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But not when the death-prayer is said

The life of life departs;
The body in the grave is laid,

Its beauty in our hearts.
At holy midnight voices sweet

Like fragrance fill the room,
And happy ghosts with noiseless feet

Come bright'ning from the tomb.
We know wbo sends the visions bright,

From whose dear side they came!
We veil our eyes before thy light,

We bless our Saviour's name!
This frame of dust, this feeble breath

The plague may soon destroy;
We think on Thee, and feel in death

A deep and awful joy.
Dim is the light of vanish'd years

In the glory yet to come ;
O idle grief! O foolish tears!

When Jesus calls us home.
Like children for some bauble fair

That weep themselves to rest ;
We part with life-awake! and there

The jewel in our breast !

MAGDALEVES HIYN.

FROM "THE CITY OF THE PLACLE

WILSON,

The air of death breathes through set

The dead all round us lie;
By day and night the death-bell talk,

And says, Prepare to die."
The face that in the morning sun

We thought so wondrous fair,
Hath faded, ere his course was rudy

Beneath its golden hair.
I see the old man in his grave

With thin locks silv'ry-grey;
I see the child's bright tresses ware

In the cold breath of the clay.
The loving ones we lov'd the best,

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THE VILLAGE CLERGYMAN. Near yonder copse, where once the garden smild, And still where many a garden flow'r grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose.

Like music all are gone! And the wan moonlight bathes in rest

Their monumental stone.

ta rady smile a parent's warmth exprest, smile.

in all his serious thoughts had rest in heav'n.

THE SACRED LYRE.

113

fairt came down the trembling wretch to raise, led his last faltr’ing accents whisper'd praise.

At durch with meek and unaffected grace, Eins loks adorn'd the venerable place: tid from his lips prevail'd with double sway, 3d finds who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. de service past, around the pious man, Fish reads zeal each honest rustic ran; J'a chilfiren follow'd with endearing wile,

plack'd his gown, tos hare the good man's Net welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distrest ;

i tam his heart, his love, his griefs were giv'

A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year!
Remote from towns he ran his godly race,
Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place.
Unskilful be to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour ;
Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise ;
His house was known to all the vagrant train,
He chid their wand’rings, but relieved their pain ;
The long-remember'd beggar was his guest,
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ;
The ruin'd spendthrift now no longer proud,
Claim'd kindred there, and had his claim allow'd ;
The broken soldier kindly bade to stay,
Sat by his fire, and talked the night away!
Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were
Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learned to
And quite forgot their vices in their woe; [gloww,
Careless their merits or their faults to scan,
His pity gave, e'er charity began.

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And ev'n his failings lean'd on virtue's side ;
But in his duty prompt at ev'ry call,
He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all.
And, as a bird, each fond endearment tries,
To tempt his new fledg'd offspring to the skies ;
He try'd each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd:
The rey’rend champion stood.

At his control, Despair and anguish fled the trembling soul;

memut tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, i relas from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, les round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, kemal sunshine settles on its head.

won.

GOLDSMITH.

PROVIDENCE

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,

And works His sov'reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ;

The clouds, se so much dread,
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

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Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of water de
Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how helt

Thus to relieve the wretched Tras his perit
And ey'n his failings lean'd on virter's site

Beside the bed where parting life was hi
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns disana

He watch'd and wept, he prar'd and felt

He try'd each art, repror'd each dull dels

The rev'rend champion stood. At his ce

Å man he was to all the country deur
And passing rich with forty pounds a
Remote from towns be ran bis gadiy rey
Nor e’er bad chang'd, nor wish'd to change ting
L'nskilful be to fawn, or seek for pusat
By doctrines fashion'd to the varying ba
Far other aims his heart had learo'd to free
More bent to raise the wretched than he is
His house was known to all the ratast 03

Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltr'ing accents wbisper'd praise.

At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorn'd the venerable place:
Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,
And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal each honest rustic ran;
Ev'n children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, tos hare the good man's
His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest, (smile.
Their welfare pleas’d him, and their cares distrest ;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were giv’n,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heav'n.
As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

The long-remember'd beggar was his gues
The ruin'd spendthritt now no longer per
Claim'd kindred there, and had his chaise
The broken soldier kindly bade to star,
Sat by his fire, and talked the night a ry

won.

