SINCE FIRST THY WORD.

AIR.-Nicholas Freeman.

I.

SINCE first thy word awaked my heart,
Like new life dawning o'er me,
Where'er I turn mine eyes, Thoù art,
All light and love before me.
Nought else I feel, or hear or see—
All bonds of earth I sever-

Thee, oh God, and only Thee
I live for, now and ever.

II.

Like him, whose fetters dropp'd away
When light shone o'er his prison,*
My spirit, touch'd by Mercy's ray,
Hath from her chains arisen.

And shall a soul Thou bidst be free,
Return to bondage ?—never !
Thee, oh God, and only Thee

I live for, now and ever.

* "And, behold, the angel of the Lord came upon him, and a light shined in the prison, and his chains fell off from his hands."-Acts, xii. 7. '

HARK! "TIS THE BREEZE.

AIR.-Rousseau.

I.

HARK! 'tis the breeze of twilight calling
Earth's weary children to repose ;
While, round the couch of Nature falling,
Gently the night's soft curtains close.
Soon o'er a world, in sleep reclining,
Numberless stars, through yonder dark,
Shall look, like eyes of Cherubs shining
From out the veils that hid the Ark!

II.

Guard us, oh Thou, who never sleepest, Thou who, in silence throned above, Throughout all time, unwearied, keepest Thy watch of Glory, Pow'r, and Love. Grant that, beneath thine eye, securely

Our souls, awhile from life withdrawn, May, in their darkness, stilly, purely,

Like "sealed fountains," rest till dawn.

WHERE IS YOUR DWELLING, YE SAINTED?

AIR. Hasse.

I.

WHERE is your dwelling, ye Sainted?
Through what Elysium more bright
Than fancy or hope ever painted,
Walk ye in glory and light?
Who the same kingdom inherits?
Breathes there a soul that may

Look to that world of Spirits?

dare

Or hope to dwell with you there?

II.

Sages who, ev'n in exploring

Nature through all her bright ways,
Went, like the Seraphs, adoring,
And veil'd your eyes in the blaze-
Martyrs, who left for our reaping

blood

Truths you had sown in your Sinners, whom long years of weeping

Chasten'd from evil to good

III.

Maidens who, like the young Crescent,
Turning away your pale brows

From earth, and the light of the Present,
Look'd to your Heavenly Spouse-
Say, through what region enchanted
Walk ye, in Heaven's sweet air?

Or, oh, to whom is it granted,

Bright souls, to dwell with you there?

HOW LIGHTLY MOUNTS THE MUSE'S WING.

AIR.-Anonymous.

I.

How lightly mounts the Muse's wing,
Whose theme is in the skies-

Like morning larks, that sweeter sing
The nearer Heav'n they rise!

II.

Though Love his wreathed lyre may tune,

Yet ah! the flow'rs he round it wreathes Were pluck'd beneath pale Passion's moon, Whose madness from their odour breathes. How purer far the sacred lute,

Round which Devotion ties

Sweet flow'rs that turn to heav'nly fruit,

And palm that never dies.

III.

Though War's high-sounding harp may be

Most welcome to the hero's ears,

Alas, his chords of victory

Are bathed, all o'er, with tears.

How far more sweet their numbers run,
Who hymn, like Saints above,
No victor, but th' Eternal One,
No trophies but of Love!