The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise,
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.

Awake, awake! and gird up thy strength,
To join that holy band at length!
To him who unceasing love displays,

Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise, –
To him thy heart and thy hours be given;
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven.

1826.

HYMN.

For an ordination, March, 1829.

THOU, who on thy chosen Son
Didst send thy Spirit like a dove,

To mark the long expected One,
And seal the Messenger of love;

And, when the heralds of his name

Went forth his glorious truth to spread,
Didst send it down in tongues of flame
To hallow each devoted head,

So, Lord, thy servant now inspire
With holy unction from above;
Give him the tongue of living fire,
Give him the temper of the dove.

Lord, hear thy suppliant church to-day!
Accept our work, our souls possess.
'Tis ours to labor, watch, and pray ;

Be thine to cheer, sustain, and bless.

THE GOD OF OUR FATHERS.

For the Centennial Celebration of the Boston Thursday Lecture, Oct. 17, 1833.

L

IKE Israel's hosts to exile driven,

Across the flood the Pilgrims fled;
Their hands bore up the ark of Heaven,
And Heaven their trusting footsteps led,
Till on these savage shores they trod,
And won the wilderness for God.

Then, where their weary ark found rest.
Another Zion proudly grew,
In more than Judah's glory dressed,
With light that Israel never knew.
From sea to sea her empire spread,
Her temple heaven, and Christ her head.

Then let the grateful church, to-day,

Its ancient rite with gladness keep:
Our fathers' God! their children pray

Thy blessing, though the fathers sleep.
Oh, bless, as thou hast blessed the past,
While earth, and time, and heaven shall last!

FAMILY MEETING.

Aug. 20, 1835.

N this glad hour, when children meet,

IN

And home with them their children bring,

Our hearts with one affection beat,

One song of praise our voices sing.

For all the faithful, loved and dear,
Whom thou so kindly, Lord, hast given;

For those who still are with us here,

And those who wait for us in heaven ;·

For every past and present joy,

For honor, competence, and health,
For hopes which time may not destroy,
Our souls' imperishable wealth:
:-
For all, accept our humble praise;
Still bless us, Father, by thy love;
And when are closed our mortal days,
Unite us in one home above.

March, 1836.

HYMN IN SICKNESS.

FATHER, thy gentle chastisement

Falls kindly on my burdened soul;

I see its merciful intent,

To warn me back to thy control,
And pray that, while I kiss the rod,
I may find perfect peace with God.

The errors of my heart I know;

I feel my deep infirmities;
For, often, virtuous feelings glow,

And holy purposes arise,

But, like the morning clouds, decay,
As empty, though as fair, as they.
Forgive the weakness I deplore,

And let thy peace abound in me,
That I may trust my heart no more,
But wholly cast myself on thee.
Oh, let my Father's strength be mine,
And my devoted life be thine!

HYMN.

For the dedication of a church, April, 1839.

E rear not a temple, like Judah's of old,

WE

Whose portals were marble, whose vaultings were gold;

No incense is lighted, no victims are slain,

No monarch kneels praying to hallow the fane.

More simple and lowly the walls that we raise,
And humbler the pomp of procession and praise,

Where the heart is the altar whence incense shall roll,
And Messiah the King who shall pray for the soul.

O Father, come in! but not in the cloud

Which filled the bright courts where thy chosen ones bowed;

But come in that spirit of glory and grace

Which beams on the soul and illumines the race.

Oh, come in the power of thy life-giving Word,
And reveal to each heart its Redeemer and Lord;
Till Faith bring the peace to the penitent given,
And Love fill the air with the fragrance of heaven.

The pomp of Moriah has long passed away,
And soon shall our frailer erection decay;

But the souls that are builded in worship and love
Shall be temples to God, everlasting above.

THE PROGRESS OF FREEDOM.

This "Anti-Slavery Song" has for us a peculiar interest, not alone from the thrilling spirit of power and prophecy that animates it, but from the circumstance that it was Mr. Ware's last composition in verse. It bears the date, March 15, 1843. In its original form it is longer than as presented here, aud is unsuited to a church hymn-book. The following stanzas, taken from one of the Collections, are a part of the original, altered and transposed, and thus adapted to sacred worship:

OPPRESSION shall not always reign;

There comes a brighter day,

When Freedom, burst from every chain,
Shall have triumphant way.

Then Right shall over might prevail,

And Truth, like hero armed in mail,
The hosts of tyrant wrong assail,
And hold eternal sway.

What voice shall bid the progress stay,

Of truth's victorious car?

What arm arrest the growing day,

Or quench the solar star?

What reckless soul, though stout and strong,
Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong,
Oppression's guilty night prolong,
And freedom's morning bar?

The hour of triumph comes apace,
The fated, promised hour,
When earth upon a ransomed race

Her bounteous gifts shall shower.
Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell!
Bid high thy sacred banner swell!
Let trump on trump the triumph tell
Of Heaven's redeeming power.

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.

(1794.)

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT was born, Nov. 3, 1794, at Cummington, Hampton County, Mass. It is only necessary here to present the merest outline of the career of this venerable and beloved poet, whose name is a household word in the homes of the land. His father, Peter Bryant, was a physician, well-travelled and highly cultured, who knew how to awaken and call forth the mental powers of the gifted son. The latter, before he was ten years of age, wrote lines which were published in the County Gazette. Other poems, which he composed not long afterward, were printed by his friends; and when he was only eighteen he wrote his immortal "Thanatopsis," which appeared in the "North American Review" in 1817. For two years he was a student at Williams College; then studied law, and, first at Plainfield and next at Great Barrington, practised his profession until 1825, when he removed to New York, and became the editor of the "New York Review." In 1826 he associated himself with William Coleman in conducting the "Evening Post,” and in the following year assumed its entire editorial charge. He has continued at this post of service from then until now.

The first volume of his poems, embracing one on "The Ages," delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, and also some other pieces, was published in 1821. From 1827 to 1830 he was one of the editors of an annual, "The Talisman," and, about the same time,