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By JAMES MONTGOMERY.
Gon in the high and holy place,
Looks down upon the spheres ;
To every eye appears.
In every stream His bounty flows,
Diffusing joy and wealth;
The breath of life and health.
His blessings fall in plenteous showers,
Upon the lap of earth,
And rings with infant mirth.
Where sin and death abound;
Will Paradise be found.
TO CHIMBORAZO, THE HIGHEST OF THE ANDES.
From the Winter's Wreath. By E. W. Cox.
Record of another race,
Thou of the high and haughty place!
Uprear'd thee thus to be
A monstrous mystery?
What changes hast thou seen ?
What mightiness hath been !
Did human labour lift thee there,
To be a record vast
The beings of the past ? Thy adamantine feet low lie
Based in the groaning lands ;
Rock'd by no mortal hands ;-
And still, above the shock,
And the down-rolling rock.
A remnant of a mightier world ; A record of a race forgot
From its haughty station hurl’d ? 'Tis said that in the days of old, The aspiring giants upward rollid
An immeasurable heap
Above yon azure steep :
Thou mighty towering one?
As thou dwellest there alone: Perchance the days have been that thou Hast veil'd that high and hoary brow
Beneath the green sea-waves ;The billows-they perchance have swept That form--the sportive sea-bird leapt
Amid those rock-hewn caves.
Till that tremendous shock
When, at the trumpet-blast, the world Will be from its existence hurl'd,
And heaven shall pass away! Thou still wilt stand a wonder there High hovering in heaven's purest air,
Till the great Judgment day.
Immortal hill! aspiring stone !
But seldom human eye
The dread profundity.
To seek thy solemn brow ;
Mountain! with awe I look on thee,
Thou art a fearful thing;
With thy might communing :
Enraptured still to trace ;
To see his glorious face !
SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST.
By JAMES MONTGOMERY.
Go to dark Gethsemane
Follow to the judgment-hall,
Calvary's mournful mountain climb;
Early hasten to the tomb,
Where they laid His breathless clay;
All in solitude and gloom,
-Who hath taken Him away?
THERE God unfolds His presence, clouded here,
A fire ethereal, unperceived itself,
Felt in its glorious energy, pervades
And thrills through every part the taintless whole :
Instinct with immortality, and touch'd
A passage from YOUNG's Night Thoughts.
AND did He rise?
Powers most illumined wilder'd in the theme.
The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ?
Took wing, and mounted with Him from the tomb.
Triumphant pass'd the crystal ports of light,
CHRIST'S ENTRY INTO JERUSALEM.
By ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.
FROM Olivet's sequester'd seats,
What sounds of transport spread?
What concourse moves through Salem's streets,
Behold Him there in lowliest guise !
The Saviour of mankind! Triumphal shouts before Him rise,
And shouts reply behind:
And "strike," they cry, your loudest string: