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Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,

From every host, from every gem; But one alone the Saviour speaks,

It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud,--the night was dark, The ocean yawn'd-and rudely blow'd

The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.

Deep horror then my vitals froze,

Death-struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,

It was the Star of Bethlehem,

It was my guide, my light, my all,

It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and dangers' thrall,

It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moord-my perils o'er,

I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
For ever and for evermore,

The Star!the Star of Bethlehem !

H. K. WHITE.

HYMN ON THE SEASONS.

These, as they change, Almighty Father ! these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love:
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And ev'ry sense and ev'ry heart is joy.
Then comes Thy glory in the summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year ;
And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks;
And oft at morn, deep noon, or falling eve,
By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales.
Thy bounty shines in autumn unconfin'd,
And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
In winter, awful Thou! with clouds and stormas
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rollid,
Majestic darkness ! On the whirlwinds wing,
Riding sublime, Thou bidst the world adore;
And humblest nature with Thy nothern blast,

Mysterious round! what skill, what force divine,
Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train,
Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art,
Such beauty and beneficence combin'd;
Shade, unperceivd, so soft'ning into shade,
And all so forming an harmonious whole,
That as they still succeed, they ravish still.

But wand'ring oft, with brute unconscious gaze,
Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty hand,
That, ever busy, wheels the silent spheres ;
Works in the secret deep; shoots, steaming, thence
The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring ;
Flings from the sun direct the flaming day;
Feeds every creature ; hurls the tempest forth ;
And, as on earth this grateful change revolves,
With transport touches all the springs of life.

Nature, attend ! join ev'ry living soul,
· Beneath the spacious temple of the sky,
In adoration join ! and, ardent, raise
One general song! To Him ye vocal gales,
Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes;
Oh talk of Him in solitary glooms,
Where, o'er the rock, the scarcely-waving pine
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.

And ye, whose bolder note is heard afar,
Who shake th' astonish'd world, lift high to heaven
Th’impetuous song,

from whom you rage
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills;
And let me catch it as I muse along.
Ye headlong torrents, rapid, and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound His stupendous praise; whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him; whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints.
Ye forests, bend, ye harvests, wave, to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.

and say

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