Thou that saidst, "Awake, arise!" Yet, oh! make him thine, all thine, A PRAYER OF AFFECTION. BLESSINGS, O Father, shower! Father of mercies! round his precious head! On his lone walks and on his thoughtful hour, And the pure visions of his midnight bed, Blessings be shed! Father! I pray Thee not For earthly treasure to that most beloved, Let such a sense of Thee, Thy watching presence, thy sustaining love, That wheresoe'er he move, May sit undinmed! a gladness rest his own, Faintly remembered, and too swiftly flown! So let him walk with Thee, Made by Thy spirit free; And when thou callest him from his mortal place FEMALE CHARACTERS OF SCRIPTURE. Your tents are desolate: your stately steps, The mind still keeps your loveliness, and still INVOCATION. As the tired voyager on stormy seas Invokes the coming of bright birds from shore, To waft him tidings with the gentler breeze, Of dim sweet woods that hear no billows roar; So from the depths of days, when earth yet wore Her solemn beauty and primeval dew, I call you gracious Forms! Oh! come, restore Life's morning dreams. Come with the voice, the lyre, Imperial in their visionary fire; Oh! steep my soul in that old glorious time, When God's own whisper shook the cedars of your clime! INVOCATION CONTINUED. And come, ye faithful! round Messiah seen, As in calm clouds of pearly stillness bright, Showers weave with sunshine, and transpierce their slight Ethereal cradle. From your heart subdued A haughty dreams of power had winged their flight, Ant left hign place for martyr fortitude, True faith, long suffering love. Come to me, come! THE SONG OF MIRIAM. A song for Israel's God! Spear, crest, and helm, With her lit eye, and long hair floating free, Of the dark waters tossing o'er the slain. RUTH. The plume-like swaying of the auburn corn, Fallen in its weariness. Thy father-land That finest, purest, which can recognise Home in affection's glance for ever true Beats thy calm heart; and if thy gentle eyes Gleam tremulous through tears, 'tis not to rue Those words, immortal in their deep love's tone, "Thy people and thy God shall be mine own!” THE VIGIL OF RIZPAH. "And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven; and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them, by day, nor the beasts of the field by night."-2 Sam. xxi. 10. WHO watches on the mountain with the dead, Once proudly graceful, heavy beats the rain: THE REPLY OF THE SHUNAMMITE WOMAN. "And she answered, I dwell among mine own people "–2 King" iv. 13. "I dwell among mine own."-Oh! happy thou' Not for the sunny clusters of the vine, Nor for the olives on the mountain's brow; Nor the flocks wondering by the flowery line Whose kindly whisper floats o'er thee and thine- Weaving from each some link for home's dear char THE ANNUNCIATION. Lowliest of women, and most glorified! In thy still beauty sitting calm and lone, A brightness round thee grew-and by thy side From her proud lyre nad struck a tempest's tone, For such high tidings as to thee were brought, Chosen of Heaven! that hour :-but thou, O thou! E'en as a flower with gracious rains o'erfraught Thy virgin head beneath its crown didst bow, And take to thy meek breast the all holy word, And own thyself the handmaid of the Lord. THE SONG OF THE VIRGIN. Yet as a sun-burst flushing mountain snow, Which living hearts the choirs of Heaven among THE PENITENT ANOINTING CHRIST'S FEET. There was a mournfulness in angel eyes, That saw thee, woman! bright in this world's train, Moving to pleasure's airy melodies, Thyself the idol of the enchanted strain. But from thy beauty's garland, brief and vain, When one by one the rose-leaves had been torn, When thy heart's core had quivered to the pain Through every life-nerve sent by arrowy scorn; When thou didst kneel to pour sweet odors forth On the Redeemer's feet with many a sigh, And showering tear-drop, of yet richer worth Than all those costly balms of Araby; Then was their joy, a song of joy in Heaven, For thee, the child won back, the penitent forgiven!* MARY AT THE FEET OF CHRIST. Oh! blest beyond all daughters of the earth! But a fresh childhood, heavenly truth to meet, Midst the world's eager tones and footsteps flying! Thou whose calm soul was like a well-spring lying So deep and still in its transparent rest, That e'en when noontide burns upon the hills, Some one bright solemn star all its lone mirror fills. THE SISTERS OF BETHANY AFTER THE DEATH OF LAZARUS. One grief, one faith, O sisters of the dead! Was in your bosoms-thou, whose steps, made fleet To those unveilings of its deepest shrine, THE MEMORIAL OF MARY. "Verily I say unto you, wheresoever this gospel shall be preach ed in the whole world, there shall also this, that this woman hab done, be told for a memorial of her."