CHRIST IN THE TEMPEST. "AND HE AROSE AND REBUKED THE WIND, AND SAID UNTO THE SEA, PEACE, BE STILL. NIGHT mantles Judea but the star has not shone On thy bosom, Galilee,— The tempest is loud, yet the barque alone Is labouring o'er the sea: The Master, entranced, rides the turbulent wave, O say, shall its depths yield the Godhead a grave? Heeds not the Redeemer the thunder's increase? By his waves and his tempest the Maker is tost; The disciples in terror have sprung from their rest, Yet vain is the shipmen's skill, Till aroused He of Nazareth proclaims the behest: "Ye billows, peace, be still!" The billows obedient have sunk on the shore, O thus, when my soul on life's ocean is tost, When faith shines but dimly each hope is lost, When the waves of remembrance in mountain wreaths roll, When the billows of sin have gone over my soul: At the Cross of the Sufferer while humbled to weep, Do thou, in compassion, rebuke the deep The billows obedient will die on the shore, The sea sleep in murmurs, the tempest be o'er. 'TIS WELL THAT YE REJECT THE CUP. "TIs well that ye reject the cup Whose dregs are poison all; Nor round your hearth the beverage sup, The foaming draught ye dash away Could ye the thousands check, who stray O God! the generous youth to see, O God! the maniac-tribe to know, Sword, flesh thy yet unsated blade; In death, its thousands more. Yet shall that chalice trophies boast, Beware! nor yonder goblet grasp, Though pearls of price 'twere thine to clasp, The purple juice mantling aright, That far its fragrance flings Avoid it 'tis to reason's sight DEATH OF THE PATRIOTS, JOHN ADAMS AND THE trump of war rings loudly, yet They pause! that band-it is not fear O, no! the high and resolved are here, They shrink not from the unequal fray, And yet, O heaven! to thrust away Now cheer ye! cheer ye to the strife! To arms! to arms! the combat's rife, Years that have flown, ye gave to birth Deeds of the lofty Brave; A nation free among the earth, Sits queen on Slavery's grave. And those renowned, her Men of might, That battled, toiled, and bled, Have gone in the ray of Victory's light To join the martyr-dead. Blest is their lot, no common mould Thus hallowed your Proud Day, Yea, while our anthems rolled afar, Released, ye wait in flesh not now O, God, 'tis lofty thus to bow, 'Tis glorious thus to fall. TOUCH not that gift! it is hallowed to feeling, Lay it, ye worthy, with hearts proudly beating, He has fled in his griefs, even now to that spirit, Ye unrevealed ages! eternize the glory, * Occasioned by the proposition that the Jefferson Fund should, in consequence of the death of the patriot, be appropriated to other than the original design of liquidating his debts. |