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But scarcely can he cross himself, or on his good saint call,
Before the sacrilegious flood o'erleaped the churchyard wall;
And, ere a pater half was said, 'mid smoke and crackling glare,
His island tower scarce juts its head above the wide despair.
Upon the peril's desperate peak his heart ftood up sublime;
His first thought was for God above, his next was for his chime;
'Sing now and make your voices heard in hymns of praise," cried he,
"As did the Israelites of old, safe walking through the sea!
(L Through this red sea our God hath made the pathway safe to shore;
Our promised land stands full in fight; fhout now as ne'er before!
And as the tower came crushing down, the bells, in clear accord,
Pealed forth the grand old German hymn,-“ All good souls, praise the Lord!"
I myself will awake right early.—Psalter.
HE Sun is up betimes,
And the dappled Eaft is blush
And the merry matin-chimes,
They are gushing-Chriftian-gushing !
They are tolling in the tower,
For a sunshine brighter far
The lark is in the sky,
And his morning-note is pouring : He hath a wing to fly,
So he's soaring-Chriftian-soaring!
His neft is on the ground,
But only in the night;
For he loves the matin-sound,
And the highest heaven's height. Hark-Chriftian-Hark!
At heaven-door he fings! And be thou like the lark,
With thy soaring spirit-wings!
The merry matin-bells,
In their watch-tower they are swinging; For the day is o'er the dells,
And they're finging-Chriftian-finging!
They have caught the morning beam
ITH deep affection and recollection
I often think of those Shandon bells,
Whose sound so wild would, in days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle their magic spells;
And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the River Lee.
I've heard bells chiming full many a clime in,
While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate,—