HYMN OF PRAISE.

BY CARLOS WILCOX.

[Born at Newport, October 22, 1794. Died at Hartford, Connecticut, May 29, 1827.]

GREAT is thy goodness, Father of all life,
Fount of all joy. Thou high and holy One,
Whom not thy glorious sanctuary, heaven,
Can e'er contain; Spirit invisible,

Whose omnipresence makes creation smile,
Great is thy goodness, worthy of all praise
From all thy works. Then let earth, air, and sea;
Nature, with every season in its turn;

The firmament, with its revolving fires;

And all things living; join to give thee praise.
Thou glorious Sun, like thy Original,

A vital influence to surrounding worlds,
Forever sending forth, yet always full;

And thou, fair Queen of Night, o'er the pure sky,
Amid thy glittering company

of stars,

Walking in brightness, praise the God above.
Ocean, forever rolling to and fro

In thy vast bed, o'er half the hollowed earth;
Grand theatre of wonders to all lands,

And reservoir of blessings, sound his praise.
Break forth into a shout of grateful joy,
Ye mountains, covered with perennial green,
And pouring crystal torrents down your sides;
Ye lofty forests, and ye humble groves;
Ye hills, and plains, and valleys, overspread

With flocks and harvests. All ye feathered tribes,
That, taught by your Creator, a safe retreat
Find in the dead of winter, or enjoy

Sweet summer all your days by changing clime,
Warble to him all your melodious notes;
To him, who clothes you with your gay attire,
And kindles in your fluttering breasts the glow
Of love parental. Beasts that graze the fields,
Or roam the woods, give honor to the Power
That makes you swift to flee, or strong to meet
The coming foe; and rouses you to flight
In harmless mirth, or soothes to pleasant rest.
Shout to Jehovah with the voice of praise,
Ye nations, all ye continents and isles,

People of every tongue; ye that within
The verdant shade of palm and plantain sit,
Feasting on their cool fruit, on torrid plains;
And ye that, in the midst of pine-clad hills,
In snowy regions, grateful vigor inhale
From every breeze. Ye that inhabit lands
Where science, liberty, and plenty dwell,
Worship Jehovah in exalted strains.
But ye to whom redeeming Mercy comes,
With present peace, and promises sublime
Of future crowns, and mansions in the skies,
Imperishable, raise the loudest song.
O sing for ever, with seraphic voice,
To Him whose immortality is yours,
In the blest union of eternal love!

And join them, all ye winged hosts of heaven,
That in your Maker's glory take delight;
And ye too, all ye bright inhabitants
Of starry worlds; and let the universe
Above, below, around, be filled with praise!

MAUVAISE HONTE.

BY OLIVER W. B. PEABODY.

IN your manhood's gravest hour,
As in childhood's season gay,

Shall the spell of fatal power

Close around you, night and day.

Wealth may throw its garlands o'er you, Beauty's charms be bright before you; Yet unenvied shall you dwell,

Fettered by a magic spell.

In the ball-room you shall sigh,
Losing all your power to frisk,
As the victim of his eye

Stands before the basilisk.
When the jewelled circle glances,
Mingling in the mazy dances,
Pompey's pillar might as soon
Right-and-left or rigadoon.

Every moment to your cheek

Shall the blood in torrents rush; Oft as you essay to speak,

You shall stammer, stare and blush; What you would have said, delaying, What you should not, ever saying; While each friend in wonder sits, Mourning your departed wits.

When in love, you shall seem cold
As the rocks on Zembla's coast :

When you labor to be bold,

Sparrows might more courage boast. When most gay, most solemn seeming; When attentive, as if dreaming:

Niobé could teach you how

You might make a better bow.

Ask me not to break the chain,
Never! slave of destiny:
Evermore you must remain
Fixed-beyond the power to fly.
Darker hours may yet attend you;
Fate a heavier lot may send you;
If my spells should fail to kill,
Go and marry if you will.

MOUNTAINS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

BY ISAAC HILL.

THE highest mountains within the known limits of the old thirteen United States are the cluster in New Hampshire called the White Mountains. These mountains are supposed to be older than any of the ranges of high mountains in Europe. Mont Blanc and Mont St. Bernard may peer above them, and reach their tops beyond the line of perpetual congelation; but Mount Washington had been thousands. of years in existence before the internal fires upheaved the European Alps.

Of the useless things in creation, I had taught myself in early youth to consider ragged mountains and hills as least of all valuable. Fastnesses for the retreat of wild beasts, my first recollections almost identify them with the frightful catamount that tore in pieces the man whom he was able to carry into the limbs of some tree incumbent upon another half way in its fall; with the bear, who was said to carry off children with which to feed her young; or with the voracious wolf, who would slay an entire flock of sheep sometimes in a single night. If these mountains were no longer a nuisance as harbors for wild beasts, the obstacles which they presented to the making of good and easy travelled roads connecting one part of the country with another; the space which they occupied precluding that easy cultivation which we were wont to see in more level regions, gave them no better aspect than that of incumbrances which must forever be inconvenient to the population which surrounded them.

I have changed my mind entirely on this matter; and if we may be said to grow wiser as we grow older, I have just that kind of conceit of myself which might call for your re

MOUNTAINS OF NEW HAMPSHIRE.

73

buke if I am now under a mistake. Perhaps you think of these mountains as I once thought of them. With me when a child stubbing my toes against the rocks or carrying some burden up the steep cliffs, having dreamed of the beauty of a level country where there was not a rock or a hill in the way, you may have been instructed into a poor opinion of

our mountains.

The mountain region of New England is almost entirely free from those contagious diseases which sweep over the country at each annual return of decayed vegetation. The pure water and the clear mountain air give to her inhabitants as good if not better health than is enjoyed by any other people on earth. This is the land of iron constitutions, of noble and beautiful forms, of hearts of steel, of boundless resolution that heeds no obstacle, of enterprise and perseverance which know no discouragement. What part of the United States, what city upon the Atlantic seaboard, what district of country growing into wealth and respectability in the interior, that is not indebted to New England, to the beautiful hill country of New England, for much of that noble spirit which has hastened them on in the grand march of improvement?

I have entirely changed my mind within the last few years in relation to the most rough country of New England. So far from looking upon the rocks, the pebbles, the gravel or the sand composing them as so much matter in the way adapted to no possible useful service, I see them as the sources of that fertility which is sooner or later destined to make the territory now composing the six New-England States capable of sustaining ten times its present population.

On the higher White Mountains no traces of the valuable and useful metals, as yet, have been discovered upon the surface or in the beds excavated by the avalanches. The Indians had a tradition that there were carbuncles and precious gems upon the open grounds of the mountains above the region of vegetation, which were kept from the possession of mortals by the enchantment which surrounded them.