Yet, in her final night, amid her stood

Immortal messengers, and pausing Heaven Pleaded with man; but she was quite imbued, Her last hour waned, she scorn'd to be forgiven!

'Twas done! down pour'd at once the sulphurous shower,

Down stoop'd, in flame, the heaven's red canopy: Oh! for the arm of God, in that fierce hour!

'Twas vain; nor help of God or man was nigh.

They rush, they bound, they howl, the men of sin; Still stoop'd the cloud, still burst the thicker

blaze;

The earthquake heaved! Then sank the hideous

din !

Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays.

A HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

CHATTERTON.

ALMIGHTY Framer of the skies! O let our pure devotion rise, Like incense in thy sight! Wrapt in impenetrable shade The texture of our souls were made Till thy command gave light. The Sun of Glory gleamed the ray, Refined the darkness into day, And bade the vapours fly: Impelled by his eternal love, He left his palaces above To cheer our gloomy sky.

Yet, in her final night, amid her stood Immortal messengers, and pausing Heaven Pleaded with man; but she was quite imbue

Her last hour waned, she scorn'd to be forgiv

'Twas done! down pour'd at once the sulphas shower,

Down stoop'd, in flame, the heaven's red can Oh! for the arm of God, in that fierce hour! 'Twas vain; nor belp of God or man was mi

They rush, they bound, they howl, the mea of st Still stoop'd the cloud, still burst the thi blaze;

The earthquake heaved! Then sank the hide

din!

Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays

A HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS DAY.

CHATTERTON.

ALMIGHTY Framer of the skies!
O let our pure devotion rise,
Like incense in thy sight!
Wrapt in impenetrable shade
The texture of our souls were made
Till thy command gave light.

The Sun of Glory gleamed the ray,
Refined the darkness into day,
And bade the vapours fly:
Impelled by his eternal love,
He left his palaces above
To cheer our gloomy sky.

How shall we celebrate the day, When God appeared in mortal clay, The mark of worldly scorn; When the archangels' heavenly lays Attempted the Redeemer's praise, And hail'd salvation's morn?

An humble form the Godhead wore, The pains of poverty he bore,

To gaudy pomp unknown: Though in a human walk he trod, Still was the Man Almighty God, In glory all his own.

Despised, oppressed, the Godhead bears The torments of this vale of tears; Nor bade his vengeance rise; He saw the creatures he had made Revile his power, his peace invade; He saw with mercy's eyes.

How shall we celebrate his name,
Who groan'd beneath a life of shame,
In all afflictions tried;
The soul is raptured to conceive
A truth, which Being must believe,
The God eternal died.

My soul, exert thy powers, adore,
Upon devotion's plumage soar,
To celebrate the day:

The God from whom creation sprung
Shall animate my grateful tongue;
From Him I'll catch the lay!

Q

The Eternal Mind-the Father of all thought-
Are they become mere tenants of a tomb?
Dwellers in darkness, who the illuminate realms
Of uncreate light have visited and lived?
Lived in the dreadful splendour of that throne,
Which One, with gentle hand the veil of flesh
Lifting, that hung 'twixt man and it, reveal'd
In glory?-throne, before which, even now
Our souls, moved by prophetic power, bow down
Rejoicing, yet at their own natures awed?
Souls that thee know by a mysterious sense,
Thou awful, unseen Presence-are they quench'd,
Or, burn they on, hid from our mortal eyes
By that bright day which ends not; as the sun
His robe of light flings round the glittering stars.
And with our frames do perish all our loves!
Do those that take their root, and put forth buds,
And their soft leaves, unfolded in the warmth
Of mutual hearts, grow up and live in beauty,
Then fade and fall, like fair unconscious flowers?
Are thoughts and passions that to the tongue give
speech,

And make it send forth winning harmonies,-
That to the cheek do give its living glow,
And vision in the eye the soul intense
With that for which there is no utterance-
Are these the body's accidents?—no more?
To live in it, and, when that dies, go out
Like the burnt taper's flame?

O listen, man!
A voice within us speaks that startling word,
"Man, thou shalt never die !" Celestial voices
Hymn it unto our souls; according harps,
By angel-fingers touch'd, when the mild stars
Of morning sang together, sound forth still

SACRED HARMONY.

The song of our great immortality;

299

Thick-clustering orbs, and this our fair domain.
The tall dark mountains, and the deep-toned seas,
Jen in this solemn, universal song.

9, listen ye, our spirits! drink it in

From all the air! 'Tis in the gentle moonlight: Tis floating midst day's setting glories: Night, Wrapp'd in her sable robe, with silent step Cats to our bed, and breathes it in our ears: Night and the dawn, bright day, and thoughtful eve, All time, all bounds, the limitless expanse, At one vast mystic instrument, are touch'd By an unseen living Hand, and conscious chords Quiver with joy in this great jubilee. The dying hear it; and, as sounds of earth Grow dull and distant, wake their passing souls To mingle in this heavenly harmony.

A HYMN FOR FAMILY WORSHIP.

KIRKE WHITE.

O LORD! another day is flown,
And we, a lonely band,

Are met once more before Thy throne,
To bless Thy fostering hand.

And wilt Thou bend a listening ear,
To praises low as ours?
Thou wilt! for Thou dost love to hear

The song which meekness pours.

And Jesus, Thou Thy smiles wilt deign,
As we before Thee pray;