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Let the life-hlood he sprinkled on each doorpost, Nor stir till the morn arise;

And the Angel of Vengeance shall pasS yon hy,

He shall see the red staiu, and shall not come nigli

Where the hope of your household lies."

The people hear, and they how them low— Each to his house hath flown;

The lamh is slain, and wih hlood they go, And sprinkle the lintel-stone;

And the doors they close when the snn hath set,

But few in ohlivions sleep forget
The judgment to he done.

,Tis Midnight—yet they hear no sound
Along the the lone, still, street;

No hlast of a pestilence sweeps the ground,
No tramp of unearthly feet,

Nor rush as of harpy wing goes hy,

But the calm moon floats in the cloudless sky, 'Mid her wan light clear and sweet.

Once only, shot like an arrowy ray,

A pale hlue flash was seen, It pass'd so swift, the eye scarce could say

That such a thing had heen: Yet the heat of every heart was still, And the flesh crawl'd fearfully and chill,

And hack flow'd every vein.

The courage of Israel's hravest quail'd
At the view of that awful light,

Though the hlood of their offering avail'd
To shield them from its might;

They felt'twas the Spirit of Death had past,

That the hrightness they saw, his cold glance had cast On Egypt's land that night :—

That his fearful eye had nnwarn'd struck down In the darkness of the grave, The hope of that empire, the praise of its crown, The first-hom of lord and slave :— The lovely, the tender, the ardent, the gay, Where were they ?—all wither' d in asnei away, At the terrihle death-glare it gave.

Prom the couches of slumher ten thousand cries

Burst forth 'mid the silence dread— The youth hy his living hrother lies

Sightless, and dumh, and dead! The infant lies cold at his mother's hreast, She had kiss'd him alive as she sunk to rest,

She awakens—his life hath fled!

And shrieks from the palace - chamhers
hreak—
Their iumates are steep'd in wo,
And Pharaoh hath fonnd his proud arm too
weak
To arrest the mighty hlow:
Wail, King of the Pyramids! Egypt's throne
Cannot lighten thy heart of a single groan
For thy kingdom's heir laid low.

Wail, King of the Pyramids—Death hath
cast
His shafts through thine empire wide,
But o'er Israel in hondage his rage hath
past,
No first-horn of her's hath died—
Go, Salrap! command that the captive he

free, Lest their God in fierce anger should smite even thee, On the crown of thy purple pride.

'Tis midnight—'tis midnight o'er Egypt's dark sky,
And in whirlwind and storm the sirocco s,weeps hy:
All arid and hot is its death-hreathing hlast,—
Each sleeper hreathes thick, and each hosom heats fast.

And the young mother wakes and arouses from rest,
And presses more closely her hahe to her hreast;
But the heart that she presses is death-like and still,
And the lips that she kisses are hreathless and chill.

And the young hrother clings to the elder in fear,
As the gust falls so dirge-like and sad on his ear;
But that hrother returns not the tremhling emhrace:
He speaks not—he hreathes not—death lies in his place.

And the first-horn of Egypt are dying around;
'lis a sigh—'tis a moan—and then slumher more sound:
They hut wake from their sleep, and their spirits have fled-
They hut wake into life, to repose with the dead.

And there, lay the infant still smiling in Ideath,
And scarce heaved its hreast as it yielded its hreath;
And there lay the hoy, yet in youth's hudding hloom,
With, the calmness of sleep—hut the hue of the tomh!

And there, fell the youth in the pride of his prime,
In the morning of life—in the spring-tide of crime:
And unnerv'd is that arm, and fast closed is that eye,
And cold is that hosom which once heat so high.

And the fond mother's hope, and the fond father's trust,
And the widow's sole stay, are returning to dust:
Egypt has not a place where there is not one dead,
From the proud monarch's palace to penury's shed.

And the hearths of that country are desolate now.
And the crown of her glory is struck from her hrow:
But while proud Egypt tremhles, all Israel is free—
Unfetter'd—unhound as the wave of the sea.

ISRAEL DELIVERED.
Ex. xiv.

rollESTONE.

