By Him that lives for ever, swore that "Time Wild cave, and ancient hill, and every rock, The ribs of Nature broke, and all her dark And in the heavens robed in excessive light, The God of Judgment comes." Thus comes the day, The day that many thought should never come, Day of eternal gain for worldly loss; Great day of terror, vengeance, woe, despair; "As ye have sown, so shall ye reap this day! HEALING AT SUNSET. By Mrs. SIGOURNEY. JUDEA'S summer-day went down, The pallid brow, the hectic cheek, He raised his hand, the lame man leap'd, On Nature's glorious show. Up from his bed of misery rose While the loath'd leper dared once more 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 Yes, all that sad, imploring train, 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; Haste, ere the darkening shades of night, 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 other days and thou Make up one man; whose face thou art, Man had straight forward gone The which he doth not fill. Sundays the pillars are, On which heaven's palace arched lies: Which parts their ranks and orders. The Sundays of man's life, On Sunday heaven's gate stands ope; This day my Saviour rose, And did enclose this light for his : Who want herbs for their wound. The rest of our Creation Our great Redeemer did remove Christ's hands, though nail'd, wrought out salvation, The brightness of that day Whose drops of blood paid the full price, Thou art a day of mirth: And where the week-days trail on ground, 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 enterSo it was written-must drink and put away all that is earthly. Earth among 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 Sun, 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 vouch safed us, So we seek it with humble heart;-and the soul that receives it Hath with it Healing and Strength, Peace, Love, and Life Everlasting. 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, Be thou my friend. |