The forests fell before its force,
The rocks were shivered by its course;
God rode not in the blast-
'Twas but the whirlwind of His breath,
Announcing danger, wreck, and death.
It ceased-the air was mute-a cloud
Came hiding up the sun,
When through the mountains deep and loud,
An earthquake thundered on:
The frighted eagle sprang in air,
The wolf ran howling from his lair ;
God was not in the storm-
'Twas but the rolling of His car,
The trampling of His steeds from far.
'Twas still again, and nature stood,
And calm'd her ruffled frame;
When swift from heaven a fiery flood,
To earth devouring came :
Down to the depths the ocean fled,
The sick'ning sun look'd wan and dead,
Yet God fill'd not the flame;
'Twas but the fierceness of His eye,
That lighted through the troubled sky.
At last a voice, all still and small,
Rose sweetly on the ear,
Yet rose so clear and shrill, that all
In heaven and earth might hear :
It spoke of peace, it spoke of love,
It spoke as angels speak above,
And God Himself was near!
For O! it was a Father's voice,
That bade His trembling world rejoice.
Speak, gracious Lord, speak ever thus,
And let Thy terrors prove
But harbingers of peace to us,
But heralds of Thy love!
Come through the earthquake, fire, and storm, Come in Thy mildest, sweetest form,
And all our fears remove;
One word from Thee is all we claim-
Be that one word, a Saviour's name !
It seems, as if the summer sky
Assumed a purer blue;
It seems, as if the flowret's dye
Put on a brighter hue;
A loveliness, so soft, so fair,
Pervades the earth, the sea, the air;
Peace dwells below, and all above
Bespeaks the reign of heavenly Love.
Within the cot, within the tower,
Wherever we may roam;
In city, field, or summer bower,
How sweet is every home!
Love and Religion, mingling there,
Make all alike around it fair:
Oh, this is love, surpassing far,
What all mere earthly passions are.
Such is the love that reigns around,
In palace, hall, or cot,
The looks that beam, the words that sound,
The joy that decks the spot :
The hymn floats softly through the vale,
The scent of flowers is in the gale,
Combining joy and summer sun,
Perfume and music, all in one.
If heaven has ever shone below,
Its dawning now appears;
We seem to catch the morning glow,
From those celestial spheres ;
This is the time so long foreseen,
When ages roll their years between ;
Oh, may it be an endless reign,
Nor earth know other rule again!
REFLECTIONS ON RETIRING TO REST.
It is good, when we lay on the pillow our head, And the silence of night all around us is spread,
To reflect on the deeds we have done thro' the day,
Nor allow it to pass, without profit, away.
A day--what a trifle !—and yet the amount
Of the days we have pass'd form an awful account :
And the time may arrive when the world we would give,
Were it ours, might we have but another to live.
In whose service have we through the day been employ'd,
And what are the pleasures we mostly enjoyed?
Our desires and our wishes to what did they tend-
To the world we are in, or the world without end?
Hath the sense of His presence encompass'd us round,
Without whom not a sparrow can fall to the ground?
Have our hearts turn'd to Him with devotion most true,
Or been occupied only with things that we view?
Have we often reflected how soon we must go
To the mansions of bliss, or the regions of woe?
Have we felt unto God a repentance sincere,
And in faith to the Saviour of sinners drawn near?
Let us thus with ourselves solemn conference hold,
Ere sleep's silken fetters our senses enfold;
And forgiveness implore for the sins of the day,
Nor allow them to pass unrepented away.
DEATH OF A YOUNG CHRISTIAN.
O GRIEVE not for him with the wildness of sorrow,
As those who in hopeless despondency weep:
From God's holy word consolation we borrow,
For souls who in Jesus confidingly sleep.
Lament not your lov'd one, but triumph the rather
To think of the promise, the prayer of the Lamb; "Your joy shall be full," and "I will, oh, My Father! That those whom Thou giv'st me may be where I am." Nay, weep not for him-for the flower of the morningSo dear to your bosom, so fair in your eyes;
But weep for the souls unbelievingly scorning
The counsel and truth of the "God only wise,"
He came to the cross when his young cheek was blooming,
And rais'd to the Lord the bright beam of his eye;
And when o'er its beauty death's darkness was glooming,
The cross did uphold him, the Saviour was nigh.
I saw the black pall o'er his relics extended,
I wept, but they were not the tear-drops of woe : The pray'r of my soul that in fervour ascended,
Was, "Lord, when Thou callest, like him may I go !"
THE LAND WHICH NO MORTAL MAY KNOW. BARTON.
THOUGH earth has full many a beautiful spot,
As a poet or painter might show;
Yet more lovely and beautiful, holy and bright,
To the hopes of the heart, and the spirit's glad sight,
Is the land which no mortal may know.
There the crystalline stream, bursting forth from the throne,
Flows on, and for ever will flow;
Its waves, as they roll, are with melody rife,
And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life,
In the land which no mortal may know.
Oh! who but must pine, in this dark vale of tears,
From its clouds and its shadows to go,
To walk in the light of the glory above,
And to share in the peace, and the joy, and the love
Of the land which no mortal may know!
CHRISTIAN WARFARE.
CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH.
SOLDIER, go-but not to claim
Mouldering spoils of earth-born treasure,
Not to build a vaunting name,
Not to dwell in tents of pleasure.
Dream not that the way is smooth,
Hope not that the thorns are roses;
Turn no wistful eye of youth,
Where the sunny beam reposes;
Thou hast sterner work to do,
Hosts to cut thy passage through :
Close behind thee gulfs are burning—
Forward!-there is no returning.
Soldier, rest!-but not for thee
Spreads the world her downy pillow;
On the rock thy couch must be,
While around thee chafes the billow:
Thine must be a watchful sleep,
Wearier than another's waking;
Such a charge as thou dost keep
Brooks no moment of forsaking.
Sleep, as on the battle-field,
Girded-grasping sword and shield:
Those thou canst not name or number,
Steal upon thy broken slumber.
Soldier, rise-the war is done :
Lo, the hosts of hell are flying,
'Twas thy Lord the battle won;
Jesus vanquished them by dying.
Pass the stream-before thee lies
All the conquered land of glory;
Hark! what songs of rapture rise,
These proclaim the victor's story,
Soldier, lay thy weapons down,
Quit the sword, and take the crown;
Triumph! all thy foes are banished,
Death is slain, and earth has vanished.
O WHY are the loud harps of seraphs resounding,
Sweet music of joy through the bright realms above?
And the choir of the ransom'd in transport responding
New anthems of praise to the God of their love?
And why do they stoop from the scene of their gladness,
Where round the blest throne of the Lamb they recline?
And what can they trace in this dark vale of sadness,
To heighten a rapture already divine?
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