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GOD VISIBLE IN HIS WORKS.
T. MOO BE.
Thou art, O God, the life and light,.
Its glow hy day, its smile hy night,
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and hright are thine.
When day, with farewell heam delays,
Among th' op'ning clouds of even, And we can almost think we gaze
Through golden vistas into heaven; Those hues that mark the sun's decline, So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine.
When night, with wings of stormy gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark heauteous hird, whose plume Is sparkling with a thousand eyes,
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.
When youthful spring around us hreathes,
And every flow'r the summer wreathes,
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and hright are thine.
Aeove—helow—where'er I gaze,
I hear thee in the stormy wind,
I find tijee in the noon of night,
That drinks its splendor from the light
And when the radiant orh of light
Thine is the silent noon of night,
THE BENEVOLENCE OF GOD.
U. M. wIllIAMS.
My God, all nature owns thy sway;
Thou giv'st the night, and thou the day;
When all thy lov'd creation wakes,
When morning rich in lustre hreaks,
And hathes in dew the op'ning flower,
To thee we owe her fragrant hour;
And, when she pours her choral song,
Her melodies to thee helong!
Or when, in paler tints array'd,
The evening slowly spreads her shade;
That soothing shade, that grateful gloom,
Can, more than day's enliv'ning hloom,
Still ev'ry fond and vain desire,
And calmer, purer thoughts inspire;
From earth the pensive spirit free,
And lead the soften'd heart to thee.
In every scene thy hands have dreas'd.
In every form hy thee impress'd,
Upon the mountain's awful head,
Or where the shelt'ring woods are spread;
In every note that swells the gale,
Or tuneful stream that cheers the vale,
The cavern's depth or echoing grove,—
A voice is heard of praise and love.
As o'er thy works the seasons roll,
And soothe, with change of hliss, the soul.
Oh never may their smiling train
Whene'er we climh the mountain's head,
In the fresh halmy ev'ning hreeze,
Love decks the finely varied flowers,
sTis love that paints the insect quires,
Nay, ev'ry sight that wins the eye,
BBV. h. Moore.
My God! thy houndles love we praise:
How sweetly hloom helow!
And o'er the earth they flow.
'Tis love that gilds the vernal ray-
Tis Love that loads the plenteous plain,
But, in thy gospel, it appears
And charms the ravish'd hreast;
And give the weary rest.
There smiles a kind propitious God—
The pledge of sins forgiv'n;
And opens all her heav'n.
Then, in redeeming love rejoice,
My soul!—and hear a Saviour's voice,
That calls thee to the skies: Ahove life's empty scenes aspire— Its sordid cares and mean desire—
And seize th' eternal prize.
THE GOODNESS OF GOD,
Immense Creator! whose all-powerful hand Fram'd universal heing, and whose eye Saw like thyself, that all things form'd were
good, Where shall the timorous hard thy praise
hegin, Where end the purest sacrifice of song, And just thanksgiving? The thought kindling light, Thy prime production, darts upon my mind Its vivifying heams, my heart illumines, And fills my soul with gratitude and thee. Hail to the cheerful rays of ruddy mora, That paint the streaky east, and hlithesome
rouse The hirds, the cattle, and mankind from rest! Hail to the freshuess of the early hreeze, And Iris dancing on the new-fall'n dew. Without the aid of yonder golden glohe, Lost were the garnet's lustre, lost the lily, The tulip and anricula's spotted pride;
Lost were the peacock's plumage; to the sight
white, The purple, and the gold, that far outvie The eastern monarchs' garh, cv'n with the
dock, Ev'n with the haleful hemlock's irksome
green. Without thy aid, without thy gladsome
heams, The trihe of woodland warhlers would
remain Mote on the hending hranches, nor recite The praise of him, who, ere he formed
their lord, Their voices tuned to transport, wing'd
their flight, And hade them call for nurture, and receive: And lo! they call; the hlackhird, and the
thrush, The woodlark, and the redhreast jointly call; He hears, and feeds their feather'd families; He feeds his sweet musicians:—nor neglects The invoking ravens in the greenwood wide; And tho' their throats coarse rattling hurt
the ear, They mean it all for music, thanks, and praise To him who feeds, who clothes, and who
adorns, Who made and who preserves, whatever
dwells In air, in stedfast earth, or fickle sea. O He is good, He is immensely good t Who all things form'd, and form'd them all
for man; Who mark'd the climates, varied every zone, Dispensing all his hlessings for the hest, In order, and in heauty: rise, attend, Arrest, and praise, ye quarters of the world! Bow down, ye elephants, suhmissive how To him who made the mite! Tho* Asia's
pride, Ye carry armies on your tower-crown'd
hacks, And grace the turhan'd tyrants, how to Him Who is as great, as perfect, and as good In his less striking wonders, till at length
The eye's at fault, aud seeks th' a&sistiug