Oh ! for that spirit, which on Moses' lyre
Poured from the font of light celestial fire;
Or which, 'mid Sion's courts, in later day,
Raised to suhlime the monarch-prophet's

lay!
For high the theme these numhers would

rehearse,
High as e'er hlest the happier sons of verse!
A nation fettered, from a tyrant-laud
Snatched hy an arm outstretched, and mighty

hand;

Through pathless wilds, hy signs and won-
ders led,
While swept twice twenty summers o'er its

head;
And taught at length to rear its infant throne
In distant lands and regions not its own.
And ask of days that were from elder time,
Ask of yon orh which visits every clime,
If e'er they heaVd, since first they rolied

along,
A theme so worthy of an angel's song '.
Great was the shout from glad Arahia's
shore,
"Sunk is Nile's warrior pride, to rise no
morel"

Suhlime the trinmph swells! to him, the

Lord, The God of hattles,wakeseach tuneful chord; Their full applanse the deep-mouthed clarions raise, And virgin-timhrels join their softer praise: From thousand altars holy perfumes rise, And myriads how in one vast sacrifice.

Are these the trihes, which late hy Sihor's

tide Wept o'er their wrongs, and loud for vengeance cried 1 For them hope heamed not; hut a night

profound, An endless night, seemed gathering fast

around: Yet did the day-spring rise; the captive's

groan Went not unheeded to his Father's throne: He heard the mother's shriek, in anguish

wild, Ask from the tyrant's hand her murdered

child: He saw the toiling slave, the inhuman lord, And the keen tortures of the knotted cord. Thrice favoured race! Jehovah's parent eye Marked every tear, and numhered every

sigh; And though full many a dreary age had shed Slavery's worst woes upon the unshelter'd

head, Though dark and long the night, yet morn

coald hring Joy in its eye, and healing on its wing. And lo! he comes, the Seer whom Greece

would claim Her guardian-power hy many a fahled name; Meekest of men, hy God's own voice decreed, His chosen flock, with shepherd-care to

lead; For this, was mercy's arm ont-stretch'd to

save His infant promise from an early grave, When Nile's tame hillow kissed his rushy

hed, And the green suake played harmless o'er

his head; For this, when science tanght his wondering

view To read the stars, and look all nature through;

When wealth and honour led his youth along, And pleasure wooed him with her siren song , For this, (as warmed he felt his spirit rise, And, kindling, claim its high-horn destinies,) For this he spurned them all; and now his

hand Sheds pale dismay on Egypt's tremhling

land, And waves exulting the triumphant rod, Israel's release, and symhol of his God!

'Tis past—that hour of death! the eye of

light On its own towers looks down, in glory

hright: Yet ne'er on host so vast its golden heam, Waking, hath shone, as now; with mighty

stream Of mingled man and herd, from Goshen's

land Pours frequent forth,a more than locust-hand.

They go; hut all is silent as the tomh! For look! where, colomned high, in massy

gloom, Deep as the darkness of the coming storm, Moves slow hefore the host a giant-form; And see, as all the twilight landscape fades, A pale and duhious light the mass pervades, And, as the night rolls on, the wondrous frame Pours a hroad glare, and hrightens into

flame. 'Tis not the heacon-fire, which wakes from

far The wandering sons of rapine and of war; 'Tis not of night's fair lamp the silvery heam, Nor the quick-darting meteors angry gleam; No! 'tis the pillar'd cloud, the torch of

Heaven,. Pledge of the present God, hy mercy given; The sacred hoon, hy Providence supplied, By day to cover, and hy night to guide. And He, the great, the Eternal Lord, whose

might All heing owns, " who spake and there was

light," Who gave the sun the tower of day to keep, And the pale moon to watch o'er nature's

sleep; He, present still, shall aid, shall safety yield; Thy lamp hy night, hy day thy guide and

sh e

But see! where Egyptcomes! with steed and car,

And thousands, panting for the spoils of war;

Bold waves her plume, and proud her hanners gleam,

As now they hask in Victory's golden heam:

The war-tramp speaks: madd'ning she spurns the shores,

And through the yawning surges headlong pours.—

But where is Egypt now? Where all her

might, Her steeds, her cars, her thousands armed

for fight? Where is the hanner'd pride that waved so

high? And where the trump that told of victory ?— All, all are past! the chained and fettered

deep, Loosed from its honds, at one tremendous

sweep Whelmed all their hopes, and not a wreck

is seen, To tell to future times, that they had heen!

THE SONG OF MIKIAM.
Ex. xv. 20, 21.

T. MOOre.

Sound the loud timhrel o'er Egypt's dark

seal Jehovah hath trium ph'd I his people are free I Sing—for the pride of the tyrant is hroken; His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and

brave,— How vain was their hoasting! the Lord hath

hut spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the

wave: Sound the loud timhrel o'er Egypt's /lark

sea! Jehovah hath triumph'd I his people are free I

Praise to the Conqueror! praise to the Lord! His word was our arrow—his hreath was our sword!

