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Of his own darksome thoughts, like the gross worm
That spins itself a blinding panoply

From its own entrails, gropes along in dull
And dark fatuity; or stirr'd by strife,

Convulsion, and fierce throes of boiling blood,
Scorns heaven and earth, defies the tempest's wrath,
Calls nature, and great nature's GOD-a liar.

Yet, Holy Father, thou canst still subdue
All things unto thyself-beyond the yell
Of human tumult, and distraction wild,

And where fierce passions glow, and fury's eye-ball
Dare not intrude, thou sittest all enthroned
In love, and lookest still with pitying eye
On the rude scene around the struggling soul,
And fain would make it like the cloudless sky,
That near thy throne is daily all serene,
Though writhing lightnings sting the nether air,
And the deep thunder rolls-from all the storms
Of bickering life; and oh! those quaking throes
With which weak flesh in strange convulsion teems,
And the gross fiery particles that move

Our smouldering dust, canst save us, and canst wake

The halcyon note of holy peace within us;
That the heart's blood, which, like a heaving sea,
Doth seem to rise and smite the very heavens
In wild and drunken levity, may fall,

And "PEACE! BE STILL!" yet teach it to subside,
Till far expanded, like a mirror pure,

It shows thy glorious presence, beaming fair,
Like the bright sun upon the ocean's calm.

W. MARTIN.

F

66

THE DIVINE LOVE.

SPIRIT of love! Spirit of love!-the soul
Of Deity on earth :-the soul of soul,
And essence of the universal weal;
Encompassing, pervading, binding all
The elements in one harmonious law
Of beauty and sublimity. Twas thou,
Bright aspect of the Holy One, didst move
Upon the dark chaotic waters, ere

Matter caught glory from the golden sun;
And beauty sprung in rapture from the deep,
With the new earth, all smiles: while all the host
Of heaven, the stars, the planets, and the range
Of suns unnumber'd sung for very joy,
And mingled with the everlasting spheres
Triumphant melody. Yes, it is love,

Boundless, eternal love, that springs from Thee,
Almighty Father, on the ruddy wings

Of morning, with the blithe young lark in joy;
Or on the evening's tranquil holiness,
Giving the parting, fascinating beam

Of the bright sun a milder charm, and pouring
To the wrong'd heart a balm, and to the spirit
Thoughts that eternity cannot annul.

The depths of nature, and the womb of earth,
The peerless blue of heaven, in which the soul
Expands as doth the circle in the lake,
All eager to embrace infinity-the stars
That draw us proudly to their vestal heights,

As the bright glow-worm wins her wandering mate,
Give forth their everlasting tokens still

Of love and all that shed a fragrance on

The gentle gales of spring, and all that give

Their virgin blossoms to the summer sun,
From that meek flower, low hidden in the sod,
That lifts a sky-blue eye to gaze at heaven
In heaven's own likeness, to the lofty pines
Which tune great nature's ever-living lyre,
To listening lowlands, from the rugged tops
Of mountains where the eagle builds her nest,
Above the range of thunder. Ocean, thou
On whose dark emerald breast, sparkling with gold,
The sun-beam wantons with the dolphin,-Earth,
Sending up incense in the rosy cloud,

And rapture on the gale,—do ye not speak

Of boundless, deathless love, throughout the whole
Of your vast stories?-and thou, fond soul of man,
Although confined in this cold prison house
Of sluggish clay,-thou too canst speak of love,
From all those powers of high capacity,
Those deep perceptions of the beautiful,

And those high efforts which give out the blaze
Of latent immortality within us,

As the dull stone, when smote, its hidden fire:
But most when contemplating, in a high
And holy ecstasy, that work of love,
Which calls thee to a forfeited estate,
And opens wide heaven's portals to restore
Thee to the bosom of thy God.

W. MARTIN.

CHRIST OUR CONFIDENCE.

LORD of life! we shame inherit;
We are bound who once were free
We have neither praise nor merit,
All our hope is placed in thee;

Oft on reeds have we depended,
And some idol still adored;
Yet hast thou our souls befriended,
And the wandering sheep restored.

We too oft have found our weakness,
Lord, we covet strength divine;
May we grow in love and meekness;
Let thine image in us shine;
Wean our spirits from the creature,
All below is little worth:

Fix them on the Great Creator,
And on thee, the Hope of Earth.

Saviour! by thy blood and passion,
With thy favour, full and free,
View us with thine own compassion,
Tenderness belongs to thee;
Let us not augment the banish'd!
On our hearts thy grace distil;
And, when earth and time have vanish'd,
Take us to thy holy hill!

GOD'S LOVE.

My God! thy boundless love I praise;
How bright on high its glories blaze!
How sweetly bloom below!

It streams from thine eternal throne,
Through heaven its joys for ever run,
And o'er the earth they flow.

"Tis love that paints the purple morn,
And bids the clouds in air upborne
Their genial drops distil;

In every vernal beam it glows,
And breathes in every gale that blows,
And glides in every rill.

It robes in cheerful green the ground,
And pours its flowery beauties round,
Whose sweets perfume the gale;
Its bounties richly spread the plain,
The blushing fruit, the golden grain,
And smile on every vale.

But in thy Gospel see it shine
With grace and glories more divine,
Proclaiming sins forgiven;

There Faith, bright cherub, points the way To realms of everlasting day,

And opens all her heaven.

Then let the love that makes me blest,
With cheerful praise inspire my breast,
And ardent gratitude;

And all my thoughts and passions tend
To thee, my Father, and my Friend,
My soul's eternal good.

Dart from thine own celestial flame
One vivid beam to warm my frame
With kindred energy;

Mark thine own image on my mind;
And teach me to be good and kind,
And love and bless like thee!

HENRY MOORE.

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