But if neither feeling suits thy heart, Let's see (to please thee) whether We may not learn some precious art

To mix their charms together. One feeling, still more sweet, to form From two, so sweet already,A friendship that, like love, is warm, A love, like friendship, steady. Thus let it be, thus let me woo; Dearest, thus we 'll join the two.

SPRING AND AUTUMN.
French Air.

EV'RY season hath its pleasures:
Spring may boast her flow'ry prime,
Yet the vineyard's ruby treasures
Brighten Autumn's sob'rer time.
So life's year begins and closes;

Days, though short'ning, still can shine; What, though youth gave loves and roses, Age still leaves us friends and wine.

Phillis, when she might have caught me,
All the spring look'd coy and shy;
Yet, herself, in autumn sought me,

When the flow'rs were all gone by.
Ah, too late-she found her lover,

Calm and free, beneath his vine,
Drinking to the spring-time over,
In his best autumnal wine.

Thus may we, as years are flying,
To their flight our pleasures suit,
Nor regret the blossoms dying,

While we still can taste the fruit.
Oh, while days like this are ours,

Where's the lip that dares repine? Spring may take our loves and flow'rs, So autumn leaves us friends and wine.

WHEN LOVE IS KIND.

Austrian Air.

WHEN love is kind,

Cheerful and free,

Love's sure to find

Welcome from me.

'Partly borrowed from the Printemps et l'automne of Béranger.

THOU art, Oh God! the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,

Are but reflections caught from thee.
Where'er we turn thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine!
When Day, with farewell beam, delays
Among the opening clouds of Even,
And we can almost think we gaze

Through golden vistas into heaven-
Those hues, that make the sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, Lord! are thine.

When Night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumber'd eyes-
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord! are Thine.

When youthful Spring around us breathes,
Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower the Summer wreathes

Is born beneath that kindling eye.
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine!

THIS WORLD IS ALL A FLEETING SHOW. Air-STEVENSON.

THIS world is all a fleeting show,

For man's illusion given;

The smiles of Joy, the tears of Woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow-

There's nothing true but heaven!

I have heard that this air is by the late Mrs Sheridan. It is sung to the beautiful old words, I do confess thou 'rt smooth and fair.

And false the light on Glory's plume,
As fading dews of Even;

And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gather'd for the tomb,-
There's nothing bright but heaven!

Poor wanderers of a stormy day,

From wave to wave we 're driven, And Fancy's flash, and Reason's ray, Serve but to light the troubled wayThere's nothing calm but heav'n.

« Go,»-said the Lord-« Ye conquerors!

Steep in her blood your swords,

And rase to earth her battlements,'
For they are not the Lord's!
Till Zion's mournful daughter

O'er kindred bones shall tread,
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter 2
Shall hide but half her dead!»>

WHO IS THE MAID?

ST JEROME'S LOVE.3
Air-BEETHOVEN.

Who is the maid my spirit seeks,
Through cold reproof and slander's blight?
Has she Love's roses on her cheeks?

Is hers an eye of this world's light?
No,-wan and sunk with midnight prayer
Are the pale looks of her I love;

Or if, at times, a light be there,
Its beam is kindled from above.

I chose not her, my soul's elect,

From those who seek their Maker's shrine In gems and garlands proudly deck'd,

As if themselves were things divine! No-Heaven but faintly warms the breast That beats beneath a broider'd veil; And she who comes in glittering vest To mourn her frailty, still is frail.4

Not so the faded form I prize

And love, because its bloom is gone; The glory in those sainted eyes

Is all the grace her brow puts on. And ne'er was Beauty's dawn so bright, So touching as that form's decay, Which, like the altar's trembling light, In holy lustre wastes away!

THE BIRD, LET LOOSE.
Air-BEETHOVEN.

THE bird, let loose in Eastern skies,5
When hastening fondly home,

Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.

Take away her battlements; for they are not the Lord's.— Jer. v, 10.

Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that it shall no more be called Tophet, nor the Valley of the Son of Hinnom, but the Valley of Slaughter, for they shall bury in Tophet till there be no place. Jer. vii, 32.

