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It tells that seasons, heat and cold,
Fix'd by his sovereign will,
Shall, in their course, bid man behold
Seed-time and harvest still.
That still the flower shall deck the field,
When vernal zephyrs blow;
That still the vine its fruit shall yield,
When autumn surbeams glow.
Then, child of that fair earth! which yet
Smiles with each charm endow'd,
Bless thou His name, whose mercy set
The rainbow in the cloud !
The Sun comes forth; each mountain height
Glows with a tinge of rosy light,
And flowers, that slumber'd through the night
Their dewy leaves unfold ;
A flood of splendor bursts on high,
And ocean's breast gives back a sky
All steep'd in molten gold.
Oh! thou art glorious, orb of day;
Exulting nations hail thy ray,
Creation swells a choral lay,
To welcome thy return;
From thee all nature draws her hues,
Thy beams the insect's wing suffuse,
And in the diamond burn.
Yet must thou fade ;-when earth ard heaven
By fire and tempest shall be riven,
Thou, from thy sphere of radiance driven,
Oh Sun! must fall at last;
Another heaven, another earth.
New power, new glory shall have birth,
Wlien all we see is past.
But He who gave the word of might,
“Let there be light,”—and there was light.
Who bade thee chase the gloom of night,
And beam the world to bless;
For ever bright, for ever pure,
Alone unchanging shall endure
The Sun of Righteousness!
THE RIVERS. Go! trace th' unnumber'd streams o'er earth
That wind their devious course,
That draw from Alpine heights their birth,
Deep vale, or cavern source.
Some by majestic cities glide,
Proud scenes of man's renown,
Some lead their solitary ride,
Where pathless forests frown.
Some calmly roll o'er golden sands,
Where Afric's deserts lie;
Or spread, to clothe rejoicing lands
With rich fertility.
These bear the bark, whose stately sail
Exulting seems to swell;
While these, scarce rippled by a gale,
Sleep in the lonely dell.
Yet on, alike, though swift or slow
Their various waves may sweep,
Through cities or through shades they flow,
To the same boundless deep.
Oh! thus, whate'er our path of life,
Through sunshine or through gloom,
Through scenes of quiet or of strife,
Its end is still the tomb.
The chief whose mighty deeds we hail,
The monarch throned on high,
The peasant in his native vale
All journey on—to die !
But if Thy guardian care, my God!
The pilgrim's course attend,
I will not fear the dark abode,
To which my footsteps bend.
For thence thine all-redeeming Son,
Who died the world to save,
In light, in triumph, rose, and won
The victory from the grave !
• The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament she weth his handy work."
Psalm xix. 1
No cloud obscures the summer sky,
The moon in brightness walks on high,
And, set in azure, every star
Shines, a pure gem of heaven, afar!
Child the earth! oh! lift thy glance
To yon bright firmament's expanse ;
The glories of its realm explore,
And gaze, and wonder, and adore !
Doth it not speak to every sense,
The marvels of Omnipotence ?
Seest thou not there the Almighty name
Inscribed in characters of fame?
Count o'er those lamps of quenchless light,
That sparkle through the shades of night;
Behold them !-can a mortal boast
To number that celestial host ?
Mark well each little star, whose rays
In distant splendor meet thy gaze :
Each is a world, by him sustain'd
Who from eternity hath reign'd.
Each, kindled not for earth alone,
Hath circling planets of its own,
And beings, whose existence springs
From Him, the all-powerfui King of Kings.
Haply, those glorious beings know
No stain of guilt, or tear of woe;
But, raising still the adoring voice,
For ever in their God rejoice.
What then art thou, O child of clay!
Amid creation's grandeur, say?
E'en as an insect on the breeze,
E’en as a dew-drop, lost in seas !
Yet fear thou not!—the sovereign hand
Which spread the ocean and the land,
And hung the rolling spheres in air,
Hath, e'en for thee, á Father's care!
Be thou at peace! the all-seeing eye,
Pervading earth, and air, and sky-
The searching glance which none may flee,
Is still, in mercy, turned on thee.
"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; then me the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep."-Psalm, cvii. 23, 34.
He that in venturous barks hath been
A wand'rer on the deep,
Can tell of many an awful scene,
Where storms for ever sweep.
For many a fair, majestic sight
Hath met his wand'ring eye,
Beneath the streaming northern light,
Or blaze of Indian sky.
Go! ask him of the whirlpool's roar,
Whose echoing thunder peals
Loud, as if rush'd along the shore
An army's chariot wheels;
Of icebergs, floating o'er the main,
Or fix'd upon the coast,
Like glittring citadel or fane,
'Mid the bright realms of frost ; Of coral rocks, from waves below
In steep ascent that tower,
And fraught with peril, daily grow,
Form’d by an insect's power;
Of sea-fires, which at dead of night
Shine o'er the tides afar,
And make the expanse of ocean bright,
As heaven, with many a star.
O God! thy name they well may praise,
Who to the deep go down,
And trace the wonders of thy ways,
Where rocks and billows frown !
If glorious be that awful deep
No human power can bind,
What then art Thou, who bidd'st it keep
Within its bounds confined !
Let heaver and earth in praise unite,
Eternal praise to Thee,
Whose word can rouse the tempest’s might,
Or still the raging sea !
DEEP, fiery clouds o'ercast the sky,
Dead stillness reigns in air,
There is not e'en a breeze, on high
The gossamer to bear.
The woods are hush'd, the waves at rest
The lake is dark and still,
Reflecting on its shadowy breast
Each form of rock and hill.
The lime-leaf waves not in the grove,
The rose-tree in the bower;
The birds have ceased their song of love,
Awed by the threatening hour.
'Tis noon ;-yet nature's calm profound
Seeins as at midnight deep;
But hark! what peal of awful sound
Breaks on creation's sleep?
The thunder bursts its rolling might
Seems the firm hills to shake;
And in terrific splendor bright,
The gather'd lightnings break.
Yet fear not, shrink not thou, my child!
Though by the bolt's descent
Were the tall cliffs in ruins piled,
And the wide forest rent.
Doth not thy God behold thee still,
With all-surveying eye ?
Doth not his power all nature fill,
Around, beneath, on high?
Know, hadst thou eagle-pinions free,
To track the realms of air,
Thou could'st not reach a spot where He
Would not be with thee there!
In the wide city's peopled towers,
On the vast ocean's plains,
'Midst the deep woodland's loneliest bowers,
Alike the Almighty reigns!
Then fear not, though the angry sky
A thousand darts should cast;
Why should we tremble, e'en to die,
And be with Him at last?
THE BIRDS. u Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings; and not one of them is forgotten De fore God ?"-Si. Luke, xii. 6.
TRIBES of the air! whose favor'd race
May wander through the realms of space,
Free guests of earth and sky ;
In form, in plumage, and in song,
What gifts of nature mark your throng
With bright variety!
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
Your dwellings hid from hostile sight,
And the wild hannts ye love ;
Birds of the gentle beak!* how dear
Your wood-note, to the wand'rer's ear,
In shadowy vale or grove !
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Where swain or hunter may not climb,
* The Italians call all singing birds, birds of the gentle beak.