The warder at his door the key applies,

Shoots back the bolt, and all his courage dies;
If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lost,
When Hope, long lingering, at last yields the ghost,
The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear,
He drops at once his fetters and his fear;
A transport glows in all he looks and speaks,
And the first thankful tears bedew his cheeks.
Joy, far superior joy, that much outweighs
The comfort of a few poor added days,
Invades, possesses, and o'erwhelms the soul
Of him, whom Hope has with a touch made whole.
'Tis Heav'n, all Heav'n descending on the wings
Of the glad legions of the King of kings;

'Tis more- -'tis God diffus'd through ev'ry part,— 'Tis God himself triumphant in the heart.

3. Joy at a Father's Return.

Slowly the melancholy day

In cloud and storm pass'd o'er ; Fearful and wild the tall ships lay

Off the rude Northumbrian shore;

Cowper.

'Mid the thunder's crash, and the lightning's ray,

And the dashing ocean's roar.

And many a father's heart beat high
With an aching fear of woe,

As he gaz'd upon the ghastly sky,
And heard the tempest blow;
Or watch'd with sad and anxious eye,
The warring waves below!

Oh! many a mournful mother wept;
And closer, fonder prest

The babe, that soft and sweetly slept
Upon her troubled breast;

While every hour that lingering crept,
Her agonies confest!

And one upon the couch was laid,
In deep and helpless pain;

Two children sought her side, and played,
And strove to cheer-in vain :
Till breathlessly, and half afraid,

They listened to the rain.

"'Tis a rough sea your father braves!"
The afflicted mother said;

'Pray that the Holy Arm that saves,
May guard his precious head!-
May shield him from the wrecking waves,
To aid you-when I'm dead!"
Then low the children bended there,
With clasped hands, to implore
That God would save them from despair,
And their loved sire restore :-
And the heavens heard that quiet prayer,
'Mid all the tempest's roar !
'Twas eve and cloudlessly at last,
The sky in beauty gleamed!

O'er snowy sail and lofty mast
The painted pennon streamed ;
The danger and the gloom had past,
Like horrors-only dreamed !
Swift to the desolated beach

The Fisher's children hied;

But far as human sight could reach,

No boat swept o'er the tide!

Still on they watched-and with sweet speech, To banish grief they tried!

Long, long they sat-when lo! a light

And distant speck was seen,

Small as the smallest star of night,

When night is most serene!

But to the Fisher's boy that sight
A sight of bliss had been!

"It comes!" he cried, "our father's boat!
See!-sister-by yon stone !

Not there not there still more remote,-
I know the sail's our own!

Look !-look again !—they nearer float!
Thanks!-thanks to God alone!"

Four happy, grateful hearts were those
That met at even-fall;

The mother half forgot her woes,

And kissed and blessed them all!

"Praised! praised!" she said, "be He who shows Sweet mercy when we call!"

C. Swain.

4. Angels Rejoicing at the Saviour's Birth.
Oh! never, never since we came
On wing of light, and form of flame;
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, undefiled,

By ages visioned, doomed 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!
Peace on earth! to man good-will!
Let the skies our anthem fill!

R. Montgomery.

5. Ecstacy, or Joy in Heavenly Bliss,
(The Dying Christian to his Soul.)
Vital spark of heavenly flame,
Quit, oh! quit this mortal frame?
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,
Oh! the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say-
"Sister spirit, come away!"
What is this absorbs me quite ?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight?—
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be Death?
The world recedes! it disappears!
Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?

O Death! where is my sting?

Pope.

CHAPTER IV.-Passions, with Mental Distress. Passions of this class frequently involve great poignancy of feeling. In reading, they require those subdued tones which indicate strong mental emotion, and, in general, a predominance of the monotone. They may be represented by Shame, Fear, Grief, Remorse and Despair.

(1.) SHAME.

1. Coriolanus, ashamed of Public Praise. No more of this! it doth offend my heart ;Pray now, no more. Your honour's pardon; I had rather have my wounds to heal again, Than hear say how I got them; for oft

When blows have made me stay, I fled from words— You soothe not; therefore hurt not:—

I had rather have one scratch my head i' the sun,

When the alarum were struck, than idly sit
To hear my nothings monstered.

Also

I beseech you, let me o'erleap the custom
That I do speak to the people; for I cannot
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat them,
For my wounds' sake, to give their suffrage.
That I may pass this doing. It is a part
That I shall blush in acting.

Please you

Shakspeare.

8. The Shame of Adam and Eve, after their Fall. Now from his presence hid themselves among The thickest trees, both man and wife ;-till God Approaching, thus to Adam call'd aloud:

"Where art thou, Adam, wont with joy to meet My coming seen from far? I miss thee here; Come forth."

He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though first T' offend,-discountenanc'd both, and discompos'd: Love was not in their looks, either to God

Or to each other, but apparent guilt,

And shame.

Whence Adam falt'ring long, then answer'd brief:-
"I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice
Afraid, being naked, hid myself." To whom
The gracious Judge without revile reply'd:—
"My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd,
But still rejoic'd: how is it now become

So dreadful to thee? Thou art naked! who
Hath told thee? Hast thou eaten of the tree,
Whereof I gave thee charge thou should'st not eat?"
To whom thus Adam sore beset reply'd :-

66

"O Heav'n! in evil strait this day I stand

Before my Judge, either to undergo

Myself the total crime, or to accuse
My other self, the partner of my life.—

This woman, whom thou mad'st to be my help,
And gave me as thy perfect gift, so good,

G