2. Art thou doomed in a far distant region to roam, To meet the cold gaze of the stranger;

Dost thou yearn for the smiles of the loved ones at home,
While thou pray'st God to shield them from danger?
Ah! the hight of the waters may shadow my form,
Yet soon will the daybreak be dawning;

And thou 'lt mingle once more

With the loved ones on shore

"For we'll all meet again in the morning."

3. Dost thou miss the sweet voice of a fond loving wife,

Whose music brought balm to thy sorrow;

Didst thou see her decline in the sunset of life,

Nor felt one bright hope for the morrow?

O, cheer up, dear brother! the night may be dark,
Yet soon will the daybreak be dawning;

Of all ties bereft,

One hope is still left

"We'll all meet again in the morning."

4. Art thou wearied, O pilgrim, on life's desert waste; Dost thou sigh for the shade of the wild-wood;

Have the world's choicest fruits proved bitter to taste,
And mocked all the dreams of thy childhood?

O, cheer up, poor pilgrim, faint not on thy way,
For soon will the daybreak be dawning;
Then the dreams which have fled,

Shall arise from the dead

"And all will be bright in the morning!"

5. O, servant of Christ! too heavy the cross,
Has thy trust in thy Master been shaken?
In doubt and in darkness thy faith has been lost,
And thou criest, "My God, I'm forsaken!"

But cheer up, dear brother! the night can not last,
And soon will the daybreak be dawning;

Then the trials of earth

We have borne from our birth,

"Will all be made right in the morning!"

H. CLAY PREUSS

H

LXXXII. TELL ME, YE WINGED WINDS.

1. TELL me, ye winged winds,
That round my pathway roar,
Do you not know some spot
Where mortals weep no more?
Some lone and pleasant dell,
Some valley in the west,

Where, free from toil and pain,
The weary soul may rest?

The loud wind softened to a whisper low,
And sighed for pity as it whispered-" No!"

2. Tell me, thou mighty deep,
Whose billows round me play,
Know'st thou some favored spot,
Some island far away,
Where weary man may find
The bliss for which he sighs,
Where sorrow never lives

And friendship never dies?

The loud waves rolling in perpetual flow,
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer-“No!"

3. And thou, serenest moon,

That with such holy face
Dost look upon the earth,
Asleep in night's embrace,
Tell me, in all thy round,
Hast thou not seen some spot,
Where miserable man

Might find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,
And a voice sweet, but sad, responded—“ No !”

4. Tell me, my secret soul,
O tell me, Hope and Faith,
Is there no resting-place
From sorrow, sin, and death?
Is there no happy spot,
Where mortals may be blest

Where grief may find a balm,

And weariness a rest?

Faith, IIcpe, and Love-best boons to mortals given--

Waved their bright wings, and whispered-"Yes! in heaven!"

CHARLES MACKAY.

LXXXIII.-ON A SURVEY OF THE HEAVENS, BEFORE
DAY-BREAK.

1. Yɛ many twinkling stars who yet do hold
Your brilliant places in the sable vault
Of night's dominion-planets, and central orbs
Of other systems; big as the burning sun
Which lights this nether globe, yet to our eye
Small as the glow-worm's lamp! to you I raise
My lowly orisons, while, all bewildered,
My vision strays o'er your ethereal hosts;
Too vast, too boundless for our narrow mind,
Warped with low prejudices, to unfold,

And sagely comprehend-thence higher soaring--
Through ye I raise my solemn thoughts to Him,
The mighty Founder of this wondrous maze,
The great Creator! Him! who now sublime,
Wrapt in the solitary amplitude

Of boundless space, above the rolling spheres
Sits on His silent throne, and meditates.

2. The angelic hosts, in their inferior heaven,
Hymn to the golden harps His praise sublime,
Repeating loud, "The Lord our God is great!"
In varied harmonies: tue glorious sounds
Roll o'er the air serene: the Eolian spheres,
Harping along their viewless boundaries,
Catch the full note, and cry, "The Lord is great!"
Responding to the seraphim. O'er all,

From orb to orb, to the remotest verge
Of the created world, the sound is borne,
Till the whole universe is full of Him.

