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And each still lake and mountain lone
Then, musing in the woodland nook,
What though in our pride's selfish mood We hold those times as dark and rude, Yet give we, from our wealth of mind, More grateful feeling, or refined ? And yield we unto Nature aught Of loftier, or of holier thought, Than they who gave sublimest power To the small spring, and simple flower ?
By Mrs. SIGOURNEY.
Light for the dreary vales
Of ice-bound Labrador!
And the mariner wakes no more;
To that dark and sterile shore.
An outcast though he be,
And the country of the free;
For what home on earth has he?
Light for that trampled clime
Ere it wreck'd the boast of time;
Can ye grudge your boon sublime ?
On the maddening idol-train,
And the fakir faints with pain,
By the Ganges laved in vain.
The Sophi's wisdom fades,
Armour when Death invades ;
From Ararat's mournful shades.
For the islands of the sea !
With sighs of agony,
'Neath the lone banana-tree !
Light for the ancient race
Exiled from Zion's rest! Homeless they roam from place to place,
Benighted and oppress'd;
Guide them to Calvary's breast.
Ye blessed, its beams who shed,
, wherever the footstep of man doth tread, Salvation's banner, spread broadly forth,
Shall gild the dream of the cradle-bed,
And clear the tomb
From its lingering gloom,
MORNING AND EVENING DEVOTION. From a volume of Metrical Essays, by JOHN AMBROSE WILLIAMS, published in 1815. Mr. Williams was, we believe, the editor of a Durham Newspaper.
CREATOR, Lord ! I pour to thee
The strain of grateful adoration,
The varied hymn of wide creation.
Streaming o'er heaven, and earth, and ocean,
In human hearts devotion.
Creator, Lord! when darkly clear
The heavens appear in star-bright lustre,
I see thee in each burning cluster :
On breezes floating soft and slowly,
Creator, Lord ! O deign to guide
My pilgrim-feet from paths of error;
From torturing guilt and gloomy terror.
To light my soul with dreams elysian,
O realize each vision.
The deepening shades of silent nature
And lift man nearer man's Creator.
The sweetest hour is solemn even;
That calmest time is given.
And dews from off the grass are stealing,
The fragrance of the morn revealing;
The feather'd songsters chant their gladness,
Awakens thoughts of sadness.
The thickening gloom that falls in mildness,
When darkness comes in storm and wildness !
evil done to-day,
And spare—from dark perdition,
LIFE, DEATH, AND ETERNITY. poem appeared many years ago without a name in one of the
A SHADOW moving by one's side,
That would a substance seem,-
Like skies beneath the stream :
A tree that's ever in the bloom,
Whose fruit is never ripe ;
Such are the hopes of Life.
A blank that will remain ;
When waiting is in vain;
To show the depth beneath;
That dreaded thing is Death. The vaulted void of purple sky
That everywhere extends,
In space that never ends :
No setting e'er shall see ;
Such is Eternity.
AT MUSING HOUR.
By THOMAS WELLS, an American.
When silence reigns around,
To me 'tis holy ground.
yew and cypress grow; I love the moss-grown stone to trace,
That tells who lies below.
And, as the lonely spot I pass
Where weary ones repose,
My pilgrimage will close.