O Nature! wheresoe'er thou art,
Some latent worship still is there;
Blush ye! whose form without a heart,
The Idiot's plea can never share!

Poor guileless thing! just eighteen years,
Parental cares had rear'd alone;

Then, (lest thou e'er should'st want those cares,)
Heaven took thee spotless to its own.

Full many a watching eye of love

Thy sickness and thy death did cheer;
And reason, while she joys, approves
The instinct of a parent's tear.

Poor guileless thing! forgot by men,
The heaving turf directs to thee;
""Tis all thou art" to mortal ken,
But Faith beyond the tomb can see.

For what a burst of mind shall glow,
When disencumber'd from this clod;
Thou, who on earth could'st nothing know,
Shalt rise to comprehend thy GOD!

Oh! could thy spirit teach us now,
Full many a truth the gay might learn;
The value of a blameless life

Full many a scorner might discern.

Yes! they might learn who waste their time,
What it must be to know no sin:
They who pollute the soul's sweet prime,
What, to be spotless pure within.

Go! then, and seek her humble grave,
All ye who sport in Folly's ray,
And as the gale the grass shall wave,
List to a voice that seems to say:

""Tis not the measure of your powers,
To which the eternal meed is given:
'Tis wasted or improved hours,

Which forfeit, or secure your heaven!"

The following affecting Hymn on the last judgment, was used in the Church long before the reformation: and the pious Christian will be pleased to find in it some of the most essential and comfortable tenets of the Gospel.

......

The translation, by Lord RosсOMMON, is annexed.

Dies iræ, dies illa,

Solvet sæclum in favilla,
Teste Petro et Sibylla.

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando Judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus?

Tuba mirum spargens sonum,
Per sepulchra regionum,
Coget omnes ante thronum.

Mors stupebit et natura,
Cum resurget creatura,
Judicanti responsura.
Liber scriptus proferetur,
In quo totum continetur,
Unde mundus judicetur.

Judex ergo cum sedebit;
Quidquid latet, apparebit,
Nil inultum remanebit.

Quid sum, miser, tum dicturus?
Quem Patronum rogaturus?
Cum vix justus sit securus.
Rex tremendæ majestatis,
Qui salvando salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis.

Recordare, Jesu Pie,
Quod sum causa tuæ viæ,
Ne me perdas illa die.

Quærens me sedisti lassus,
Redimisti crucem passus:
Tantus labor non sit cassus!

Juste Judex ultionis,
Donum fuc remissionis,
Ante diem rationis.
Ingemisco tanquam reus;
Culpa rubet vultus meus,
Deprecanti parce Deus;

Qui Mariam absolvisti,
Et Latronum exaudisti,
Mihi quoque spem dedisti.

Presces meæ non sunt dignæ,
Sed Tu, Bone, fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremer igne.

Inter oves locum præsta,
Et ab hædis me sequestra,
Statuens in parte dextra.

Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis,
Voca me cum benedictis.

Ut Consors beatitatis,
Vivam cum justificatis,
In ævum eternitatis.

Oro supplex et acclinis,
Cor contritum, quasi cinis,
Geri curam mei finis.

TRANSLATION.

The day of wrath, that dreadful day,
Shall the whole earth in ashes lay,
As Peter and the Sibyls say.

What horrour will invade the mind,

When the strict Judge, who would be kind,
Shall have few venial faults to find!

VOL. I.-No. I.

2 B

The last loud trumpet's wond'rous sound,
Shall through the rending tombs rebound,
And wake the nations under ground.

Nature and Death shall, with surprise,
Behold the pale offender rise,

And view the Judge with conscious eyes.

Then shall, with universal dread,
The sacred mystick roll be read,
To try the living and the dead.
The Judge ascends his awful throne,
He makes each secret sin be known,
And all, with shame, confess their own.
Oh! then, what int'rest can I make,
To save my last important stake,
When the most just have cause to quake”

Thou, mighty, formidable King!
Thou, mercy's unexhausted spring,
Some comfortable pity bring!

Forget not what my ransom cost,
Nor let my dear-bought soul be lost,
In storms of guilty terrour tost.

