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THOU ART, OH GOD!
"The day is thine ; the night also is thine : thou hast prepared the light and the sun. Thou hast set all the borders of the earth; thou hast made summer and winter."—Psa. lxxiv. 16, 17.
I^HOU art, 0 God ! the life and light
Are but reflections caught from thee.
When Day, with farewell beam, delays
And we can almost think we gaze
Those hues, that make the sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, Lord! are Thine.
When Night, with wings of starry gloom,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord ! are Thine.
When youthful Spring around us breathes,
And every flower the Summer wreathes
Where'er we turn, thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine!
FALLEN IS THY THRONE.
VALLEN is thy throne, 0 Israel!
Silence is o'er thy plains; Thy dwellings all lie desolate,
Thy children weep in chains.
On Etham's barren shore?
Now lights thy path no more. .
Lord ! thou didst love Jerusalem —
Once she was all thy own; Her love thy fairest heritage,*
Her power thy glory's throne ;t Till evil came, and blighted
Thy long-loved olive-tree ;$ And Salem's shrines were lighted
For other gods than Thee!
* " I have left mine heritage; I have given the dearly-beloved of my soul into the hands of her enemies."—Jer. xii. 7.
t " Do not disgrace the throne of thy glory."—Jer. xiv. 21.
t " The Lord called thy name a green olive-tree; fair and of goodly fruit."—Jer. xi. 1-6.
Then sunk the star of Solyma —
Then pass'd her glory's day,
The wild wind whirls away.
Where once the mighty trod, And sunk those guilty towers,
While Baal reign'd as God!
« 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 t
Shall hide but half her dead."
THIS WORLD IS ALL A FLEETING SHOW,
rTHIS world is all a fleeting show,
For man's illusion given;
§ " For he shall be like the heath m the desert."—Jer. xvii. 6.
* Take away her battlements ; for they are not the Lord's."— Jer. V. 10.
t " 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.
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow—
And false the light on Glory's plume,
As fading hues of Even;
There's nothing bright tut heaven.
Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we're driven, And Fancy's flash, and Eeason's ray, Serve but to light the troubled way —-There's nothing calm but heaven!
WHO IS THE MAID?
WHO is the maid my spirit seeks,
Through cold reproof and slander's blight?
Is Aer's an eye of this world's light?
Are the pale looks of her I love;
* 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 :—" Numquid me vestes sericas, nitentes gemma, picta fades, aut auri rapuit ambitio? Nulla fuit alia Romae matronarum, quae meam possit edomare mentem, nisi lugens atque jejunans, fletu pene csecata."—Epist. ' Si tibi putem.*