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The yearning bosom, whose sighs are pour'd
"We go, though the journey be long and sad,
But our God hath spoken-we trust his word,
"He will guide us onward, whose mighty hand Scattered cloud and blight over Egypt's land; Whose glance unobstructed surveyed it round, When fire and hail smote the desert ground;
When the locusts swept through the upper sky, And drave the light from their course on high; When they sank, like poison, to blast the spring, To destroy each tender and vernal thing.
"He will bear us on! We shall rest at last, And, in peace, look back on our journey passed; Upon perils averted, on blessings shed,
Like dews of eve on the mountain's head;
"We will praise his name, in that goodly land, Where tend the steps of this lengthened band; Where the pomegranate ripens, and strays the vine, Where the olive-leaves bloom in the bright sunshine;
Where the voices of waters and waving trees Are rich on the fragrant and blessed breeze: That promised land as a type is given
Of the regions of glory and life in heaven!” W. G. C.
THE CELEBRATION OF SPRING.*
The following article is a translation from the German by Mr. Herman Bokum, Professor of the German language in the University of Pennsylvania. It is from a work singularly entitled "The Sound of the Bell." This work consists of the musings of a young clergyman, and is characterized throughout by the enthusiasm of the German writers. It is written in a style of high devotional fervour. We have been permitted to make use of one of the chapters, for which we return thanks to the translator.-ED.
I FOUND it impossible to stay any longer at home. The vernal sun threw its rays upon my writing
*The Celebration of Spring owes its formal existence, in a great degree, to the social relations of Germany; it is by no means a day that has been set apart for this purpose by ecclesiastical authority. It would be wrong, however, to imagine, that the silent institution of these festivals was occasioned solely by the social and communicative spirit of the people. Germany is favoured with a climate in which sudden changes are not very frequent; and in general the different seasons announce themselves in a very regular manner. Its inhabitants, therefore, feel more inclined to celebrate their return.Trans.
table. The nightingale sang in the garden. All the splendour of spring, in sounds and colours, floated around me, whilst I was engaged in writing my first sermon for this season. It was Saturdayeve, when the heart of a pastor always beats in livelier pulsations, and is filled with hallowed emotions, which rouse in him noble resolutions and a hope full of immortality. Never before, however, had my feelings been so powerful on a Saturday-eve. Early in the morning I had arisen and commenced my sermon with prayer. thousand times I had proferred a welcome to the spring, and again returned to my seat to write a word of celebration. Once more I rose from my table, and took up the psalms, and many a hymn, which celebrated the spring. From one side of the house I looked out upon the gardens and flourishing trees, and from the other side into the deep meadows and upon the fresh foliage of the woods. Then my dear congregation recurred to my mind, and I hastened back to my sermon. In this manner I had continued until evening. But now it was impossible to remain longer at home. If, at such a time, I have no opportunity of speaking, I