But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring; Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone- BISHOP HEBER. Born 1783. Died 1826. WHEN HYMN TO THE SEASONS. WHEN Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil; When Summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil; When Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood ;In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns his Maker good. The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade; Shall Man, the lord of Nature, expectant of the sky, The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade, HTEST and best of the sons of the morning! Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining, Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all! Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gifts would His favour secure, Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! FROM BISHOP HEBER'S JOURNAL. IF F thou wert by my side, my love, If thou, my love, wert by my side, How gaily would our pinnace glide I miss thee at the dawning gray, I miss thee when by Gunga's stream But most beneath the lamp's pale beam I spread my books, my pencil try, But when of morn or eve the star I feel, though thou art distant far, Then on then on! where duty leads, O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads, That course, nor Delhi's kingly gates, Nor wild Malwah detain : For sweet the bliss us both awaits By yonder western main. Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, But ne'er were hearts so light and gay As then shall meet in thee! EPIPHANY. RIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning! BRIG Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid, Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining, Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all! Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, Vainly we offer each ample oblation, Vainly with gifts would His favour secure, Richer by far is the heart's adoration, Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor. Brightest and best of the sons of the morning! Star of the East, the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! |