GOLDSMITH.

Pleas'd with his guests, the good man
And quite forgot their vices in their at
Careless their merits or their faults to see
His pity gave, e'er charity beyan.

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But in his duty prompt at ev'ry call,
And, as a bird, each fond endearment trie
To tempt his new fedg'd offspring to the use
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way

PROVIDENCE.
God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,

And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,

And works His sov’reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take ;

The clouds, ye so much dread,
Are big with mercy and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Despair and anguish fled the trembling sa

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THE SACRED LYRE

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But rrust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flow'r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan His works in vain; God is his own interpreter,

And he will make it plain.

Jugare to profit, shame, or fear,
0
Dr my

steadfast bosom bear
The stamp of hear'n, an honest heart,
ddete the mean disguise of art.
May bay expanded soul disdain
ile Latrop view, the selfish aim;
Pat with a Christian zeal embrace
Plate'er is friendly to my race.
O Father! grace and virtue grant!
Se more I wish, no more

I want:
Te kooff, to serve thee, and to love,
Le peace below, is bliss above.

HENRY MOORE.

COWPER.

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MORNING.

Kas day-light breaks, and sheds his rays

abroad,

As the sweet lower turns to the sun below,

WISDOM AND VIRTUE SOUGHT FROM GOD.

SUPREME and universal Light! Fountain of reason ! Judge of right! Parent of good! whose blessings flow On all above, and all below: Without whose kind directing ray, In everlasting night we stray, From passion still to passion tost, And in a maze of error lost; Assist me, Lord, to act, to be, What nature and thy laws decree; Worthy that intellectual fame Which from thy breathing Spirit came. My mortal freedom to maintain, Bid passion serve, and reason reign, Self-pois'd, and independent still On this world's varying good or ill.

fiess flow. 0! let not nature's praises soar on high, Exe thy lips open with its morning pray’r; Let tas the larks shrill music fill the sky,

Ete thy heart lifts its aspirations there; men det the dawn of morn thy orisons declare. Men is the time, to see thy pray’rs begun;

birth;

and the grave open'd with the morning sun, Fiben man's redemption was complete on earth ;

Judge not the Lord by feeble seat.

But trust Him for His grae;
Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast

Unfolding ev'ry hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste

But sweet will be the flow'.
Blind unbelief is sure to ert,

And scan His works in rain;
God is his own interpreter,

And he will make it plain.

No slave to profit, shame, or fear,
O may my steadfast bosom bear
The stamp of heav'n, an honest heart,
Above the mean disguise of art.
May my expanded soul disdain
The narrow view, the selfish aim;
But with a Christian zeal embrace
Whate'er is friendly to my race.
O Father ! grace and virtue grant!
No more I wish, no more I want:
To know, to serve thee, and to love,
Is peace below, is bliss above.

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HENRY MOORE.

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Febr 1940

WISDOM AND VIRTUE SOUGHT FEON

SUPREME and universal Light!
Fountain of reason ! Judge of right!
Parent of good! whose blessings for
On all above, and all below:
Without whose kind directing ta's
In everlasting night we stray,
From passion still to passion tost,
And in a maze of error lost;
Assist me, Lord, to act, to be,
What nature and thy laws decret;
Worthy that intellectual flame
Which from thy breathing Spirit o
My mortal freedom to maintain,
Bid passion serve, and reason reigu

, Self-pois’d, and independent still On this world's varying good or ille

MORNING.
When day-light breaks, and sheds his rays

abroad,
Turn from the splendour of his sunny glow;
Let thy soul leave the earth, and soar to God,

As the sweet flower turns to the sun below,
And drinks the blessed rays which from his bright-

ness flow.
Oh ! let not nature's praises soar on high,

Ere thy lips open with its morning pray’s ;
Let not the larks shrill music fill the sky,

Ere thy heart lifts its aspirations there ;
But let the dawn of morn thy orisons declare.
Morn is the time, to see thy pray’rs begun ;
For morning hymn'd the young Creation's

birth;
And the grave open'd with the morning sun,
When man's redemption was complete on earth ;

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