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Till all my sense is lost in infinite,
And one vast object fills my aching sight.

But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain,
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust.
His spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined;
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 bid the suppliant live;
From each terrestrial bondage set me free;
Still every wish that centres 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 through flowery meads,
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene,-
Oh! teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart," Beware!"
With caution let me hear the Siren's voice,
And, doubtful, with a trembling heart rejoice.
If, friendless, in a vale of tears I stray,

Where briers wound, and thorns perplex my way,-
Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,

And with strong confidence lay hold on thee;
With equal eye, my various lot receive,

Resigned to die, or resolute to live;
Prepared to kiss the sceptre or the rod,

While God is seen in all, and all in God.

34 *

402

YOUNG LADIES' CLASS BOOK.

I read his awful name, emblazoned high, With golden letters, on the illumined sky; Nor less the mystic characters I see

Wrought in each flower, inscribed on every tree:
In every leaf, that trembles to the breeze,

I hear the voice of God among the trees.
With thee in shady solitudes I walk,
With thee in busy, crowded cities talk;
In every creature own thy forming power,
In each event thy providence adore :
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control.
Thus shall I rest unmoved by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of the arms,
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in thee.
Then, when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When, trembling, on the doubtful edge of fate
I stand, and stretch my view to either state ;-
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph, and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And, having lived to thee, in thee to die.

LESSON CLXXX.

God.-BOWRING.

[Translated from the Russian of Derzhavin.]

O THOU Eternal One! whose presence bright All space doth occupy, all motion guide; Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight; Thou only God! There is no God beside! Being above all beings! Mighty One!

Whom none can comprehend and none explore; Who fill'st existence with Thyself alone: Embracing all,-supporting,-ruling o'er,

Being, whom we call God!—and know no more.

In its sublime research, philosophy

May measure out the ocean-deep; may count The sands, or the sun's rays; but, God! for thee There is no weight nor measure:-none can mount Up to thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark,

Though kindled by thy light, in vain would try To trace thy counsels, infinite and dark;

And thought is lost, ere thought can soar so high, Even like past moments in eternity.

Thou from primeval nothingness didst call

First chaos, then existence. Lord, on thee Eternity had its foundation: all

Sprung forth from thee-of light, joy, harmony, Sole origin;-all life, all beauty thine.

Thy word created all, and doth create ; Thy splendor fills all space with rays divine.

Thou art, and wert, and shalt be, glorious! great! Light-giving, life-sustaining Potentate!

Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround;
Upheld by thee, by thee inspired with breath.
Thou the beginning with the end hast bound,
And beautifully mingled life and death.
As sparks mount upwards from the fiery blaze,

So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from thee; And, as the spangles in the sunny rays

Shine round the silver snow, the păgeantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in thy praise.

A million torches, lighted by thy hand,

Wander unwearied through the blue abyss:
They own thy power, accomplish thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light?
A glorious company of golden streams?
Lamps of celestial ether burning bright?

Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams?
But thou to these art as the noon to night.

404

YOUNG LADIES' CLASS BOOK.

Yes; as a drop of water in the sea,

All this magnificence in thee is lost:

What are ten thousand worlds compared to thee?
And what am I, then? Heaven's unnumbered host,—
Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed

In all the glory of sublimest thought,-
Is but an atom in the balance, weighed
Against thy greatness; is a cipher brought
Against infinity! Oh! what am I then?-Nought!

Nought! But the effluence of thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too;
Yes; in my spirit doth thy spirit shine,

As shines the sun-beam in a drop of dew.
Nought! But I live, and on hope's pinions fly,
Eager, towards thy presence; for in thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of thy divinity.

I am, O God; and surely thou must be!

Thou art! directing, guiding all, thou art!
Direct my understanding, then, to thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart:
Though but an atom midst immensity,
Still I am something, fashioned by thy hand!
I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth,
On the last verge of mortal being stand,

Close to the realms where angels have their birth,
Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land!

The chain of being is complete in me;

In me is matter's last gradation lost,

And the next step is spirit-Deity!

I can command the lightning, and am dust!

A monarch, and a slave; a worm, a god!

Whence came I here, and how so marvellously
Constructed and conceived? unknown! This clod
Lives surely through some higher energy;
For, from itself alone, it could not be !

Creator, yes; thy wisdom and thy word

Created me! Thou Source of life and good! Thou Spirit of my spirit, and my Lord!

Thy light, thy love, in their bright plenitude,
Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring
Over the abyss of death, and bade it wear
The garments of eternal day, and wing

Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere,
Even to its Source-to thee-its Author, there.

O thoughts ineffable! O visions blessed!

Though worthless our conceptions all of thee,
Yet shall thy shadowed image fill our breast,
And waft its homage to thy Deity.

God, thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar;
Thus seek thy presence, Being wise and good;
Midst thy vast works admire, obey, adore;
And, when the tongue is eloquent no more,
The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude.

LESSON CLXXXI.

Scene from "The Vespers of Palermo :”—Eribert and Constance.-MRS. HEMANS.

Constance. WILL you not hear me?-Oh! that they who need

Hourly forgiveness, they who do but live,

While Mercy's voice, beyond the eternal stars,
Wins the great Judge to listen, should be thus,
In their vain exercise of pageant power,
Hard and relentless!-Gentle brother, yet
'Tis in your choice to imitate that Heaven,
Whose noblest joy is pardon.

Eribert. 'Tis too late.

You have a soft and moving voice, which pleads

With eloquent melody;-but they must die.

Constance. What, die!-for words?—for 'breath, which leaves no trace

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