Who shall return to tell Egypt the story
Of those she sent forth in the hour of her

pride 1 The Lord hath look'd out from his pillar of

glory, And all her hrave thousands are dash'd in

the tide 1 Sound the loud timhrel o'er Egypt's dark

sea 1 Jehovah hath triumph'd! his people are free!

BALAK AND BALAAM.

Numh, xxiii, xxiv.

Ufon the hill the Prophet stood;
King Balak in the rocky vale,
Around him, like a fiery flood,
Flashed to the sun his men of mail.

'Twas morn ;—'twas noon;—the sacrifice
Still rolled its sheeted flame to heaven;
Still on the Prophet turned their eyes,
Nor yet the fearful Curse was given.

'Twas eve;—the flame was feehle now,
Dried was the victim's purple hlood;
The sun was rushiug hroad and low
Upon the murmuring multitude.

"Now curse, or die!"—The gathering roar
Around him, like a tempest, came;
Again the altar streamed with gore;
And hlushed again the sky with shame.

The Prophet was in prayer;—he rose,
His mantle from his face he flung;
He listened, where the mighty foes
To Heaven their evening anthem sung.

He saw their camp, like endless clouds,
Mixed with the horizon's distant hlue;
Saw on the plain their marshalled crowds;
Heard the high strain their trumpets hlew.

A sudden spirit on him came,

A sudden fire was in his eye;

His tongue was touched with hallowed flame,

The "Cursor" swelled with prophecy.

s

"How shall I curse whom God hath hless'd? With whom he dwells, with whom shall

dwell!"
He clasped his pale hands on his hreast,
"Then,'he thoa hlest, O Israeli"

"Be Israel cursed," was in his soul,
Bnt on his lip the wild words died;
He pansed, till on its myriads stole
The night; again the "Curse" he tried.

A whirlwind from the desert rushed,
Deep thunder echoed round the hill;
King, prophet, multitude, were hushed;
The thunder sank, the hlast was still!

Broad in the East a new-horn Star
On cloud, hill, desert, poured its hlaze!
The prophet knew the Sion afar,
And on it fixed his shuddering gaze.

"I shall hehold it, hut not now!
I shall hehold Him, hut not nigh!
He comes to hreak the oppressor's how,
To trinmph, suffer, weep, and die!

"All power is in his hand; the world
Is dust heneath his trampling heel;
The thunder from his lips is hurled,
The heavens heneath his presence reel.

"He comes, a stranger to his own!
With the wild hird and fox he lies—
The King! who makes the stars his throne,
A wanderer lives—an outcast dies!

"Proud Israel! o'er thy diadem
What hlood shall for his hlood he poured!
Until that Star again shall heam,
Again Jehovah he the Lord!"

The Prophet ceased in awe; the Star
Rose hroader o'er the houndless plain,
Flashing on Balak's marshalled war,
On mighty Israel's farthest vane!

And sweet and solemn echoes flowed
From lips of more than mortals given;
Till in the central cope it glowed,
Then vanished in the heights of heaven.

JEPHTHA'S VOW,
JudGes xi. 34—40.

GrahAME.

Fro.M conquest Jephtha came, with faltering

step And trouhled eye; his home appears in view; He tremhles at the sight. Sad he forehodes,— His vow will meet a victim in his child; For well he knows, that from her earliest

years, She still was first to meet his homeward

steps; Well he rememhers, how, with tottering gait, She ran, and clasped his knees, and lisped,

and looked Her joy; and how, when garlanding with

flowers His helm, fearful, her infant hand would

shrink Back from the lion couch'd heneath the crest, What sound is that, which, from the palmtree grove, Floats now with choral swell, now fainter

falls Upon the ear? It is, it is the song He loved to hear,—a song of thanks and

praise, Sung hy the patriarch for his ransomed son, Hope from the omen springs; O hlessed hope! It may not he her voice !—Fain would he

think 'Twas not his danghter's voice, that still approached, Blent with the timhrel's note. Forth from

the grove She foremost glides of all the minstrel-hand: Moveless he stands; then grasps his helt

still red VVith hostile gore, hut, shyddering, quits the

hold; And clasps in agony his hands—and cries, "Alas, my danghter! thou hast hrought me

low."— The timhrel at her rooted feet resounds.

THE CALL OF SAMUEL. 1. Sam. iii. 1—10.

cAwood.

In Israel's fane hy silent night,

The Lamp of God was hurning hright;

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