MUSIC

(From "Twelfth Night")

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again - it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south
That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing, and giving odor.

William Shakespeare.

MUSIC

The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell: And feeling hearts-touch them but rightly

- pour

A thousand melodies unheard before!

Samuel Rogers.

MUSIC

O Harmony! thou tenderest nurse of pain,
If that thy note's sweet magic e'er can heal

Griefs which the patient spirit oft may feel, Oh! let me listen to thy songs again;

Till memory her fairest tints shall bring;

Hope wake with brighter eye, and listening

seem

With smiles to think on some delightful dream,

That waved o'er the charmed sense its gladsome wing!

For when thou leadest all thy soothing strains

More smooth along, the silent passions meet, In one suspended transport, sad and sweet; And nought but sorrow's softest touch remains;

That, when the transitory charm is o'er, Just wakes a tear, and then is felt no more. William Lisle Bowles.

PSALM CL.

Praise ye the Lord. Praise God in his sanctuary: praise him in the firmament of

his power.

Praise him for his mighty acts: praise him

according to his excellent greatness.

Praise him with the sound of the trumpet: praise him with the psaltery and harp. Praise him with the timbrel and dance: praise

him with stringed instruments and organs. Praise him upon the loud cymbals: praise him upon the high-sounding cymbals.

Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.