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In heaven again shall waken,
And repossess the heart.

The harps of heaven steal o'er me,
I see the jasper wall,-
Jesus, who pass'd before me,
And God, the Judge of all!

So

sang

the parting spirit,

While round flow'd many a tear,
Then spread her wings, to inherit
Her throne in yonder sphere.

THE SILENT EXPRESSION OF NATURE.

"There is no speech nor language-their voice is not heard."

PSALM Xix. 3.

WHEN, thoughtful, to the vault of heaven

I lift my wondering eyes,
And see the clear and quiet even

To night resign the skies,—
The moon, in silence, rear her crest,
The stars, in silence, shine,-

A secret rapture fills my breast,
That speaks its birth divine.

Unheard, the dews around me fall,
And heavenly influence shed,
And, silent on this earthly ball,
Celestial footsteps tread.
Aerial music wakes the spheres,
Touch'd by harmonious powers:

With sounds unheard by mortal ears,
They charm the lingering hours.

Night reigns, in silence, o'er the pole,
And spreads her gems unheard;
Her lessons penetrate the soul,
Yet borrow not a word.
Noiseless the sun emits his fire,

And pours his golden streams;
And silently the shades retire
Before his rising beams.

The hand that moves, and regulates,
And guides the vast machine,—
That governs wills, and times, and fates,
Retires, and works unseen.
Angelic visitants forsake

Their amaranthine bowers;

On silent wing their station take,

And watch the allotted hours.

Sick of the vanity of man,

His noise, and pomp, and show,—
I'll move upon great Nature's plan,
And, silent, work below.
With inward harmony of soul,

I'll wait the upper sphere;
Shining, I'll mount above the pole,
And break my silence there.

LIFE AND DEATH.

O FEAR not thou to die!

But rather fear to live; for life
Has thousand snares thy feet to try,
By peril, pain, and strife.
Brief is the work of death;

But life!—the spirit shrinks to see How full, ere Heaven recalls the breath, The cup of wo may be.

O fear not thou to die!

No more to suffer or to sin;

No snares without, thy faith to try,

No traitor heart within:

But fear, O! rather fear,

The gay, the light, the changeful scene, The flattering smiles that greet thee here, From heaven thy heart to wean.

Fear, lest, in evil hour,—

Thy pure and holy hope o'ercome
By clouds that in the horizon lower,-
Thy spirit feel that gloom,
Which, over earth and heaven,

The covering throws of fell despair;

And deems itself the unforgiven,
Predestined child of care.

O fear not thou to die!

To die, and be that blessed one,
Who, in the bright and beauteous sky,
May feel his conflict done-

May feel that never more

The tear of grief or shame shall come,
For thousand wanderings from the Power
Who loved and call'd him home!

THE SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.

WARRIORS and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
Pierce me in leading the hosts of the Lord,

Heed not the corse, though a king's in your path,
Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!

Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,
Should the soldiers of Saul turn away from the foe,
Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet!
Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet!

Farewell to others! but never we part,
Heir to my royalty! son of my heart!
Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway,
Or kingly the death which, awaits us to-day!

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.

THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars in the sea When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset was seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed on the face of the foe as he past;
And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew

still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal,
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow at the glance of the Lord!

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