But half of our heavy task was done,

When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.

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-
But we left him alone with his glory.

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;
The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade;
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way,
The moon and stars, their Master's name in silent pomp display.

Shall Man, the lord of Nature, expectant of the sky,
Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny?
No; let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be,
Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, honour Thee.

The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade,
The Autumn droop in Winter, the birds forsake the shade ;
The winds be lulled, the sun and moon forget their old decree,—
But we, in Nature's latest hour, O Lord! will cling to Thee.

HTEST and best of the sons of the morning!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid,
I of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining,
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall:
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining-

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and offerings divine-
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

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!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid,

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,
How fast would evening fail
In green Bengala's palmy grove,
Listening the nightingale !

If thou, my love, wert by my side,
My babies at my knee,

How gaily would our pinnace glide
O'er Gunga's mimic sea!

I miss thee at the dawning gray,
When on our deck reclined,
In careless ease my limbs I lay,
And woo the cooler wind.

I miss thee when by Gunga's stream
My twilight steps I guide,

But most beneath the lamp's pale beam
I miss thee from my side.

I spread my books, my pencil try,
The lingering noon to cheer,
But miss thy kind approving eye,
Thy meek attentive ear.

But when of morn or eve the star
Beholds me on my knee,

I feel, though thou art distant far,
Thy prayers ascend for me.

Then on then on! where duty leads,
My course be onward still;

O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads,
O'er bleak Almorah's hill.

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,
Across the dark-blue sea;

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,
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall:
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining-

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and offerings divine—
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

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!
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid,

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!