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Come gracious Influence, breath of the Lord !
And touch me trembling, as thou touch'd the man
Greatly beloved, when he in vision saw
By Ula's stream the Ancient sit; and talked
With Gabriel, to his prayer swiftly sent
At evening sacrifice. Hold my right hand ;
Almighty! hear me, for I ask through him
Whom thou hast heard, whom thou wilt always

hear,-
Thy Son, our interceding, great High Priest !”

He who took our nature upon him, suffered death upon the cross for our redemption, who by his death destroyed death, and by his rising to life again hath restored to us everlasting life. Therefore, O God, most holy, O God, most just, O God, most merciful, with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, I laud and magnify thy glorious name, evermore, (as is most due,) praising thee and saying, Holy, holy, holy Lord God of hosts, heaven and earth are full of thy glory. Glory be to thee, O Lord most high. Amen.

MUSINGS ON THE PAST.

They have not perished, -No. Kind words, remember'd voices, once so sweet,

Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat

All shall come back! Each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again. Alone shall evil die.

HEMANS.

True, all things pass away,
But past things are not dead.
In the heart's treasury,
Instinct, they hidden lie

Unwithered!

And there the soul retires,
From the vain things that are,
To mingle oft and long
With the time-hallow'd throng

Of those that were !

Then into life burst out
The scenes long vanished.
Then we behold again
The forms that long have lain

Among the dead!

We seek their grasp of love,
We meet their beaming eye,
We speak—the vision's flown,
Dissolving with its own

Intensity !

Look

up,
look

up, my soul,
To loftier mysteries ;
Trust in his word to thee,
Who saith, “ All tears shall be

Wip'd from all eyes.”

And when thou turnest back,
(Oh, what can chain thee here,)
Seek out the isles of light,
On memory's waste yet bright;

Or, if too near

To desolate plains they lie, All dark with guilt and tears, Still, still retrace the past, Till thou alight'st at last

On life's first years.

There not a passing cloud
Obscures the morning scene;
No blight on the young tree,
No thought of what

may

be Or what hath been.

There all is hope—not hope,
For all things are possest ;
Yes, bliss without alloy,
Simplicity and joy,

Cheer the young breast.

Then on what is I deeply muse
No more in young delight;
But patient, grateful, well-assured,
Whatever sorrows are endured,

All, all is just and right.

Then clouds dispel, dark shadows flee,
The sun of joy breaks out,
And love, and hope, and gratitude,
Chase far away the gloomy mood

Of darkness and of doubt.

I feel that all is in his hand,
(Ah who would take it thence?)
Whose love divine protects me still-
Give me not up to mine own will,

Merciful Providence !

Such thought, when other thoughts perchance

Are darkening into gloom, Comes to me like the angel form, That radiant shone mid death's dark storm,

And, standing by the tomb,

Cheer'd those who came to sorrow there ;

And then I see and bless That mercy daily which unfolds His love in all that he withholds,

And all that I possess.

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