Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there followed some droppings of rain
But now the fair Traveller's come to the west,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.

2 Just such is the Christian:* his course he begins
Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his sins
And melts into tears; then he breaks out and shines,
And travels his heavenly way;

But, when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like a fine setting sun, he looks richer in grace,
And gives a sure hope at the end of his days,
Of rising in brighter array.



[C. M.]

Our Destiny.

TUNE-" Naomi."


1 SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright;
Bridal of earth and sky!

The dews shall weep thy fall to-night;
For thou, alas! must die.

2 Sweet Rose, in air whose odors wave,
And color charms the eye!
Thy root is ever in its grave,
And thou, alas! must die.

3 Sweet Spring, of days and roses made,
Whose charms for beauty vie!
Thy days depart, thy roses fade,
Thou too, alas! must die.

*Vide Prov. iv. 18.

2 When gathering shades the landscape veil,
And peasants seek their village-dale,
And mists from river-wave arise,
And dew in every blossom lies;

3 At that calm hour, so still, so pale,
Awakes the lonely nightingale;
And from a hermitage of shade,
Fills with her voice the forest-glade.

4 Father in heaven! oh! thus, when day
With all its cares hath passed away,
And silent hours waft peace on earth,
And hush the louder strains of mirth;

5 Thus may sweet songs of praise and prayer,
To Thee my spirit's offering bear;
Yon star, my signal, set on high,
For vesper-hymns of piety.

6 So may Thy mercy and Thy power,
Protect me through the midnight hour;
And balmy sleep and visions blest
Smile on Thy servant's bed of rest.



[C. M.]

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The Autumn Evening.

TUNE-" Clarendon."

1 BEHOLD the western evening light!
It melts in deepening gloom;

So calmly Christians sink away,
Descending to the tomb.


2 The winds breathe low, the withering leaf

Scarce whispers from the tree;

So gently flows the parting breath,
When good men cease to be.

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