The Star of Bethlehem.
WHEN marshalled on the nightly plain,
The glittering host bestud the sky;
One star alone, of all the train,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.
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 yawned, and rudely blowed
The wind that tossed my foundering bark.
Deep horror then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased 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 danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace,
Now safely moored, my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
For ever, and for evermore,
The Star! the Star of Bethlehem!
HENRY KIRKE WHITE.
"Touch Me Not."
E who wait in wistful gaze Where young infants lie, Learning faith and silent praise From each pure calm sigh,
Say, 'mid all those beaming glances,
Starts, and gleams, and silent trances,
When the fond heart highest dances,
Feeling Heaven so nigh ?"
"Hard it is, 'mid gifts so sweet
Choosing out the prime:
But no brighter smiles we meet
Than at waking time,
When they burst the chains of slumber,
Chains that guard but not encumber,
And glad fancies without number
Ring their playful chime."
"Nay, but with a moaning sound
Babes awakening start;
See the uneasy eye glance round,
Feel the beating heart."
"But the watcher's look prevailing
In a moment stills that wailing,
Eye and heart have ceased their ailing,
Joy hath learn'd her part."-
So when rose on Easter dawn
Our all-glorious Sun,
You might see love's eye withdrawn
From the adored One.
Tears that morn were in her waking,
Now again her heart is breaking;-
Who may soothe her soul's sad aching?
For her Lord is gone.
Him for tears she may not see,
Even her soul's delight,
Yet full near to her is He.-
Say, did Hosts of Light
Ever breathe in mortals' hearing
Tones so soft, so heavenly cheering?
"Mary," was the word endearing—
Heaven and earth grew bright.-
Lo, the babe spreads out his arms
Toward the watcher's face,
Fain to hide from sad alarms
In Love's safe embrace.-
See the Word of Grace attending,
Magdalen full lowly bending.
"Touch me not till mine ascending,"
Is the word of Grace.
Love with infant's haste would fain
Touch Him and adore,
But a deeper holier gain
Mercy keeps in store.
"Touch Me not: awhile believe Me:
Touch Me not till Heaven receive Me,
Then draw near and never leave Me,
Then I go no more."
Transcendent Power! sole Arbiter of Fate!
TRANSCENDENT power! sole arbiter of
How great thy glory! and thy bliss how great!
To view from thy exalted throne above
(Eternal source of light, of life, and love!)
Unnumber'd creatures draw their smiling birth,
To bless the heav'ns, or beautify the earth.
Then raise the song, the gen'ral anthem raise,
And swell the concert of eternal praise.
Assist, ye orbs, that form the boundless whole,
Which in the womb of space unnumber'd roll;
Ye planets, who compose our lesser scheme,
And bend concertive round the solar frame;
Thou eye of nature! whose extensive ray,
With endless charms, adorns the face of day;
Consenting, raise the harmonious joyful sound,
And bear his praises through the vast profound!
His praise, ye winds that fan the cheerful air,
Swift as they pass along your pinions bear!
His praise let Ocean thro' her realms display,
Far as her circling billows can convey!
His praise, ye misty vapours, wide diffuse,
In rains descending, or in milder dews!
His praises whisper, ye majestic trees,
As your tops rustle to the gentle breeze!
His praise around, ye flow'ry tribes exhale,
Far as your sweets embalm the spicy gale!
His praise, ye dimpled streams, to earth reveal,
As pleas'd ye murmur thro' the flow'ry vale!
His praise, ye feather'd choirs, distinguish'd sing,
As to your notes the vocal forests ring!
His praise proclaim, ye monsters of the deep,
Who in the vast abyss your revels keep!
Or fair natives of our earthly scene,
Who range the wilds, or haunt the pasture green!
Nor thou, vain lord of earth, with careless ear, The universal hymn of worship hear!
But ardent in the sacred chorus join,
Thy soul transported with the task divine!
While by his works th' Almighty is confess'd,
Supremely glorious, and supremely bless'd!
Great Lord of life! from whom this humble frame
Derives the pow'r to sing thy holy name,
O blest Creator, let thy servant pay
His mite of gratitude this feeble way;
Thy goodness own, thy providence adore,
And yield thee only-what was thine before.
The Bow of Promise. TRIUMPHANT arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part,
I ask not proud Philosophy
To teach me what thou art.
Still seem as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station given,
For happy spirits to alight
Betwixt the earth and heaven.
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