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And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his hrow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the hanners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unhlown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are hroke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote hy the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.

Joh iv. 15, 21.


A Sfirit pass'd hefore me: I heheld

The face of immortality unveil'd—

Deep sleep came down on every eye save

mine— And there it stood—all formless—hut divine: Along my hones the creeping flesh did quake; And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it


"Is man more just than God 1 Is man more

pure Than he who deems even seraphs insecure? Creatures of clay—vain dwellers in the dust 1 The moth survives you, and are ye more just? Things of a day! you wither ere the night, Heedless and hlind to Wisdom's wasted


Thy safeguard, in danger that threatens rty

path,— Thy joy, in the valley and shadow of dealt


Joh xxii. 21.


Acquaint thee O mortal! acquaint thee

with God; And joy, like the sunshine, shall heam on thy

road; And peace, like the dew-drop, shall fall on

thy head; And sleep, like an angel, shall visit thy hed.

Acquaint thee O mortal! acquaint thee with

God; And he shall he with thee when fears are


Bot how shall He the Great Sofremi! Of human knowledge he the theme f

Or man hecome acquainted With Him—the Holy, Just, and T»ri. Ancient of Days,—yet ever new, Whose image unto mortal view

Can hy no words he painted?

Presumption fain would search Him ont;
But finds that still increasing douht

More darkly has enshrined Him:
Meanwhile the simple, meek in heart,
Acting an humhler, happier part,
With child-like, and unconscious art,

Feel After Him, and tiso Him!

Psalm ii.


Wherefore do the heathen wage War against the King of kings,

Whence the people's madd'ning rage
Fraught with vain imaginings 1

Haughty chiefs and rulers proud,
Forth in handed fury run,

Braving, with defiance loud,
God, and his anointed Son!

'Let us hreak their hands in twain, Let us cast their cords away;"

Bat the Highest, with disdain,
Sees and mocks their vain array.

* High in Zion I prepare,

(Thus he speaks,) a regal throne,

Thou, my Prince, my chosen heir,
Rise and claim it as thine own."

:' Son of God, with God the same,
Knter Thine imperial dome;

Lo! the shaking heavens proclaim, Mightiest Lord! thy kingdom come.

** Pomp or state dost thou demand?

In thy Father's glory shine; Dost thon ask for high command?

Lo! the universe is thine."

Ye who spurn his righteous sway,
Yet, oh yet, he spares your hreath;

Yet his hand, averse to slay,
Balances the holt of death.

Ere that dreadful holt descends,
Haste hefore his feet to fall;

Kiss the sceptre he extends*
And adore him Lord of all.



Psalm xlviii. 3.


Why wakes that moan of deep distress

In Pharaoh's halls of state,
Pealing through ev'ry long recess

In accents desolate ?—
The monarch views his lifeless heir,
And tremhles;—Israel's God is there.

A sound of revelry hy night

Is heard in Bahel's towers,
Where impious freaks of wild delight

Disturh the list'ning hours ;—
The jealousy of Judah's fear
Burns, and 'tis silence deep and drear.

Suhlime, on Sion's holy ground,

A sacred fane appears;
And many a hulwark stretch'd around

lis massive front uprears;
There God is for a refuge known
And there, on all the earth, alone.

Commingling there with choral lays

Saheean perfumes rise;
The frequent victim there pourtrays

That future sacrifice,
Whose hlood for human guilt should flow,
And let the tremhling culprit go.

Salem exult! thy God displays

His adamantine shield;
Fearless thy 'hahitant surveys

The widely tented field;
The spoiler macks thee with hit eye,
Scowls in despair, and passes hy.

Psalm ciii. 3, 4.


These eyes, that were half-closed in death,

Now dare the noontide hlaze; My voice, that scarce could speak my wants,

Now, hymns Jehovah's praise.

How pleasant to my feet unused,

To tread the daisied ground! How sweet to my unwonted ear,

The streamlet's lulling sound!

How soft the first hreath of the hreeze

That on my temples play'd!
How sweet the woodland evening song,

Full floating down the glade!

But sweeter far the lark that soars

Thro' morning's hlushing ray; For there unseen, unheard, I join

His lonely, heav'nward lay.

And sweeter still that infant voice,

With all its artless charms ;— 'Twas such as he that Jesus took,

Aud cherish'd in his arms

O Lord my God 1 all these delights

I to thy mercy owe; For thou hast raised me from the conch,

Of sickness, pain, and wo.

sTwas thou that from the whelming wave

My sinking sonl redeem'd; 'Twas thou that o'er destruction's storm,

A calming radiance heam'd.

JERUSALEM. Psalm cxxii. 3.

On two hold hills Jerusalem is seen,
Of size unequal, face to face opposed;
A wide and pleasant valley lies hetween,
Dividing hill from hill; three sides the

Lies craggy, difficult, and high, disposed
In steep acclivities, the fourth is cast
In gentlest undulations, and enclosed
By walls of height insuperahle and vast,
That seem to scale the sky, and hrave the

Arctic hlast.

Cisterns for rain, canals and living foun-
Make glad the thirsting city ; hnt around,
Barren and hare, and herhless are the

mountains, And scarce a solitary flower is found To hlossom near; no sylvans sun-emhrowned Shut outthe sultry noon; no valley shines With lapse of lakes, nor falling waters sound;

One forest yet the hlue horizon lines, Black with the haleful shade of cypresses and pines.