3. Oh! 'tis this heavenly harmony which now
In fancy strikes upon my listening ear,
And thrills my inmost soul. It bids me smile
On the vain world, and all its bustling cares,
And gives a shadowy glimpse of future bliss,
Oh! what is man, when at ambition's hight—
What even are kings, when balanced in the scale
Of these stupendous worlds? Almighty God!
Thou, the dread Author of these wondrous work!
Say, canst thou cast on me, poor passing worm,
One look of kind benevolence ?-Thou canst;

For Thou art full of universal love,
And in Thy boundless goodness wilt impart
Thy beams as well to me as to the proud,
The pageant insects of a glittering hour.

4. Oh! when reflecting on these truths sublime,
How insignificant do all the joys,

The gauds and honors of the world appear !

How vain ambition! Why has my wakeful lamp
Outwatched the slow-paced night? Why on the page-
The schoolman's labored page-have I employed
The hours devoted by the world to rest,
And needful to recruit exhausted nature?
Say; can the voice of narrow Fame repay
The loss of health? or can the hope of glory
Send a new throb unto my languid heart,
Cool, even now, my feverish aching brow,
Relume the fires of this deep sunken eye,
Or paint new colors on this pallid cheek?

H. K. WHITE.

LXXXIV.-DEFENSE OF PULPIT ELOQUENCE.

1. It is sufficiently evident that eloquence has a strong influence over the minds and passions of men. I do not call the attention of the reader to those compositions which filled Athens with valor, which agitated or calmed, at the will of the orator, the bosoms of a thousand warriors, and which all nations have consented to immortalize. The thunder, which Demosthenes hurled at the head of Philip, continues to roll to the present hour; and his eloquence, stripped as it is of action and utterance, mutilated by time, and enfeebled by translation, is yet powerful enough to kindle in our bosoms, at this remote age, a fire, which the hand of death has extinguished in the hearts of those who were originally addressed! We pass over, also, the eloquence which Cicero poured out, in a torrent so resistless, that the awful senate of Rome could not withstand its force; an eloquence that could break confederacies, disarm forces, control anarchy-an eloquence that years can not impair, age can not weaken, time can not destroy!

2. But we appeal to its influence, in an age et very

remote, nor very unlike the present, in a neighboring country, in the ministerial profession. The name of Massillon was more attractive than all the perfumes that Arabia could furnish; and this was the incense that filled the churches of spiritual Babylon. The theater was forsaken, while the church was crowded; the court forgot their amusements, to attend the preacher; and his spirit-controlling accents drew the monarch from his throne to his feet, stopped the impetuous stream of dissipation, and compelled the mocking world to listen!

3. This is not a picture delineated by fancy, but a representation of facts; and it is well known that no fashionable amusements had attractions when the French bishop was to ascend the pulpit. While he spoke, the king trembled; while he denounced the indignation of God against a corrupted court, nobility shrunk into nothingness; while he described the horrors of a judgment to come, infidelity turned pale, and the congregation, unable to support the thunder of his language, rose from their seats in agony! Let these instances suffice to show the power of eloquence, the influence which language, well chosen, has upon the mind of man, who alone, of all the creatures of God, is able to transmit his thoughts through the medium of speech, to know, to relish, and to use the charms of language.

4. I am well aware that an argument is deduced from the power of eloquence against the use of it in the pulpit. "It is liable to abuse," say they; "it tends to impose upon the understanding, by fascinating the imagination." Most true, it is liable to abuse; and what is there so excellent in its nature that is not? The doctrines of grace have been abused to licentiousness; and the liberty of christianity "used as a cloak of maliciousness." This, however, is no refutation of those doctrines, no argument against that liberty. Because eloquence has been abused, because it has served Anti-Christ, or rendered sin specious, is it, therefore, less excellent in itself? or is it, for that reason, to be rejected from the service of holiness? No; let it be employed in the service of God, and it is directed to its noblest ends; it answers the best of purposes!