"Let there be light !"-were the words of salvation, When man had defeated life's object and end,

Had waned from his glorious and glad elevation, Abandon'd a God and conformed to a fiend.

"Let there be light !"-The same Spirit supernal That lighted the torch when creation began, Laid aside the bright beams of his Godhead eternal, And wrought as a servant, and wept as a man. "Let there be light!"-from Gethsemane spring. ing,

From Golgotha's darkness, from Calvary's

tomb

Joy, joy unto mortals, good Angels are singing, The Shiloh has triumph'd and death is o'ercome.

HYMN OF THE ANGELS AT THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.

R. MONTGOMERY.
Thor Lord of lords, and Light of light!
Who, with empyreal glory bright,
Art seated on th' Eternal throne
Invisibly, the vast Alone!-

Ten thousand worlds around Thee blaze,
Ten thousand harps repeat thy praise,
Yet hymn, nor harp, nor song divine,
Nor myriad orbs created Thine,
This measureless display of love
To earth below, and heaven above,
By thy immingled power could tell,-
That ends the curse, and conquers Hell!
Oh! never, never-since we came
On wing of light and form of flame,
Like mingling harmonies that rise
In glorious swell along the skies,
Have angels known entrancing bliss
Unfathomably deep as this!-
For, lo! the manger where He lies,
A world-redeeming Sacrifice:
Peace on earth! to man good-will!
Let the skies our anthem fill!

Hail, Virgin-born! transcendent Child!
Of mortal semblance, undefil'd,
By ages vision'd, doom'd to be
The Star of Immortality!

Hail! Prince of Peace, and Lord of Light!
Around thy path the world is bright;

Where'er Thou tread'st, an Eden blooms, And earth forgets her myriad tombs! Thy voice is heard-and anguish dies, The dead awake and greet the skies! Lo! blindness melts in healing rays, And mute lips ope in hymns of praise; The famish'd on thy bounty feed, While myriads at thy summons speed, To live upon Salvation's strain, And see the lost restored again! Peace on earth! to Man good-will! Let the skies our anthem fill !

SILENCE OF NATURE.

ANON.

WHEN, thoughtful, to the vault of heaven

I lift my wondering eyes,

And see the clear and quiet even

To night resign the skies,-
The moon, in silence, rear her crest,
The stars in silence shine;-

A secret rapture fills my breast

That speaks its birth divine.

Unheard, the dews around me fall,
And heavenly influence shed,
And silent on this earthly ball
Celestial footsteps tread :
Aerial music wakes the spheres,
Touch'd by harmonious power;
With sounds, unheard by mortal ears,
They charm the lingering hours.

Night reigns, in silence, o'er the pole,
And spreads her gems unheard;
Her lessons penetrate the soul,
Yet borrow not a word:
Noiseless the sun emits his fire,

And silent pours his golden streams:
And silently the shades retire
Before his rising beams.

The hand that moves and regulates, And guides the vast machine,That governs wills, and times, and fates,Retires, and works unseen:

Angelic visitants forsake

Their amaranthine bowers;

On silent wing their stations take,
And watch the allotted hours.

Sick of the vanity of man,

His noise, and pomp, and show,-I'll move upon great Nature's plan, And, silent, work below; With inward harmony of soul, I'll wait the upper sphere; Shining, I'll mount above the pole, And break my silence there.

Bending her wasted body o'er the grave
Of him who was the husband of her youth.
The moonbeams, trembling through these ancient
yews,

That stand like ranks of mourners round the bed
Of death, fall dismally upon her face,
Her little, hollow, withered face, almost
Invisible, so worn away with wo.

The tread of hasty foot, passing so late,
Disturbs her not; nor yet the roar of mirth,
From neighbouring revelry ascending loud,
She hears, sees nought, fears nought. One thought

alone

Fills all her heart and soul, half hoping, half
Remembering, sad, unutterable thought!
Uttered by silence and by tears alone.
Sweet tears! the awful language, eloquent
Of infinite affection, far too big

For words. She sheds not many now. That grass,
Which springs so rankly o'er the dead, has drunk
Already many showers of grief; a drop
Or two are all that now remain behind,
And, from her eye that darts strange fiery beams,
At dreary intervals, drip down her cheek,
Falling most mournfully from bone to bone.
But yet she wants not tears. That babe that hangs
Upon her breast, that babe that never saw
Its father-he was dead before its birth-
Helps her to weep, weeping before its time,
Taught sorrow by the mother's melting voice,
Repeating oft the father's sacred name.
Be not surprised at this expense of woe!
The man she mourns was all she called her own,
The music of her ear, light of her eye,
Desire of all her heart, her hope, her fear,

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The element in which her passions lived, Dead now, or dying all: nor long shall she Visit that place of skulls. Night after night, She wears herself away. The moonbeam, now, That falls upon her unsubstantial frame, Scarce finds obstruction; and upon her bones, Barren as leafless boughs in winter-time, Her infant fastens his little hands as oft, Forgetful, she leaves him a while unheld. But look, she passes not away in gloom. A light from far illumes her face, a light That comes beyond the moon-beyond the sunThe light of truth divine, the glorious hope Of resurrection at the promised morn, And meetings then which ne'er shall part again

EVENING. ANON.

A CRIMSON glow adorns the western sky;
The setting sun looks broad at his decline;
The star of Evening twinkling, smiles on high,
And sings, "The hand that made me is divine.”

The silent moon begins ber journey bright;

Across the ether blue serenely glides;
And smiling o'er the gloomy face of night,
Sublime in placid majesty she rides.

Religion thus, across this world of care,
Calmly majestic throws her peaceful beam,
Bids earth's dull scenes a heavenly aspect wear
And all creation with fresh beauty teem.