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I love ye-chimes of Motherland,
With all this soul of mine,

And bless the Lord that I am sprung
Of good old English line:

And like a son I fing the lay
That England's glory tells;
For fhe is lovely to the Lord,
For you, ye Christian bells!

And heir of her ancestral fame,
Though far away my birth,

Thee too I love, my Foreft-land,

The joy of all the earth;

For thine thy mother's voice shall be,

And here where God is King,

With English chimes, from Christian

spires,

The wilderness shall ring.

Arthur C. Coxe.

AN INCIDENT OF THE FIRE AT HAMBURG.

THE

tower of old Saint Nicholas soared

upward to the skies,

Like some huge piece of Nature's make, the growth of centuries;

You could not deem its crowding spires a work of human art,

They seemed to ftruggle lightward from a sturdy living heart.

Not Nature's self more freely speaks in crystal or in oak,

Than, through the pious builder's hand, in that gray pile fhe spoke;

And as from acorn springs the oak, so, freely and

alone,

Sprang from his heart this hymn to God, sung in

obedient ftone.

2

It seemed a wondrous freak of chance, so perfect,

yet so rough,

A whim of Nature cryftallized flowly in granite

tough;

The thick spires yearned towards the fky in quaint, harmonious lines,

And in broad sunlight basked and flept, like a grove of blafted pines.

Never did rock or stream or tree lay claim with better right

To all the adorning sympathies of fhadow and of light;

And, in that foreft petrified, as forester there

dwells

Stout Herman, the old sacriftan, sole lord of all its bells.

Surge leaping after surge, the fire roared onward red as blood,

Till half of Hamburg lay engulfed beneath the eddying flood;

For miles away, the fiery spray poured down its deadly rain,

And back and forth the billows sucked, and paused, and burst again.

From square to square with tiger leaps rushed on the luftful fire,

The air to leeward fhuddered with the gasps of its

defire;

And church and palace, which even now ftood whelmed but to the knee,

Lift their black roofs like breakers lone amid the whirling sea.

Up in his tower old Herman sat and watched with quiet look ;

His soul had trufted God too long to be at last

forsook ;

He could not fear, for surely God a pathway would unfold

Through this red sea for faithful hearts, as once he did of old.