-Matthew xxvi. 13. See 86 John xii. 3. Thou hast thy record in the monarch's hall; Is borne thy memory, and all praise above; One lowly offering of exceeding love! THE WOMEN OF JERUSALEM AT THE CROSS. Like those pale stars of tempest hours, whose gleam O blessed faith! a guiding lamp, that hour, Is all of love and suffering from her birth; Still hath your act a voice-through fear, through strife Bidding her bind each tendril of her life, To that which her deep soul hath proved of holiest worth. MARY MAGDALENE AT THE SEPULCHRE. Weeper! to thee how bright a morn was given When that high voice which burial rocks had riven. Such tale of victory to a breathless crowd, MARY MAGDALENE BEARING TIDINGS OF THE RESURRECTION. Then was a task of glory all thine own, Nobler than e'er the still small voice assigned To lips in awful music making known The stormy splendors of some prophet's mind. "Christ is arisen!" by thee to wake mankind, First from the sepulchre those words were brought! Thou wert to send the mighty rushing wind First on its way, with those high tidings fraught— "Christ has arisen!" Thou, thou, the sin enthralled. Earth's outcast, Heaven's own ransomed one, wert cal ed In human hearts to give that rapture birth; Ob! raised from shame to brightness !-there doth lie The tenderest meaning of His ministry, Whose undespairing love still owned the spirit's worth HYMNS, DEVOTIONAL AND MEMORIAL, THE SACRED HARP. How shall the harp of poesy regain, That old victorious tone of prophet-years, A spell divine o'er guilt's perturbing fears, And all the hovering shadows of the brain? Dark evil wings took flight before the strain, A throne, the Ark's dread cherubim between, TO A FAMILY BIBLE. What household thoughts around thee, as their shrine Each day were bent :-her accents, gravely mild, REPOSE OF A HOLY FAMILY. From an old Italian Picture. Under a palm-tree, by the green old Nile, Brooding above the slumber of his eyes. Regal and still as everlasting things! Vain pomps! from Him, with that pure flowery cheek, Soft shadowed by his mother's drooping head, A new-born spirit, mighty, and yet meek, O'er the whole world like vernal air shall spread! And bid all earthly grandeurs cast the crown, Before the suffering and the lowly, down. PICTURE OF THE INFANT CHRIST WITH FLOWERS. All the bright hues from eastern garlands glowing, And thus it was! a diadem of thorn Earth gave to Him who mantled her with flowers, To Him who poured forth blessings in soft showers, C'er all her paths, a cup of bitter scorn! And we repine, for whom that cup He took Per blooms that mocked our hope, o'er idols that forsook! ON A REMEMBERED PICTURE OF CHRIST. Ict that image on a mirthful day Of youth, and sinking with stilled surprise, The pride of life before tho holy eyes, In my quick heart died thoughtfully away, Abashed to mute confessions of a sway, Awful, though meek; and now, that from the strings, Of my soul's lyre, the tempest's mighty wings, Have struck forth tones which then awakened lay; Now, that around the deep life of my mind, Affections, deathless as itself, have twined, Oft does the pale bright vision still float by; But more divinely sweet, and speaking now Of One whose pity, throned on that sad brow, Sounded all depths of love, grief, death, humanity! THE CHILDREN WHOM JESUZ BLEST. Happy were they, the mothers, in whose sight The conscious glory of the Savior's love! And shield its first bloom from unholy air; Owning, in each young suppliant glance, the sign Of claims upon a heritage divine. MOUNTAIN SANCTUARIES. "He went up to a mountain apart to pray." A child 'midst ancient mountains I have stood, Fell solemnly upon my infant breast, Though that I prayed not; but deep thoughts have pressed Into my being since it breathed that air, Nor could I now one moment live the guest Of such dread scenes, without the springs of prayer O'erflowing all my soul. No minsters rise Like them in pure communion with the skies, Vast, silent, open unto night and day; So might the o'erburdened Son of man have felt, When, turning where inviolate stillness dwelt, He sought high mountains, there apart to pray. "Consider the lilies of the fields." Flowers! when the Savior's calm benignant eye A voice He set, as in a temple-shrine, THE BIRDS OF THE AIR. "And behold the birds of the air.” Ye too, the free and fearless birds of air, And call us to your echoing woods away E'en than the first, within the awakened mind; While sweetly, joyously, they tell of life, That knows no doubts, no questionings, no strife, But hangs upon its God, unconsciously resigned. THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON. "And he that was dead sat up and began to speak." He that was dead rose up and spoke-He spoke! Was it of that majestic world unknown? Those words, which first the bier's dread silence broke, Came they with revelation in each tone? A CHURCH IN NORTH WALES. Were the far cities of the nations gone, The palm-the vine-the cedar-each hath power Far deeper spells than prophet-grove of old Might e'er enshrine:-I could not hear thee sigh To the wind's faintest whisper, nor behold One shiver of thy leaves' dim silvery green, Without high thoughts and solemn, of that scene When, in the garden, the Redeemer prayed When pale stars looked upon his fainting head, And angels, ministering in silent dread, Trembled, perchance, within thy trembling shade. THE DARKNESS OF THE CRUCIFIXION. On Judah's hills a weight of darkness hung, Wouldst make thy temple in each human breast, Chased thence by guilt!