By Him that lives for ever, swore that “ Time
Should be no more!” Throughout, creation heard,
And sigh’d-All rivers, lakes, and seas, and woods,
Desponding waste, and cultivated vale,
Wild cave, and ancient hill, and every rock,
Sigh’d. Earth, arrested in her wonted path,
As ox, struck by the lifted axe when nought
Was fear’d, in all her entrails deeply groan'd.
An universal crash was heard, as if
The ribs of Nature broke, and all her dark
Foundations fail'd: and deadly paleness sat
On every face of man; and every heart
Grew chill

, and every knee his fellow smote.
None spoke, none stirr'd, none wept; for horror held
All motionless, and fetter'd every tongue.
Again, on all the nations silence fell :
And in the heavens robed in excessive light,
That drove the thick of darkness far aside,
And walk’d with penetration keen through all
The abodes men, er angel stood,
And blew the trump of God: " Awake !'ye dead.
Be changed, ye living, and put on the garb
Of immortality. Awake! arise !
The God of Judgment comes.”

Thus comes the day,
The day that many thought should never come,
That all the wicked wish'd should never come;
Day greatly fear'd, and yet too little fear'd
By him who fear'd it most :
Day of eternal gain for worldly loss ;
Day of eternal loss for worldly gain ;
Great day of terror, vengeance, woe, despair ;
Revealer of all secrets, thoughts, desires ;
Rein-trying, heart-investigating day;
That stood between Eternity and Time,
Review'd all past, determin'd all to come,
And bound all destinies for evermore!
“As ye have sown, so shall ye reap this day !”

JUDEA's summer-day went down,

And lo! from vale and plain,
Around the heavenly Healer throng'd

A sick and sorrowing train.
The pallid brow, the hectic cheek,

The cripple bent with care,
And he whose soul dark demons lash'd

To foaming rage, were there.
He raised his hand, the lame man leap'd,

The blind forgot his woe,
And with a startling rapture gazed

On Nature's glorious show.
Up from his bed of misery rose

The paralytic pale,
While the loath'd leper dared once more

His fellow-man to hail.

The lunatic's illumined brow,

With smiles of love o'erspread, Assured the kindred hearts that long

Had trembled at his tread.

The mother to her idiot-boy

The name of Jesus taught,
Who thus with sudden touch had fired

The chaos of his thought.

Yes, all that sad, imploring train,

He heal'd ere evening fell,
And speechless joy was born that night

In many a lonely cell.
Ere evening fell! Oh ye, who find

The chills of age descend,
And with the lustre of your locks

The almond-blossom blend;

125

Haste, ere the darkening shades of night,

Have every hope bereaved,
Nor leave the safety of the soul

Unstudied, unachieved.

SUNDAY.
This quaint but beautiful poem is by GEORGE HERBERT, author of
The Temple, who died about 1635.

O DAY most calm, most bright,
The fruit of this, the next world's bud;
The indorsement of supreme delight,
Writ by a friend, and with his blood;
The couch of time ; care's balm and bay;
The week were dark, but for thy light:

Thy torch doth show the way.

The other days and thou
Make up one man; whose face thou art,
Knocking at heaven with thy brow:
The working days are the back part;
The burden of the week lies there,
Making the whole to stoop and bow,

Till thy release appear.

Man had straight forward gone
To endless death ; but thou dost pull
And turn us round to look on one,
Whom, if we were not very dull,
We could not choose but look on still ;
Since there is no place so alone

The which he doth not fill.

Sundays the pillars are,
On which heaven's palace arched lies :
The other days fill up

the

spare
And hollow room with vanities.
They are the fruitful beds and borders
In God's rich garden : that is bare

Which parts their ranks and orders.

The Sundays of man's life,
Threaded together on time's string,
Make bracelets to adorn the wife
Of the eternal glorious King.

On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope;
Blessings are plentiful and rife,
More plentiful than hope.

This day my Saviour rose,

And did enclose this light for his :
That, as each beast his manger knows,
Man might not of his fodder miss.
Christ hath took in this piece of ground,
And made a garden there for those

Who want herbs for their wound.

The rest of our Creation

Our great Redeemer did remove
With the same shake, which at his passion
Did the earth and all things with it move.
As Sampson bore the doors away,

Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought out salvation,
And did unhinge that day.

The brightness of that day

We sullied by our foul offence:
Wherefore that robe we cast away,
Having a new at his

expense,

Whose drops of blood paid the full price,
That was required to make us gay,
And fit for Paradise.

Thou art a day of mirth:

And where the week-days trail on ground,
Thy flight is higher, as thy birth:

O let me take thee at the bound,
Leaping with thee from seven to seven,
Till that we both, being toss'd from earth,
Fly hand in hand to heaven!

THE BEATIFICATION.

A passage from SOUTHEY's Vision of Judgment.

THEN methought we approach'd the Gate. In front of the

portal

From a rock where the standard of man's redemption was

planted,

Issued the Well of Life, where whosoever would enter-
So it was written-must drink and put away all that is

earthly. Earth anong its gems, its creations, of art and of nature, Offers not ought whereto that marvellous Cross may be

liken'd, Even in dim similitude, such was its wonderful substance ! Pure it was and diaphanous. It had no visible lustre ;Yet from it alone whole heaven was illuminate alway,(Day and Night being none in the upper firmament; neither Šun, nor moon, nor stars ;) but from that Cross, as a

fountain. Flow'd the light uncreated, -light all-sufficing, eternal ;Light which was, and which is, and which will be for ever

and ever. Light of Light, which, if daringly gazed on, would blind an

Archangel, Yet the eye of weak man may behold! and beholding is

strengthen'd. Yea, while we wander below, opprest with our bodily bur

den, And in the Shadow of Death, this Light is in mercy vouchSo we seek it with humble heart ;--and the soul that receives

it Hath with it Healing and Strength, Peace, Love, and Life

Everlasting.

safed us,

I AM THY FRIEND.
The author of this poem is not known to us.
While in the desert lonely I roam,
Fainting and weary, longing for home,
Thou with thy presence say " Hope to the end,
I will sustain thee,

I am thy friend."
Closer than brother cleave thou to me,
Truer than mother deign thou to be,
Pardon my vileness,—thy mercy extend,
Oh, Thou long-sufferer,

Be thou

my

friend.