And through the mists of passion and of sense,
The applauding smile of Heaven? Else wherefore burns
That breathes from day to day sublimer things,
Through mountains, plains, through empires black with
And continents of sand, will turn his
That murmurs at his feet? The high-born soul
The fated rounds of time: thence far effused
Of Nature; and looks back on all the stars,
Beyond this concave heaven their calm abode,
Power's purple robes, nor Pleasure's flowery lap,
Through all the ascent of things enlarge her view,
By WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, written for the ceremony of the opening of the Crystal Palace at New York, and reported to have been there sung by the Sacred Music Society" with profound effect."
HERE, where all climes their offerings send,-
Before thy presence, Lord, we bend,
And for thy smile and blessing pray.
For thou dost sway the tides of thought,
And all that human skill has plann'd.
Thou lead'st the restless Power of Mind
And guidest him, wandering, bold but blind,
A Sonnet, by Sir AUBREY DE VERE.
Of mortal tumult to obliterate
The soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be
Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free ;
Strong to consume small troubles; to commend
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end.
TWENTY-THIRD SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
"Who shall change our vile body, that it may be fashioned like unto His glorious body, according to the working whereby He is able even to subdue all things unto Himself."-Philippians iii. 21.
RED o'er the forest peers the setting sun,
That crown'd the eastern copse: and chill and dun
Is all their portion, and they ask no more.
No thought of them; in all the bounteous sky
Yet he complains, while these unmurmuring part
And haply half unblamed his murmuring voice
But catch a gleam beyond it, and 'tis bliss.
O'er wave or field: yet breezes laugh to scorn Our puny speed, and birds, and clouds in heaven, And fish, like living shafts that pierce the main, And stars that shoot through freezing air at evenWho but would follow, might he break his chain ? And thou shalt break it soon; the groveling worm Shall find his wings, and soar as fast and free As his transfigured Lord with lightning form
And snowy vest-such grace He won for thee,
But first, by many a stern and fiery blast
The laggard body soon will waft to Heaven.
THE TRAVELLER'S HYMN OF GRATITUDE.
How are thy servants blest, O Lord!
Their help, Omnipotence!
In foreign realms, and lands remote,
Through burning climes I pass'd unhurt,
Thy mercy sweeten'd every soil,
Think, O my soul, devoutly think,
Confusion dwelt in every face,
And fear in every heart:
When waves on waves, and gulfs on gulfs,
Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord,
Whilst in the confidence of prayer
My soul took hold on thee.
For though in dreadful whirls we hung
I knew thou wert not slow to hear,
The storm was laid, the winds retired,
The sea that roar'd at Thy command,