Not smoother, gave the deep its azure dye, Till a new heaven was arch'd and glass'd below; And then the clouds, that, gay in sunset, fly, Cast on it such a stain, it kindled so, As in the cheek of youth the living roses grow. I, too, have seen thee on thy surging path, When the night-tempest met thee: thou didst dash Thy white arms high in heaven, as if in wrath, In thee, first light, the bounding ocean smiles, O! with a joy no gifted tongue can tell, I hurry o'er the waters, when the sail Swells tensely, and the light keel glances well Over the curling billow, and the gale Comes off the spicy groves to tell its winning tale. The soul is thine: of old thou wert the power Or when I climb the height, and wander free In thy meridian glory, for the air Sparkles and burns in thy intensity, I feel thy light within me, and I share In the full glow of soul thy spirit kindles there. JAMES G. PERCIVAL. The Joy of Social Worship. THERE is a joy, which angels well may prize: To see, and hear, and aid God's worship, when Unnumbered tongues, a host of Christian men, Youths, matrons, maidens, join. Their sounds arise, "Like many waters; " now glad symphonies Of thanks and glory to our God; and then, Seal of the social prayer, the loud Amen, Faith's common pledge, contrition's mingled cries. Thus, when the Church of Christ was hale and young, She called on God, one spirit and one voice;Thus from corruption cleansed, with health new strung, Her sons she nurtured. Oh! be theirs, by choice, What duty bids, to worship, heart and tongue; At once to pray, at once in God rejoice! BISHOP MANT. The Breath of Heaven must Swell WEAK the Sail. and irresolute is man; The purpose of to-day, Woven with pains into his plan, To-morrow rends away. The bow well-bent, and smart the spring, But passion rudely snaps the string, Some foe to his upright intent Finds out his weaker part; Virtue engages his assent, 'Tis here the folly of the wise Bound on a voyage of awful length, A stranger to superior strength, But oars alone can ne'er prevail, The breath of heaven must swell the sail Or all the toil is lost. WILLIAM COWPER. Thou Giver of all Earthly Good. THOU HOU Giver of all earthly good— And breathes in every flower: We may forget thee for a time, Too large a share of life; But not in Nature's sweet domain, Where everything we see, From loftiest mount to lowliest flower, Where waves lift up their tuneful voice, And solemn anthems chime; Where winds through echoing forests peal Their melodies sublime; Where e'en insensate objects breathe Devotion's grateful lays— Man can not choose but join the choir Beneath the city's gilded domes, Our forms may lowly bend, our lips The whilst our wayward hearts refuse But in that grander temple, reared Where glorious beauty bids the mind's Our thoughts, like grateful vassals, give Our souls in adoration bow, And mutely reverence Thee. EMELINE S. SMITH. The Winged Worshippers. GAY, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here, Where mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep: Penance is not for you, Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. |