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The dew reflects the orient sun,
Whose magic tints to it are given;
Oh! man's fond eye ne'er look'd upon
A fairer earth or brighter heaven!

The morning sun! the morning sun!

Joy wakes to view its glorious spread, When night hath chased the cloud of dun, Whose gloomy folds waved overhead. When nature wakes from soft repose,

While sports young May in earth's green bowers, Joy wakes to breathe the fragrant rose, The woodbine's rich and matchless flowers;

To dash with footfall light away

From the green sward the dews of heaven;
To list the wild birds' varied lay,

While on the breeze their plumes are given.
How blest is joy's o'erflowing heart,
To bask beneath the golden dawn—
To view the sun his light impart

To the bright flowers and dewy lawn!

The dying sun! the dying sun!

How sink its languid rays to rest,
When twilight throws his shroud upon
The pale and melancholy west!
The rose which bloom'd in early May,
Droops now on its deserted stem;
O'er its sere leaves and blighted spray
Pours the night wind its requiem !

The birds which sung in summer's light,
And danced on light and purple wing,

Wake not the tuneless ear of night—

Hush'd is their blithesome carolling!
Their rest is where their song hath been:
They sleep upon each faded flower—
Ah! earth can show no sadder scene
Than meets the eye at twilight's hour!

The dying sun! the dying sun!

Oh! sorrow loves its fading lightIt breathes a kindred glow upon

The breast wrapt in the gloom of night!

Pale sorrow loves the wither'd spray,

The flower o'er which the blight hath pass'd; These speak of rapture pass'd away,

Of cherish'd hours too bright to last!

What though the wild birds' loved retreat
Gives back no more their warblings dear;
The strain of gladness is not meet

For sorrow's lone and tuneless ear!
Better to list the breeze of night

O'er each sere leaf and dying flower;

Ah! sorrow's eye can know no sight

More welcome than pale twilight's hour!

MATTHEW VII. 26, 27.

BUILD'ST thou on Wealth ?-its wings are ever spread
Its trusting votaries to elude and foil;

On Science?-see! his favorite sons have fled
Like the pale lamp that lit their midnight toil,
Forgotten as the flower that deck'd the vernal soil.

Build'st thou on Love?-the simple heart it cheers
When high in health and all around is gay,
Yet leads to folly, vanity, and tears;—

Build'st thou on Fame?-the dancing meteor's ray
Glides not more swift, more unperceived away.

Ah! why on sands like these thy temple rear? How shall its base the storms and billows shun? Seek the Eternal Rock with humble fear,

And on the tablet of each setting sun

Grave with a diamond's point some deed of duty done.

If thou art young-the words of wisdom weigh,
Mature-the gathering ills of life beware,
Aged-0, make His mighty arm thy stay,

Who saves the weakest suppliant from despair,
And bids the darken'd tomb a robe of glory wear.


LORD! who art merciful as well as just,
Incline thine ear to me, a child of dust!
Not what I would, O Lord! I offer thee,
Alas! but what I can.

Father Almighty, who hast made me man,
And bade me look to Heaven, for thou art there,
Accept my sacrifice and humble prayer.
Four things which are not in thy treasury,
I lay before thee, Lord, with this petition :—
My nothingness; my wants;

My sins; and my contrition!





He sung of God, the mighty source
Of all things, the stupendous force

On which all things depend:

From whose right arm

beneath whose eyes,

All period, power and enterprise

Commence, and reign, and end.

The world, the clustering spheres, he made,
The glorious light, the soothing shade,

Dale, champaign, grove and hill;

The multitudinous abyss
Where Secrecy remains in bliss,
And Wisdom hides her skill.

Tell them I AM, Jehovah said
To Moses, while earth heard in dread,
And, smitten to the heart,
At once above, beneath, around,
All nature, without voice or sound,
Replied, O Lord, THOU ART.


He who delights to trace, with serious thought,
In all he sees the noiseless steps of TIME,
Shall find the outward forms of Nature fraught
With ample food for many a lofty rhyme;
Or should he fear such dazzling heights to climb,
And love to tread a less aspiring way,
Leaving untouch'd the awful and sublime,
And seeking humbler objects to portray,

May find in such the theme of many a pleasing lay.

What though the glorious Sun, enthroned on high,
May more conspicuously this lesson teach;
Or Moon and Stars, which gem the midnight sky,
A yet more touching homily may preach,

As day to day still utters ceaseless speech,

And night to night yet added knowledge shows,— Far lowlier objects to the heart may reach, And Wisdom purest precepts may disclose,

Cull'd from the Lily's bloom, or gather'd from the Rose!

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