glass. Approach and hring from Arahy the hlest, The fragrant cassia, frankincense, and myrrh, And, meekly kneeling at the altar's foot, Lay all the trihutary incense down. Stoop, feehle Africa, with rev'rence stoop, And from thy hrow take off the painted
plume; With golden ingots all thy camels load I' adorn his temples, hasten with thy spear Reverted, and thy trusty how unstrung, While uupursued thy lions roam and roar, And ruin'd tow'rs, rude rocks, and caverns
wide Remurmur to the glorious, surly sound. And thou, fair India, whose immense domain To counterpoise the hemisphere extends, Haste from the West, and with thy fruits
and flowers, Thy mines and med'eines, wealthy maid
attend. More than the plenteousness so fam'd to flow By fahling hards from Amalthea's horn Is thine; thine therefore he a portion due Of thanks and praise; come with thy hrilliant crown And vest of fur; and from thy fragrant lap Pomegranates and the rich ananas pour. But chiefly thou Europa, seat of Grace And Christian excellence, his goodness own. Forth from ten thousand temples pour his
praise. Clad in the armour of the living God, Approach, unsheath the Spirit's flaming
sword; Faith's shield, salvation's glory—compass'd
helm With fortitude assume, and o'er your heart Fair truth's invulnerahle hreast-plate spread; Then join the general chorus of all worlds, And let the song of charity hegin In strains seraphic, and melodious prayer: "O all-sufficient, all-heneficent, "Thou God of goodness, and of glory, hear I "Thou, who to lowest minds dost condescend, "Assuming passions to enforce thy laws, "Adopting jealousy to prove thy love: "Thou who resign'd humility uphold'st "Even as the florist props the drooping rose, C
'But quell'st tyrannic pride wiih peerless
power, 'Even as the tempest rives the stuhhorn
oak: 'O all-sufficient, all-heneficent, 'Thou God of goodness, and of glory hear! "Bless all mankind; and hring them in the
end 'To Heav'n, to Immortality, and Thee."
THE FAITHFULNESS OF GOD.
Not seldom, clad in radiant vest,
Not seldom ev'ning, in the west,
The smoothest seas will sometimes prove
To the confiding hark untrue; And if she trusts the stars ahove,
They can he treach'rons too.
The umhrageous hark, in pomp outspread,
Draws lightning down upon the head
But thou art true, incarnate Lord I
Thy smile is sure, thy plighted word
I hent hefore thy gracious throne,
And peace was giv'n—nor peace alone,
ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.
God of my life I and Author of my days! Permit my feehle voice to lisp thy praise; And tremhling take upon a mortal tongue That hallow'd name to harps of seraphs sung.
Yet here the hrightest seraphs can no more Than hide their faces, tremhle, and adore. Worms, angels, men, in every different
sphere, Are equal all, for all are nothing here. All nature faints heneath the mighty name, Which nature's works, thro' all their parts
proclaim. I feel that name my iumost thoughts control, And hreathe an awful stillness thro' my soul; As hy a charm, the waves of grief suhside: Impetuous passion stops the headlong tide: At thy felt presence all emotions cease* And my hush'd spirit finds a sudden peace, Till every worldly thought within me dies, And earth's gay pageants vanish from my
eyes; Till all my sense is lost in infinite, And one vast ohject fills my aching sight.
But soon, alas! this holy calm is hroke; My soul suhmits to wear her wonted yoke; With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain, And mingles with the dross of earth again. But BE, our gracious Master, kind, as just, Knowing our frame, rememhers we are dust: His spirit ever hrooding o'er our mind, Sees the first wish to hetter hopes inclin'd, Marks the young dawn of every virtuous
aim, And fans the smoking flax into a flame. His ears are open to the softest cry, His grace descends to meet the lifted eye; He reads the language of a silent tear, And sighs are incense from a heart sincere. Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give; Accept the vow, and hid the suppliant live; From each terrestrial hondage set me free; Still every wish that centers not in thee; Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease, And point my path to everlasting peace.
If the soft hand of winning pleasure leads By living waters, and thro' flow'ry meads, When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene, And vernal heauty paints the- flatt'ring
scene, Oh teach me to elude each latent snare, And whisper to my sliding heart—Beware! With caution let me hear the syren's voice, And douhtful, with a tremhling heart rejoice.
If friendless in a vale of tears I stray,
I read his awful name emhlazon'd high,
In every creature own ihy forming power,
Then, when the last, the closing hour
Great All in All 1 I hend in dust hefore Thee,
Even so veil'd cheruhs hend ;—
All-wise, all-present Friend!
Or curtained it in snow:
Before Thy presence how.
Thy power and wisdom spread the map of nature,
That map so fair and hright:
Pouring its streams of light.
Quickens the teeming sea;
Thine, heaven's soft harmony.
Thine is the heam on ocean's hosom glancing.
Thine is the thunder-cloud:
To the tomh's solitnde.
Heaves with Thy mighty hreath:
Drops in the lap of death.