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Tremble, ye pageants of a day,
CHRIST A PRIEST.

Form'd like your slaves of brittle clay,

Down to the dust your sceptres bend:
COLLYER.

To everlasting years he reigns,
O THOU, who once didst wander here, And undiminish'd pomp maintains,
A pilgrim's weary way;

When kings, and suns, and time shall end. No stranger thou, to every fear

That shakes th' inhabitant of clay; So shall bis favour'd Zion live ; For sorrow's stormy cloud its torrent shed, lo vain confed'rate nations strive And aim'd its thunders at thy guiltless head. Her sacred turrets to destroy ;

Her sov'reign sits enthrop'd above, The thorns that pierc'd thy bleeding brow, And endless pow'r, and endless love

Wound, as I pass, my pilgrim feet; Ensure her safety, and her joy.

CHRIST THE HEAD OF SAINTS AND ANGELS.

DOD DRIDGE.

HAIL! great Immanuel, ever honour'd name !
Spread it, ye angels, through heavens sacred frame :
Ye sceptred cherubim before his throne,

And flaming seraphim, bow humbly down:
He is your Head ; with prostrate awe adore bim,
And lay, with joy, your radiant crowns before him.

Array'd in his refulgent beams ye shine,
And draw existence from his source divine ;
Grateful, ye wait the signal of his band,

Pleas'd to obey your Sov'reign's high command;
In Him the indwelling Deity admiring,
To bear his brighter image, still aspiring.

Mortals with you in cheerful homage join,-
Their sweetest songs of praise with yours combine :
Mean as we are, with griefs and sins beset,

We glory that in him we stand complete :
He is our Head, and we with you adore him,
Aud pour oor wants, our joys, our hearts before him.

CHRIST A SHEPHERD.

CRASHAW.

HAPPY me! O happy sheep!
Whom my Shepherd deigns to keep;
Even my God, even he it is
That points me to these paths of bliss;
On whose pastares, cheerful spring
All the year doth sit and sing,
And rejoicing smiles to see
Their green backs wear bis livery:
Pleasure sings my soul to rest,
Plenty wears me at her breast,
At my feet the murm'ring stream
Makes high noon forget his beam.
When my foolish weakness strays,
Tangled in forbidden ways,
He, my Shepherd is my guide,
He's before me, on my side,
And behind me; he beguiles
Craft in all her knotty wiles;
Spreads beneath my steps a way
Clear as summer's brightest day;
While my spirit tunes new lays
To my faithful Shepherd's praise.

Come now all ye terrors, sally,
Muster forth into the valley,
Where triumphant darkness hovers
With a sable wing that covers
Brooding horror. Come thou death
Let the damps of thy dull breath
Overshadow even the shade,
And make darkness' self afraid.
There my feet, even there, shall find
Way for a resolved mind!
Still my Shepherd, still my God
Tbon art with me, still thy rod,
And thy staff, whose influence
Gives direction, gives defence.
At the whisper of thy word,
Crown'd abundance spreads my board:
While I feast, my foes do feed
Their rank malice not their need,
So that with the self-same bread
They are starv'd and I am fed.
How my head in ointment swims!
How my cup o'erlooks her brims!
So, even so still may I move
By the line of thy dear love;

Still may thy sweet mercy spread | A shady arm above my head,

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RELIGION.

TO RELIGION.

CLARE.

Thou sacred light, that right from wrong discerns ;

Thou safeguard of the soul, thou heaven on earth;
Thou undervaluer of the world's concerns,

Thou disregarder of its joys and mirth ;
Thou only home the houseless wanderers have;

Thou prop by which the pilgrim's woes are borne;
Thou solace of the lonely hermit's cave,

That beds him down to rest on fate's sharp thoru;
Thou only hope to sorrow's bosom given,

Thou voice of mercy when the weary call;
Thou faith extending to thy home in heaven;

Thou peace, thou rest, thou comfort, all in all :
O sov'reign good l on thee all hopes depend,
Till thy grand source unfolds its realizing end.

A RECEIPT FOR HAPPINESS. | Lol in the mantling bowl sweet poisons

flow; A NON.

Love's softest pleasures terminate in wo; TRAVERSE the world, go fly from pole to Even learning ends her vast career in doubt, pole,

And puzzling on makes nothing clearly out: Go far as winds can blow or waters roll, Where then is sov'reign bliss? Where doth All, all is vanity, beneath the sun,

it grow? To certain death through diff'rent paths we know, mortal! happiness ne'er dwelt berun.

low. See the pale miser poring o'er his gold; Look towards Heav'n, be Heav'n thy only See there a galley-slave to misery sold ! care; Ambition's vot'ries groan beneath its weight, Spurn the vile earth-go seek thy treasure The splendid victim of the toils of state.

there.

TRUE AND FALSE GAIETY. I question'd FRIENDSHIP: FRIENDSHIP

sigh'd, COW PER.

And thus her answer gaveWhom call we gay? That honour has loog | The few whom fortune never torn'd been

Were wither'd in the grave !
The boast of mere pretenders to the name.
The innocent are gay-the lark is gay, I ask'd if Vice could bliss bestow ?
That dries his feathers, saturate with dew, Vice boasted loud and well,
Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams But fading from her wither'd brow,
Of dayspring overshoot his humble nest. The borrowed roses fell.
The peasant too, a witness of his song,
Himself a songster, is as gay as he. | I sought of FEELING, if her skill
But save me from the gaiety of those

Could soothe the wounded breast; Whose headachs nail them to a noonday bed; And found her mourning, faint, and still, And save me tow from theirs, whose hag-| For others' woes distress'd!

gard eyes
Flash desperation, and betray their pangs, | I question'd VIRTUE: Virtue sigb'd,
For property stripp'd off by cruel chance ;

No boon could she dispense .
From gaiety, that fills the bones with pain, Nor virtue was her name, sbe cried,
The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with But humble penitence.
wo.

I question'd Death-the grisly sbade

Relax'd his brow severe
And “ I AM HAPPINESS,” he said,

If virtue guides thee here." HAPPINESS NOT EARTHLY.

HEBER.

THE WAY TO HAPPINESS.

One morning in the month of May

I wander'd o'er the bill;
Tho' nature all around was gay,

My heart was beavy still.

PARNBLL.

Can God, I thought, the just, the great,

These meaner creatores bless, And yet deny to man's estate

The boon of happiness?

Tell me, ye woods, ye smiling plains,

Ye blessed birds around,
In which of nature's wide domains

Can bliss for man be fonnd !

How long, ye miserably blind,
Shall idle dreams engage your mind;
How long the passions make their flight
At empty shadows of delight,
No more in paths of error stray,
The Lord, thy Jesus is the way,
The spring of happiness, and where
Should men seek happiness but there?
Then run to meet him at your need,
Run with boldness, run with speed,
For he forsook his own abode
To meet thee more than half the road.
He laid aside his radiant crown,
And love for mankind brooght him down
To thirst and bunger, pain and wo,
To wounds, to death itself below;
And he that suffered these alone
For all the world, despises none.
To bid the soul that's sick, be clean,
To bring the lost to life again ;

The birds wild caroll'd over head,

The breeze around me blew, And nature's awful chorus said

No bliss for man she knew.

I question'd Love, whose early ray

So rosy bright appears,
And heard the timid genius say

His light was dimm'd by tears.

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