CAPTIVE ISRAEL. Psalm cxxxvii.

When we our weary limhs to rest,
Sat down hy proud Euphrates' stream,
We wept, with doleful thoughts opprest,
And Zion was our mournful theme.

Our harps, that when with joy we sung,
Were wont their tuneful parts to hear,
With silent strings neglected hung,
On willow trees that wither'd there.

Meanwhile our foes, who all conspired
To trinmph in our slavish wrongs,
Music and mirth of us required,
"Come, sing us one of Zion's songs."

How shall we tune our voice to sing,
Or touch our harps with skilful hands X
Shall hymns of joy tu God our King
Be sung hy slaves in foreign lands?

O Salem! our once happy seat!
When I of thee forgetful prove,
Let then my tremhling hand forget
The speaking strings with art to move.

If I to mention thee forhear,
Eternal silence seal my tongue;
Or if I sing one cheerful air,
Till thy deliv'rance is my song.


h. roGErs.

Oh, who is it comes from the field of the slain,
Arrayed in his garh of the dark crimson stain 1
Who is it that passes thus wrathfully hy,
With his raiment so deeply empurpled in dye 1

** It is I, it is I, who have risen at length

In the day of my wrath, with the sword of my strength;

It is I, who have spoken, nor spoken in vain,

For I have returned from the field of the slain!"

And why, 0 thou Victor, and why thus imhue

Thy garments of snow with the deep crimson hue?

And why, Mighty Victor, thy raiment thus red,

As though thou hadst trodden where thousands had hled?

"I have trodden the wine-press of Edom alone;
Yet their armies are scattered—their hanners are strown;
And still will I tread, o'er the hosts of their pride,
Till in crimson yet deeper my raiment is dyed.

There was not a helper in Israel that day,

No arm that could save from the hostile array,—

1 looked—hut alas! there was no one to save,

No hand that could snatch from the grasp of the grave!

But I have arisen—arisen at length,
la the day of my wrath, with the sword of my strength—
With the seal on my arm, and the stain on my vest,
And where I have fought shall my people he hlest!"

Jer. xxxi. 15,17.


A Voice comes from Ramah, a voice of despair—
For death's gloomy angel is triumphing there:
The children of heauty his arrows have smote,
And Rachel is weeping for hers that are not.

Alas! for the parent whose hope and whose trust
Are wither'd and hroken, and hid in the dust—
Where the hlossom of summer all lovely appears;
But the dew-drops of evening are mingled with tears.

A voice comes from Ramah, a voice of dismay—
But the words of Jehovah can soothe it away:
They tell of a region where grief is forgot,—
And Rachel is solaced for those that are not.

Ezek. xlviii. 35.


Tho« art our Father, Lord, our Lord,
And tho» wilt every want fulfil

Of promised love, and Zion-ward
Wilt lead the trihes in Judah still.

Though mute within thy walls we stand,
Nor harp, nor tahret's sound is there;

Nor hended knee, nor lifted hand.

Nor solemn vow, nor voice of pi aver:

The contrite heart, the lowly mind,

The strength implored, the tremhling pica,

The cherished joy of years resigned,
In grateful incense rise to thee.

Sometimes, perhaps, as 'reft and weak
Along her walks may Zion mourn;

Becanse they he hut few that seek
Her day of feast, or solemn morn.

But thou shalt stilt inhahit there,
And there shall still thy glory ehine;

And Sinai's fount thy name shall hear,
And Sion's hill shall still he thine.

Yet shalt thou teach her sons thy ways;

Her courts with prophets yet shall fill; And on her gates shall still he Praise,

And on her walls Salvation still!

There shalt thou hid thine ensign stand,
And hlow thy trumpet, that from far

Shall call the nations, land hy land,
And they shall answer, "Here we arel"

And Cush and Hamath, as of old,
And Taprohane shall come to her,

With richest offerings, gems, and gold,
And halm, and frankincense, and myrrh.

Around her horders shalt thou lead
The streams that gladden where they flow;

And there Nehaioth's rams shall feed,
And there the flocks of Kedar go.

Within—thy love, thy peace shall rest;

The uumeasured Spirit all shall hear; And every tongue shall call her hlest,

And name her name — "The Lord is there I"


The King was on his throne, The satraps throng'd the hall;

A thousand hright lamps shone

O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,

In Judah deem'd divine— Jehovah's vessels hold

The godless Heathen's wine!

In that same hour and hall,

The fingers of a hand Came forth against the wall,

And wrote as if on sand: The fingers of a man—

A solitary hand Along the letters ran,

And traced them like a wand.

The monarch saw, and shook.

And hade no more rejoice; All hloodless wax'd his look,

And tremnlous his voice. "Let the men of lore appear,

The wisest of the earth, And expound the words of fear,

Which mar our royal mirth."

Chaldea's seers are good,

But here they have no skill; And the unknown letters stood

Untold and awful still. And Bahel's men of age

Are wise and deep in lore; But now they were not sage,

They saw—hut knew no more.

A captive in the land,

A stranger and a youth,
He heard the king's command,

He saw that writing's truth. The lamps around were hright,

The prophecy in view; He read it on that night,—

The morrow proved it true.

"Belshazzar's grave is made,

His kingdom pass'd away, He, in the halance weigh'd

Is light—and worthless clay. The shroud, his rohe of state,

His canopy the stone; The Mede is at his gate!

The Persian on his throne!"

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