> These lines were suggested by a passage in St Jerome's reply to some calumnious remarks that had been circulated upon his intimacy with the matron Paula: Namquid me vestes sericæ, nitentes gemmæ, picta facies, aut auri rapuit ambitio? Nulla fuit alia Romæ matronarum, quæ meam possit edomare mentem, nisi lugens atque jejunans, fleta pene carcata.»-Epist. « Si tibi putem.»

4 Ου γαρ χρυσοφορείν την δακρύουσαν δει.»- Chrysost.

Homil. 8. in Epist. ad Tim.

5 The carrier-pigeon, it is well known, flies at an elevated pitch,

in order to surmount every obstacle between her and the place to which she is destined.

But high she shoots through air and light, Above all low delay,

Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, God! from every care
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air,

To hold my course to Thee!
No sin to cloud-no lure to stay
My Soul, as home she springs ;-
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!

OH! THOU WHO DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S
TEAR!
Air-HAYDN.

He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.. Psalm cxlvii, 3.

On! Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,

If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee!
The friends who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;
And he who has but tears to give,

Must weep those tears alone.
But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.

When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And even the hope that threw

A moment's sparkle o'er our tears,
Is dimm'd and vanish'd too!

Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom,

Did not thy wing of love

Come, brightly wafting through the gloom

Our peace-branch from above?

Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;

As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day!

WEEP NOT FOR THOSE.
Air-AVISON.

WEEP not for those whom the veil of the tomb,
In life's happy morning, hath hid from our eyes,
Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom,
Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies.
Death chill'd the fair fountain, ere sorrow had stain'd it,
"T was frozen in all the pure light of its conrse,
And but sleeps till the sunshine of heaven has unchain'd
it,

To water that Eden where first was its source!

Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb,

In life's happy morning, hath hid from our eyes, Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies.

334

Mourn not for her, the young Bride of the Vale,'
Our gayest and loveliest, lost to us now,
Ere life's early lustre had time to grow pale,

And the garland of love was yet fresh on her brow! Oh! then was her moment, dear spirit, for flying

From this gloomy world, while its gloom was un-
known-

And the wild hymns she warbled so sweetly, in dying,
Were echoed in heaven by lips like her own!
Weep not for her,—in her spring-time she flew
To that land where the wings of the soul are un-
furl'd,

And now,
like a star beyond evening's cold dew,
Looks radiantly down on the tears of this world.

THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SHRINE.
Air-STEVENSON.

THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine;
My temple, Lord! that Arch of thine;
My censer's breath the mountain airs,
And silent thoughts my only prayers.2

My choir shall be the moonlight waves,
When murmuring homeward to their caves,
Or, when the stillness of the sea,
Even more than music, breathes of Thee!

I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown,
All light and silence, like thy throne!
And the pale stars shall be, at night,
The only eyes that watch
my rite.

Thy heaven, on which 't is bliss to look,
Shall be my pure and shining book,
Where I shall read, in words of flame,
The glories of thy wondrous name.

I'll read thy anger in the rack
That clouds awhile the day-beam's track;
Thy mercy in the azure hue

Of sunny brightness breaking through!

There's nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of thy Deity!

There's nothing dark, below, above,
But in its gloom I trace thy love,
And meekly wait that moment when
Thy touch shall turn all bright again!

'This second verse, which I wrote long after the first, alludes to the fate of a very lovely and amiable girl, the daughter of the late Colonel Bainbrigge, who was married in Ashbourne church, October 31, 1815, and died of a fever in a few weeks after: the sound of her marriage-bells seemed scarcely out of our ears when we heard of her death. During her last delirium she sung several hymns, in a voice even clearer and sweeter than usual, and among them were some from the present collection (particularly There's nothing bright but Heaven »), which this very interesting girl had often heard during the summer.

2 Pii orant tacite.

SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL!

MIRIAM'S SONG.

Air-AVISON.'

And Miriam. the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances.»-Exod. XV, 20.

SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph'd,-his people are free.
Sing-for the pride of the tyrant is broken,

His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave-
How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah has triumph'd,-his people are free.

GO, LET ME WEEP!
Air-STEVENSON.

Go, let me weep! there's bliss in tears,
When he who sheds them inly feels
Some lingering stain of early years

Effaced by every drop that steals.
The fruitless showers of worldly woe
Fall dark to earth, and never rise;
While tears that from repentance flow,
In bright exhalement reach the skies.
Go, let me weep! there's bliss in tears,
When he who sheds them inly feels
Some lingering stain of early years

Effaced by every drop that steals.

