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Till are dried the martyr's tears,
Rev. G, Cnoly.
AWAKE, SWEET HARP.
Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake,
When God's right arm is bared for war,
the horrors of his ire?
'Tis he, the Lamb, to him we fly,
Thus while we dwell in this low scene,
While yet we sojourn here below, Pollutions still our hearts o'erflow; Fall'n, abject, mean, a sentenced race, We deeply need a hiding-place,
Yet courage-days and years will glide,
Then pure, immortal, sinless, freed,
H. K. WHITE.
FALL OF THE LEAF.:
See the leaves around us falling,
Dry and wither'd to the ground;
In a sad and solemn sound.
Sons of Adam, once in Eden,
Blighted whence, like us, ye fell :
'Tiş, alas! the truth we tell.
Virgins, much, too much presuming
On your boasted white and red ; View us, late in beauty blooming,
Number'd now among the dead.
Griping misers, nightly waking,
See the end of all your care: Fled on wings of our own making,
We have left our owners bare.
Sons of honour, fed on praises,
Flutt'ring high in fancied worth Lo the fickle air that raises,
Brings us down to parent-earth.
Learned sophs, in systems jaded,,
Who for new ones daily call; Cease at length, by us persuaded,
Every leaf must have it's fall,
Youths, though yet no losses grieve you,
Gay in health and manly grace; Let not cloudless skies deceive you,
Summer gives to Autumn place.
Venerable sires, grown hoary,
Hither turn th' unwilling eye; Think, amidst your falling glory,
Autumn tells a Winter nigh,
Yearly in our course returning,
Messengers of shortest stay; Thus we preach this truth concerning,
"Heaven and earth shall pass away."
On the tree of life eternal,
Man, let all thy hopes be stayed ; Which, alone, for ever vernal,
Bears a "leaf that shall not fade."