Temple and pyramid, beyond him rise, O'er the whole world like vernal air shall spread; And bid all earthly grandeurs cast the crown, Before the suffering and the lowly, down. PICTURE OF THE INFANT CHRIST WITH FLOWERS. ALL the bright hues from eastern garlands glowing, Roses, deep-fill'd with rich midsummer's red, Earth gave to Him who mantled her with flowers; To Him who pour'd forth blessings in soft showers O'er all her paths, a cup of bitter scorn! ON A REMEMBERED PICTURE OF CHRIST. AN ECCE HOMO, BY LEONARDO DA VINCI. I MET that image on a mirthful day Of youth; and, sinking with a still'd surprise, The pride of life, before those holy eyes, In my quick heart died thoughtfully away, Abash'd to mute confession of a sway Awful, though meek. And now that, from the strings Of my soul's lyre, the tempest's mighty wings Have struck forth tones which then unwaken'd lay; Now that, around the deep life of my mind, Affections, deathless as itself, have twined, Oft does the pale, bright vision still float by; But more divinely sweet, and speaking now Of One whose pity, throned on that sad brow, Sounded all depths of love, grief, death, humanity! THE CHILDREN WHOM JESUS BLESSED. HAPPY were they, the mothers, in whose sight The conscious glory of the Saviour's love! And shield its first bloom from unholy air; Owning, in each young suppliant glance, the sign Of claims upon a heritage divine. MOUNTAIN SANCTUARIES. "He went up to a mountain apart to pray." A CHILD midst ancient mountains I have stood, Where the wild falcons make their lordly nest On high. The spirit of the solitude Fell solemnly upon my infant breast, Though then I pray'd not; but deep thoughts have press'd Into my being since it breathed that air, Nor could I now one moment live the guest Of such dread scenes, without the springs of prayer O'erflowing all my soul. No minsters rise Like them in pure communion with the skies, Vast, silent, open unto night and day; So might the o'erburden'd Son of Man have felt, When, turning where inviolate stillness dwelt, He sought high mountains, there apart to pray. THE LILIES OF THE FIELD. "Consider the lilies of the field." FLOWERS! when the Saviour's calm, benignant eye A voice He set, as in a temple-shrine, And though too oft its low, celestial sound Than yours, ye Lilies! chosen thus and graced ! THE BIRDS OF THE AIR. "And behold the birds of the air." YE too, the free and fearless birds of air, Were charged that hour, on missionary wing, The same bright lesson o'er the seas to bear, Heaven-guided wanderers, with the winds of Sing on, before the storm and after, sing! [spring. And call us to your echoing woods away From worldly cares; and bid our spirits bring Faith to imbibe deep wisdom from your lay. So may those blessed vernal strains renew Childhood, a childhood yet more pure and true E'en than the first, within th' awaken'd mind; While sweetly, joyously, they tell of life, That knows no doubts, no questionings, no strife, But hangs upon its God, unconsciously resign'd. THE RAISING OF THE WIDOW'S SON. "And he that was dead sat up and began to speak." He that was dead rose up and spoke-He spoke ! Back from their portal summon'd o'er the deep? THE OLIVE TREE. THE palm-the vine-the cedar-each hath power To bid fair Oriental shapes glance by ; And each quick glistening of the laurel bower THE DARKNESS OF THE CRUCIFIXION. ON Judah's hills a weight of darkness hung, Wouldst make thy temple in each human heart, Leave not such darkness in my soul to reign; Ne'er may thy presence from its depths depart, Chased thence by guilt! Oh! turn not thou away, The bright and Morning Star, my guide to perfect day! PLACES OF WORSHIP. "God is a spirit." SPIRIT! whose life-sustaining presence fills Of thee are murmuring,—to its inmost glade The living forest with thy whisper thrills, And there is holiness in every shade. Yet must the thoughtful soul of man invest With dearer consecration those pure fanes, Which, sever'd from all sound of earth's unrest, Hear naught but suppliant or adoring strains Rise heavenward. Ne'er may rock or cave possess Their claim on human hearts to solemn tenderness. OLD CHURCH IN AN ENGLISH PARK.1 CROWNING a flowery slope, it stood alone Seem'd, from that ivied porch, that solemn gleam Reign'd there, the o'ershadowing spirit of the scene. A CHURCH IN NORTH WALES.2 BLESSINGS be round it still! that gleaming fane, There meets the voice of psalms! Yet not alone From the hill-cabins and the ocean-shore. Oh! may the fisher and the mountaineer Words to sustain earth's toiling children hear, Within thy lowly walls, for evermore ! 1 Fawsley Park, near Daventry. 2 That of Aber, near Bangor. LOUISE SCHEPLER. [Louise Schepler was the faithful servant and friend of the pastor Oberlin. The last letter addressed by him to his children for their perusal after his decease, affectingly commemorates her unwearied zeal in visiting and instructing the children of the mountain hamlets, through all seasons, and in all circumstances of difficulty and danger.] A FEARLESS journeyer o'er the mountain-snow Wert thou, Louise! The sun's decaying light Oft, with its latest, melancholy glow, Redden'd thy steep, wild way: the starry night Oft met thee, crossing some lone eagle's height, Piercing some dark ravine: and many a dell Knew, through its ancient rock-recesses well, Thy gentle presence, which hath made them bright Oft in mid-storms-oh! not with beauty's eye, Nor the proud glance of genius keenly burning; No! pilgrim of unwearying charity! Thy spell was love—the mountain-deserts turning To blessed realms, where stream and rock rejoice When the glad human soul lifts a thanksgiving voice! TO THE SAME. For thou, a holy shepherdess and kind, Upon the mountains are the feet of those |