-Oh! turn not thou away, The bright and morning star, my guide to perfect day! PLACES OF WORSHIP. "God is a spirit." Spirit! whose life-sustaining presence fills With dearer consecration those pure fanes, Which, severed from all sound of earth's unrest, Hear naught but suppliant or adoring strains Rise heavenward. Ne'er may rock or cave possess Their claim on human hearts to solemn tenderness. OLD CHURCH IN AN ENGLISH PARK. Crowning a flowery slope, it stood alone Reigned there, the o'ershadowing spirits of the scene. Blessings be round it still! that gleaming fane, Filling the hollows with its anthem-tone, I bless thee, 'midst thy rocks, gray house of prayer! But for their sakes whe unto thee repair From the hill-cabins and the ocean-shore. Oh! may the fisher and the mountaineer, Words to sustain earth's toiling children bear, Within thy lowly walls for evermore ! LOUISE SCHEPLER. Louise Schepler was the faithful servant and friend of the pastor Oberlin. The last letter addressed by him to his children for Dell perusal after his decease, affectionately commemorates he onwearied zeal in visiting and instructing the children of the moun tain hamlets, through all seasons, and in all circumstances f difficulty and danger. A fearless journeyer o'er the mountain snow Wert thou, Louise! the sun's decaying light, Oft, with its latest melancholy glow, Reddened thy steep wild way; the starry night Oft met thee, crossing some lone eagle's height, Piercing some dark ravine: and many a dell Knew, through its ancient rock-recesses, well, Thy gentle presence, which hath made them bright Oft in mid-storin; oh! not with beauty's eye, Nor the proud glance of genius keenly burning; No! pilgrim of unwearying charity! Thy spell was love-the mountain deserts turning To blessed realms, where stream and rock rejoice, TO THE SAME. For thou, a holy shepherdess and kind, Upon the mountains are the feet of those For this were all thy journeyings, and the close LINES TO A BUTTERFLY RESTING ON A SCULL CREATURE of air and light! Emblem of that which will not fade or die! Wilt thou not speed thy flight, To chase the south wind through the glowing sky? Fixed on the wreck of cold mortality? The thoughts, once chambered there, Have gathered up their treasures, and are gone;— Will the dust tell thee where That which hath burst the prison-house is flown? If thou wouldst trace its way— Who seeks the vanished bird, Near the deserted nest and broken shell ? He sings, rejoicing in the woods to dwell; CHURCH MUSIC. "All the train Sang Hallelujah as the sound of seas."-Milton. AGAIN! oh, send those anthem notes again! ing them once more!-they waft my soul away, High where no shadow of the past is thrown; To earthly passion through the exulting lay, Breathes mournfully one haunting under tone. All is of Heaven !-yet wherefore to mine eye, Gush the quick tears unbidden from their source, en while the waves of that strong harmony, Sweep with my spirit on their sounding course? Wherefore must rapture its full tide reveal, Thus by the signs betokening sorrow's power? --Oh! is it not that humbly we may feel Our nature's limits in its proudest hour! THOUGHTS FROM AN ITALIAN POET. WHERE shall I find, in all this fleeting earth, This world of changes, and farewells, a friend Chat will not fail me in his love and worth, Tender, and firm, and faithful to the end? Far hath my spirit sought a place of restLong on vain idols its devotion shed; Some have forsaken whom I loved the best, And some deceived, and some are with the dead. But thou, my Savior! thou, my hope and trust, Faithful art thou when friends and joys depart, Teach me to lift these yearnings from the dust, And fix on thee, the Unchanging One, my heart. A FATHER READING THE BIBLE. For there, serene in happy age, A father communed with the page Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright, And touched the page with tenderest light, But oh! that patriarch's aspect shone A radiance all the spirit's own, Caught not from sun or star. Some word of life e'en then had met Some ancient promise, breathing yet Of Immortality: Some martyr's prayer, wherein the glow Of quenchless faith survives: For every feature said "I know That my Redeemer lives!" And silent stood his children by, Of thoughts 'ersweeping death. HYMN BY THE SICK-BED OF A MOTHER. FATHER! that in the olive shade When the dark hour came on, Didst, with a breath of heavenly aid, Strengthen thy Son; Oh! by the anguish of that night, And Thou, that when the starry sky "Thy will be done!" By thy meek spirit, Thou, of all A DIRGE. CALM on the bosom of thy God, Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers, But oh a brighter home than ours, THE PENITENT'S OFFERING. THOU that with pallid cheek, And eyes in sadness meek, And faded locks that humbly swept the ground, From their long wanderings won, Before the all-healing Son, Didst bow thee to the earth, oh, lost and found! When thou wouldst bathe his feet, And many a shower of woman's burning tear, From the crowded beauty of its festal year. Did he reject thee then, While the sharp scorn of men On thy once bright and stately head was cast? No, from the Savior's mien, A solemn light serene, Bore to thy soul the peace of God at last. For thee, their smiles no more Voices, once kind, had learned the stranger's tone, Thy silent spirit's wound? He, from all guilt the stainless, He alone! But which, oh, erring child! Which of thine offerings won those words of Heaven Condemned of earth to bleed, In music passed, “Thy sins are all forgiven ?” Was it that perfume fraught From the sweet woods of Araby the blest? Of tears, which not in vain To Him who scorned not tears, thy woes confessed! No, not by these restored Thy peace, that kindled joy in heaven, was made; By that blest sacrifice, Thy heart, thy full deep heart, before him 'aid. |