Such is the smile that piety bestows

On the good man's pale cheek, when he, in peace Departing gently from a world of woes,

Anticipates the world where sorrows cease.

ROBERT SOUTHEY, 1774-1843.

HALLOWED BE THY NAME.

LIST to the dreamy tone that dwells
In rippling wave or sighing tree;
Go, hearken to the old church bells,

The whistling bird, the humming bee;
Interpret right, and ye will find

'Tis "power and glory" they proclaim: The chimes, the creatures, waters, wind,

All publish, "Hallow'd be Thy name!"

The pilgrim journeys till he bleeds,
To gain the altar of his sires;
The hermit pores above his beads,
With zeal that never wanes nor tires;

But holiest rite or longest prayer

That soul can yield or wisdom frame, What better import can it bear,

Than "Father! hallow'd be Thy name!"

The savage kneeling to the sun,

To give his thanks or ask a boon,The raptures of the idiot one,

Who laughs to see the clear round moon,— The saint well taught in Christian lore,

The Moslem prostrate at his flame,All worship, wonder, and adore,—

All end in "Hallow'd be Thy name!"

Whate'er may be man's faith or creed,
Those precious words comprise it still;
We trace them on the bloomy mead,
We hear them in the flowing rill.
One chorus hails the Great Supreme,
Each varied breathing tells the same.
The strains may differ; but the theme
Is "Father! hallow'd be Thy name!"

ELIZA COOK.

MORNING MEDITATIONS.

O'ER the broad earth yon torch of heavenly light
Its splendour spreads, and God's proud works unveils ;
My soul, enraptured at the marvellous sight,
Unwonted peace and joy and wonder feels,
And with uplifted thoughts of ecstasy

Exclaims, "How great must their Creator be!"

Oh, if a mortal's power could stretch so high-
If mortal sight could reach that glorious sun,
And look undazzled at its majesty,

'Twould seem a fiery ocean burning on
From time's first birth, whose ever-flaming ray
Could ne'er extinguish'd be by time's decay..

But in Thy presence all is but a spark,
A little spark that wondrous orb was lighted
By Thy own hand, the dreary and the dark
Pathway of man to cheer,-of man benighted;
To guide the march of seasons in their way,
And place us in a paradise of day.

Dull Night her sceptre sways o'er plains and hills,
O'er the dark forest and the foaming sea;

Thy wondrous energy all nature fills,

And leads our thoughts, and leads our hopes to Thee. "How great is God!" a million tongues repeat, And million tongues re-echo, "God how great!"

But now again the day-star bursts the gloom,
Scattering its sunshine o'er the opening sky;
Thy eye, that pierces even through the tomb,
Has chased the clouds, has bid the vapours fly;
And smiles of light, descending from above,

Bathe all the universe with joy and love.

SIR JOHN BOWRING.

-Russian of Lomonossov.

THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.

FATHER of all! in every age,

In every clime adored,

By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Thou Great First Cause, least understood,

Who all my sense confined,

To know but this, that Thou art good,
And that myself am blind;

Yet gave me, in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill ;
And binding Nature fast in Fate,

Left free the human will.

What conscience dictates to be done,

Or warns me not to do,

This, teach me more than hell to shun,
That, more than heaven pursue.

What blessings Thy free bounty gives,
Let me not cast away;

For God is paid when man receives,-
To enjoy is to obey.

Yet not to Earth's contracted span
Thy goodness let me bound,
Or think Thee Lord alone of Man,
When thousand worlds are round:

Let not this weak, unknowing hand
Presume Thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land,
On each I judge Thy foe.

If I am right, Thy grace impart,
Still in the right to stay ;

If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way!

Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent

At aught Thy wisdom has denied,
Or aught Thy goodness lent.

Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others shew,
That mercy shew to me.

Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quicken'd by Thy breath;
Oh, lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death!

This day, be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun,

Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not,

And let Thy will be done.

To Thee whose Temple is all space, Whose altar, earth, sea, skies,