Thou, who for me didst feel such pain,
Whose precious blood the cross did stain,
Let not those agonies be vain!

Thou, whom avenging pow'rs obey,
Cancel my debt, too great to pay,
Before the sad accounting day.
Surrounded with amazing fears,
Whose load my soul with anguish bears,
I sigh, I weep-accept my tears.

Thou, who wast moved by Mary's grief,

And by th' absolving of the thief

Hast giv'n me hope; Oh! give relief.

Reject not my unworthy pray'r,

Preserve me from the dangerous snare,
Which death and gaping hell prepare.

Give my exalted soul a place

Among the chosen right-hand race,-
The sons of God and heirs of grace.

From that insatiable abyss,

Where flames devour and serpents hiss,

Promote me to thy seat of bliss!

Prostrate, my contrite heart I rend:

My God, my Father, and my Friend!

Do not forsake me in my end.

Well may they curse their second breath,

Who rise to a reviving death.

Thou great Creator of mankind,

Let guilty man compassion find.

My transient hour, my little day,
Is speeding fast, how fast! away;
Already hath my summer sun
Half its race of brightness run.
Ah me! I hear the wintry blast,
My "Life of Life" will soon be past;
The flush of youth will all be o'er,
The throb of joy will throb no more.
And fancy, mistress of my lyre,
Will cease to lend her sacred fire.
My trembling heart-prepare, prepare
For skies of gloom, and thoughts of care.
Sorrows and wants will make thee weep,
And fears of age will o'er thee creep.
Health that smiled in blooming pride,
Will cease to warm thy sluggish tide.
The shaft of pain, the point of wo,
Will bid the current cease to flow.
And who, alas! shall then be nigh,
To sooth me with affection's sigh?
To press my feeble hand in their's,
To plead for me in silent prayers,
And cheer me with those hopes that shed
Rapture o'er a dying bed.

Days of the future, cease to roll
Upon my wild affrighted soul.
Mysterious fate, I will not look

Within thy dark eventful book;
Enough for me to feel and know,
That love and hope must shortly go;
That joy will vanish, fancy fly,

And death dissolve the closest tie.

E'en now while moans my pensive rhyme,

I list the warning voice of time;

And, oh! this sigh, this start of fear!
Tells me the night will soon be here.

“ Wisdom is the principal thing, therefore get Wisdom; and with all thy getting, get Understanding." PROVERBS, ch. iv. ver. 7.

Of all that live, and move, and breathe,
Man only rises o'er his birth;

He looks above, around, beneath,

At once the heir of heaven and earth:
Force, cunning, speed, which nature gave
The various tribes throughout her plan,
Life to enjoy, from death to save,

-These are the lowest powers of man.
From strength to strength he travels on,
He leaves the lingering brute behind;
And when a few short years are gone,
He soars a disembodied mind:
Beyond the grave, with hope sublime,
Destined a nobler course to run,
In his career the end of time
Is but eternity begun!

What guides him in his high pursuit,
Opens, illumines, cheers his way,

Discerns the Immortal from the brute,
God's image from the mould of clay?
"Tis knowledge:-Knowledge to the soul
Is power, and liberty, and peace;
And while celestial ages roll,

The joys of knowledge shall increase.
Hail to the glorious plan! that spread
This light with universal beams,
And through the human desert led
Truth's living, pure, perpetual streams.
-Behold a new creation rise,

New spirit breathed into the clod,
Where'er the voice of Wisdom cries,
"Man, know thyself, and fear thy GOD!"

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY.

Luke ii.

ABASH'D be all the boast of age!
Be hoary Learning dumb!
Expounder of the mystick page,
Behold an Infant come!

Oh, Wisdom! whose coequal power
Before the Almighty stood,
To frame in Nature's earliest hour,
The land, the sky, the flood;

Yet didst thou not disdain a while
An infant form to wear;
To bless thy mother with a smile,
And lisp thy falter'd prayer:

But, in thy Father's own abode,
With Israel's elders round,
In converse high with Israel's GOD,
Thy chiefest joy was found.

So may our youth adore thy name!
And, Teacher, deign to bless
With fostering grace the timid flame
Of early holiness!