Leave me to sigh o'er hours that flew

More idly than the summer's wind, And, while they pass'd, a fragrance threw, But left no trace of sweets behind. The warmest sigh that pleasure heaves Is cold, is faint to those that swell The heart where pure repentance grieves O'er hours of pleasure loved too well! Leave me to sigh o'er days that flew

More idly than the summer's wind, And, while they pass'd, a fragrance threw, But left no trace of sweets behind.

COME NOT, OH LORD!

Air-HAYDN.

COME not, oh Lord! in the dread robe of splendour
Thou worest on the Mount, in the day of thine ire;
Come veil'd in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender,
Which Mercy flings over thy features of fire!

Lord! thou rememberest the night, when thy nation'
Stood fronting her foe by the red-rolling stream;
On Egypt thy pillar frown'd dark desolation,
While Israel bask'd all the night in its beam.

So, when the dread clouds of anger enfold thee,
From us, in thy mercy, the dark side remove;
While shrouded in terrors, the guilty behold thee,
Oh! turn upon us the mild light of thy Love!

My God! silent to thee

Pure, warm, silent to thee:

So, deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion,
Unheard by the world, rises silent to thee!

As still to the star of its worship, though clouded,
The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea,
So, dark as I roam, in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to thee,
My God! trembling to thee-
True, fond, trembling to thee:
So, dark as I roam, in this wintry world shrouded,
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to thee!

WERE NOT THE SINFUL MARY'S TEARS. Air-STEVENSON.

WERE not the sinful Mary's tears

An offering worthy Heaven,
When o'er the faults of former years

She wept-and was forgiven?-
When, bringing every balmy sweet
Her day of luxury stored,
She o'er her Saviour's hallow'd feet
The precious perfumes pour'd;-

And wiped them with that golden hair,
Where once the diamond shone,
Though now those gems of grief were there
Which shine for God alone!

Were not those sweets so humbly shed,-
That hair, those weeping eyes,—
And the sunk heart, that inly bled,-
Heaven's noblest sacrifice?

Thou that hast slept in error's sleep,
Oh! wouldst thou wake in heaven,
Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep,

« Love much »3-and be forgiven!

BUT WHO SHALL SEE.
Air STEVENSON.

BUT who shall see the glorious day

When, throned on Zion's brow, The Lord shall rend that veil away Which hides the nations now!! When earth no more beneath the fear Of his rebuke shall lie;2

When pain shall cease, and every tear Be wiped from every eye! 3

Then Judah! thou no more shalt mourn
Beneath the heathen's chain;
The days of splendour shall return,
And all be new again.4

The Fount of Life shall then be quaff'd

In peace, by all who come !5
And every wind that blows shall waft
Some long-lost exile home!

AS DOWN IN THE SUNLESS RETREATS.

Air-HAYDN.

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean, Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So, deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to thee,

And it came between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel; and it was a cloud and darkness to them, but it gave light by night to these.» Exod. xiv, 20.—My application of this passage is borrowed from some late prose writer, whose nam· I am ungrateful enough to forget.

Instead of On Egypt here, it will suit the music better to sing On these ; and in the third line of the next verse, While shrouded may, with the same view, be altered to - While wrapp'd..

3. Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much.. St Luke, vii, 47.

ALMIGHTY GOD!

CHORUS OF PRIESTS.

Air-MOZART.

ALMIGHTY God! when round thy shrine The palm-tree's heavenly branch we twine, (Emblem of Life's eternal ray,

And Love that << fadeth not away,»)

And he will destroy in this mountain the face of the covering cast over all people, and the veil that is spread over all nations."— Isaiah, XXV, 7.

2 The rebuke of his people shall he take away from off all the earth.-Isaiah, xxv, 8.

1. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; neither shall there be any more pain."-Rev. xxi, 4.

4 And be that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. Rev. xxi, v.

5. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.»-Rev. xxii, 17.

6. The Scriptures having declared that the Temple of Jerusalem was a type of the Messiah, it is natural to conclude that the Palms, which made so conspicuous a figure in that structure, represented that Life and Immortality which were brought to light by the Gospel.-Observations on the Palm, as a sacred Emblem, by W. Tighe.