What seemed an idol hymn now breathes of Thee,
Tuned by Faith's ear to some celestial melody.

There's not a strain to Memory dear,

Nor flower in classic grove;

There's not a sweet note warbled here,
But minds us of Thy Love;

O Lord, our Lord, and spoiler of our foes,

There is no light but Thine; with Thee all beauty glows.

That thou might'st take thy stand,

Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze,

Thy tranced yet open gaze

Fixed on the desert haze,

As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees.

In outline dim and vast

Their fearful shadows cast

The giant forms of empires on their way

To ruin one by one

They tower, and they are gone,

Yet in the Prophet's soul the dreams of avarice stay.

No sun or star so bright,

In all the world of light,

That they should draw to heaven his downward eye:
He hears the Almighty's word,

He sees the angel's sword,

Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasures lie.

Lo! from yon argent field,

To him and us revealed,

One gentle star glides down, on earth to dwell:

Chained as they are below,

Our eyes may see it glow,

And as it mounts again, may track its brightness well.

To him it glared afar,

A token of wild war,

The banner of his Lord's victorious wrath:

But close to us it gleams,

Its soothing luster streams

Around our home's green walls, and on our church-way path.

We in the tents abide

Which he at distance eyed,

Like distant cedars by the waters spread;

While seven red altar-fires

Rose up in wavy spires,

Where on the mount he watched his sorceries dark and dread.

He watched till morning's ray

On lake and meadow lay,

And willow-shaded streams, that silent sweep

Around the bannered lines,

Where by their several signs

The desert-wearied tribes in sight of Canaan sleep.

He watched till knowledge came

Upon his soul like flame,

Not of those magic fires at random caught:

But true Prophetic light

Flashed o'er him, high and bright,

Flashed once, and died away, and left his darkened thought.

And can he choose but fear,
Who feels his God so near,

That when he fain would curse, his powerless tongue

In blessing only moves?

Alas! the world he loves

Too close around his heart her tangling veil hath flung.

Scepter and Star divine,

Who in Thine inmost shrine

Hast made us worshipers, O claim Thine own;

More than thy seers we know:

O teach our love to grow

Up to Thy heavenly light, and reap what Thou hast sown.

EVENING HYMN.

(From "The Christian Year.")
SUN of my soul, thou Savior dear,
It is not night if thou be near;
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide thee from thy servant's eyes.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My weary eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
Forever on my Savior's breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without thee I cannot live;
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without thee I dare not die.

If some poor wandering child of thine
Have spurned to-day the voice divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin:
Let him no more lie down in sin.

Watch by the sick; enrich the poor
With blessings from thy boundless store;
Be every mourner's sleep to-night
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take,
Till in the ocean of thy love

We lose ourselves in heaven above.

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY.

LESSONS Sweet of spring returning,
Welcome to the thoughtful heart!
May I call ye sense or learning,

Instinct pure, or heaven-taught art?
Be your title what it may,
Sweet the lengthening April day,
While with you the soul is free,

Ranging wild o'er hill and lea.

Soft as Memnon's harp at morning
To the inward ear devout,

Touched by light, with heavenly warning

Your transporting chords ring out.

Every leaf in every nook,

Every wave in every brook,

Chanting with a solemn voice,

Minds us of our better choice.

Needs no show of mountain hoary,
Winding shore or deepening glen,
Where the landscape in its glory

Teaches truth to wandering men:
Give true hearts but earth and sky,
And some flowers to bloom and die,-
Homely scenes and simple views
Lowly thoughts may best infuse.

See the soft green willow springing
Where the waters gently pass,
Every way her free arms flinging

O'er the moss and reedy grass.
Long ere winter blasts are fled,
See her tipped with vernal red,
And her kindly flower displayed
Ere her leaf can cast a shade.

Though the rudest hand assail her,
Patiently she droops awhile,

But when showers and breezes hail her,
Wears again her willing smile.
Thus I learn contentment's power
From the slighted willow bower,
Ready to give thanks and live.
On the least that Heaven may give.
If, the quiet brooklet leaving,
Up the stony vale I wind,
Haply half in fancy grieving
For the shades I leave behind,
By the dusty wayside drear,
Nightingales with joyous cheer
Sing, my sadness to reprove,
Gladlier than in cultured grove.

Where the thickest boughs are twining
Of the greenest, darkest tree,
There they plunge, the light declining;
All may hear, but none may see.
Fearless of the passing hoof,

Hardly will they fleet aloof;

So they live in modest ways,
Trust entire, and ceaseless praise.

CHRIST IN THE GARDEN.

(From "The Christian Year.")

O LORD my God, do thou thy holy will-
I will lie still;

I will not stir, lest I forsake thine arm,
And break the charm

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
In perfect rest.

Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile With thy false smile;

I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
Be silent, Praise,

Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
That hear thy call.

Mortal! if life smile on thee, and thou find
All to thy mind,

Think who did once from heaven to hell descend,
Thee to befriend:

So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call,
Thy best, thine all.

"O Father! not my will, but thine, be done," So spake the Son.

Be this our charm, mellowing earth's ruder noise
Of griefs and joys:

That we may cling forever to Thy breast
In perfect rest!

THE WATERFALL.

(From "Lyra Innocentium.")

MARK how a thousand streams in one

One in a thousand, on they fare

Now flashing in the sun,

Now still as beast in lair.

Now round the rock, now mounting o'er
In lawless dance they win their way,
Still seeming more and more

To swell as we survey.

They rush and roar, they whirl and leap,
Not wilder drives the winter storm;
Yet a strong law they keep,
Strange powers their course inform,
Even so the mighty, sky-born stream:
Its living waters, from above,

All marred and broken seem,
No union and no love.

Yet in dim caves they softly blend
In dreams of mortals unespied:
One is their awful end,

One their unfailing Guide.