Or walls of sea-green marble piled
Round some irregular city wild.

Then the light of morning lay
On the wonder-paved way,
Where the treasures of the deep
In their caves of coral sleep.
The profound abysses, where
Was never sound from upper air,
Rang with Israel's chanted words,
King of Kings! and Lord of Lords !
Then with bow and banner glancing,

On exulting Egypt came,
With her chosen horsemen prancing,

And her cars on wheels of flame,
In a rich and boastful ring
All around her furious king.
But the Lord from out his cloud,
The Lord looked down upon the proud;
And the host drove heavily
Down the deep bosom of the sea.

With a quick and sudden swell
Prone the liquid ramparts fell ;
Over horse, and over car,
Over every man of war,
Over Pharaoh's crown of gold,
The loud thundering billows rolled.
As the level waters spread
Down they sunk, they sunk like ead,
Down without a cry or groan.
And the morning sun that shone

On myriads of bright-armed men,
Its meridian radiance then
Cast on a wide sea, heaving, as of yore,
Agains; a silent, solitary shore.

Then did Israel's maidens sing,
Then did Israel's timbrels ring,
To him, the King of Kings! that in the sea,
The Lord of Lords ! had triumphed gloriously.

And our timbrels' flashing chords,
King of Kings ! and Lord of Lords !
Shall they not attuned be
Once again to victory?
Lo! a glorious triumph now;

Lo! against thy people come
A mightier Pharaoh! wilt not thou

Craze the chariot wheels of Rome ?
Will not like the Red Sea wave

Thy stern anger overthrow?
And from worse than bondage save,

From sadder than Egyptian wo,
Those whose silver cymbals glance,
Those who lead the suppliant dance,
Thy race, the only race that sings
“Lord of Lords ! and King of Kings!"

In this wide world the fondest and the best
Are the most tried, most troubled, and distress'd.

Crabb.

HYMN OF NATURE.

BY PEABODY.

God of the earth's extended plain!

The dark green fields contented lie; The mountains rise like holy towers,

Where man might commune with the sky: The tall cliff challenges the storm

That lowers upon the vale below, Where shaded fountains send their streams,

With joyous music in their flow. God of the dark and heavy deep!

The waves lie sleeping on the sands, Till the fierce trumpet of the storm

Hath summoned up their foreign bands; Then the white sails are dashed like foam,

Or hung, trembling, o'er the seas, Till, calmed by thee, the sinking gale

Serenely breathes, Depart in peace. God of the forest's solemn shade!

The grandeur of the lonely tree, That wrestles singly with the gale,

Lifts up admiring eyes to thee; But more majestic far they stand,

When, side by side, their ranks they form, To weave on high their plumes of green,

And fight their battles with the storm.

God of the light and viewless air !

When summer breezes sweetly flow, Or, gathering in their angry might,

The fierce and wintry tempests blow; All—from the evening's plaintive sigh,

That hardly lifts the drooping flower, To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry

Breathe forth the language of thy power.

God of the fair and open sky!

How gloriously above us springs The tented dome of heavenly blue,

Suspended on the rainbow's rings! Each brilliant star that sparkles through,

Each gilded cloud, that wanders free In evening's purple radiance, gives

The beauty of its praise to thee.

God of the rolling orbs above!

Thy name is written clearly bright In the warm day's unvarying blaze,

Or evening's golden shower of light. For every fire that fronts the sun,

And every spark that walks alone Around the utmost verge of heaven,

Were kindled at thy burning throne.

God of the world! the hour must come,

And nature's self to dust return;

Her crumbling altars must decay ;

Her incense fires shall cease to burn; But still her grand and lovely scenes

Have made man's warmest praises flow : For hearts grow holier as they trace

The beauty of the world below.

OH, THOU! BEFORE WHOSE RADIANT

SHRINE,

BY MRS. HEMANS.

On, Thou! before whose radiant shrine

Entranced, adoring seraphs bend;
Eternal source of light divine !
Wilt Thou thy hallowed ear incline

And mortal prayer attend ?
Yes, Father! yes, benignant Power!

Around Thee beams fair mercy's purest ray ;
No awsul terrors round Thee lower,
Save when, in judgment's dreaded hour,

Thou bidst creation tremble and obey !

Then, robed in darkness and in clouds,
That solemn veil thy glory shrouds;

Chaos and night thy dark pavilion form ;
Thy spirit on the whirlwind rides,
Impels the unresisting tides,

Glares in the lightning, rushes in the storm!