sweet valley breath'd music and [redness;
And its fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and
'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron Conceal'd 'mong the mist, where the heath fow
[hov'ring For the horsemen of Earlshall around them w
And the bridal reins rung through the thin misty [sheathed, Their faces grew pale, and their swords were unBut the vengeance that darken'd their brow was unbreathed;
With eyes rais'd to heaven in calm resignation, They sang their last song to the God of salvation : The hills with the deep mournful music were
The curlew and plover in concert were singing,—
[ing. They stood like the rock which the thunder is rendThe muskets were flashing, the blue swords were gleaming,
The helmets were cleft, and the red blood was streaming; [rolling The heavens grew dark and the thunder was, When in Welwood's dark muirlands the mighty [was ended
When the righteous had fallen, and the combat A chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; The drivers were angels, on horses of whiteness, And its burning wheels turn'd upon axles of brightness!
A seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining, All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining;[tion, And the souls that came forth out of great tribulaHave mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation; On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding,Through the paths of the thunder the horesmen are riding!