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I've poured her low and fervent prayer,
That our eternity might be
To rise in heaven, like stars at night,
And tread a living path of light.
I have been on the dewy hills,
When night was stealing from the dawn, And mist was on the waking rills,
And tints were delicately drawn In the gray east,
- when birds were waking, With a slow murmur, in the trees, And melody by fits was breaking
Upon the whisper of the breeze; And this when I was forth, perchance, As a worn reveller from the dance;
And when the sun sprang gloriously And freely up, and hill and river
Were catching, upon wave and tree, The subtile arrows from his quiver ;
I say, a voice has thrilled me then,
Heard on the still and rushing light,, Or creeping from the silent glen,
Like words from the departing night, -Hath stricken me, and I have pressed
On the wet grass my fevered brow, And, pouring forth the earliest,
First prayer with which I learned to bow, Have felt my mother's spirit rush
Upon me, as in by-past years,
And, yielding to the blessed gush
Of my ungovernable tears,
Have risen up- the gay, the wild —
As humble as a very child.
Startle, startld, startl dst, startles, startlst, sweet'n, sweet
'n'd, sweet'ns, true, watch, watch'd, watch'dst, writes. writ'st.
The Savior comes ! by ancient bards foretold :
Hear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold!
He from thick films shall purge the visual ray,
And on the sightless eyeball pour the day:
'Tis he th' obstructed paths of sound shall clear,
And bid new music charm th' unfolding ear :
The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,
And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe.
No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear ;
From every face he wipes off every tear.
In adamantine chains shall death be bound,
And hell's grim tyrant feel th' eternal wound.
As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
Seeks freshest pasture, and the purest air ;
Explores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,
By day o'ersees them, and by night protects ;
The tender lambs he raises in his arms,
Feeds from his hand, and in his bosom warms :
Thus shall mankind his guardian care engage,
The promised father of the future age.
No more shall nation against nation rise,
Nor ardent warriors meet, with hateful eyes ;
Nor fields with gleaming steel be covered o'er ;
The brazen trumpets kindle rage no more;
But useless lances into scythes shall bend,
And the broad falchion in a ploughshare end.
Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun; Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield, And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field. The swain in barren deserts with surprise Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise; And starts amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murmuring in his ear. On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes, T'he green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods. Waste, sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn, The spiry fir and shapely box adorn: To leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed, And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed. The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead, And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead. The steer and lion at one crib shall meet, And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet. The smiling infant in his hand shall take The crested basilisk and speckled snake; Pleased, the green lustre of the scales survey, And with their forky tongues shall innocently play.
Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise ! Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes! See a long race thy spacious courts adorn; See future sons, and daughters yet unborn, In crowding ranks on every side arise, Demanding life, impatient for the skies ! See barbarous nations at thy gates attend, Walk in thy light, and in thy temple bend ! See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings, And heaped with products of Sabean springs ! For thee Idume's spicy forests blow, And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow. See heaven its sparkling portals wide display, And break upon thee in a flood of day!
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn;
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,
O’erflow thy courts: the Light himself shall shine
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!
The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fixed his word, his saving power, remains;
Thy realm forever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns !
EXERCISES IN ARTICULATION.
Prov'd, prov'dst, grov'l, grov'll d, grov'lst, grov'ls, heav'n,
heav'ns, proves, prov'st.
SOMETIMES a party, rowed from town, will land
On a small islet formed of shelly sand,
Left by the water when the tides are low,
But which the floods in their return o'erflow;
There will they anchor, pleased a while to view
The watery waste, a prospect wild and new :
The now receding billows give them space
On either side the growing shores to pace;
And then, returning, they contract the scene,
Till small and smaller grows the walk between ;
As sea to sea approaches, shores to shores,
Till the next ebb the sandy isle restores.
Then what alarm, what danger and dismay,
If all their trust — their boat — should drift away!
And once it happened. Gay the friends advanced ;
They walked, they ran, they played, they sang, they danced;
The urns were boiling, and the cups went round,
And not a grave or thoughtful face was found ;
On the bright sand they trod with nimble feet,
Dry, shelly sand, that made the summer-seat;
The wondering mews flew fluttering o'er the head,
And waves ran softly up their shining bed.
Some formed a party from the rest to stray,
Pleased to collect the trifles in their way;
These to behold, they call their friends around;
No friends can hear, or hear another sound;
Alarmed, they hasten, yet perceive not why,
But catch the fear that quickens as they fly.
For, lo! a lady sage, who paced the sand
With her fair children, one in either hand,
Intent on home, had turned, and saw the boat
Slipped from her moorings, and now far afloat.
She gazed, she trembled, and, though faint her call,
It seemed, like thunder, to confound them all.
Their sailor-guides, the boatman and his mate,
Had drank, and slept regardless of their state.
“Awake!” they cried aloud : “alarm the shore !
Shout, all, or never shall we reach.it
Alas! no shout the distant land can reach,
Nor eye behold them from the foggy beach.
Again they join in one loud, powerful cry,
Then cease, and eager listen for reply:
None came — the rising wind blew sadly by.
They shout once more, and then they turn aside,
To see how quickly flowed the coming tide;
Between each cry they find the waters steal
On their strange prison, and new horrors feel;
Foot after foot, on the contracted ground
The billows fall, and dreadful is the sound;