Who hears a child's as well as prelate's prayer. And thus he stood on Whitefield's form his glance In reverence fixed and hoped deliverance. Meanwhile, the recreant teacher, where was he? Gone in effrontery to take his tea With the lad's mother! - Supper done, he told The feat that should display her son as bold. With eye indignant, and with words of flame, How showers that mother scorn, rebuke, and shame! He would sustain himself, and she should find The boy yet lives - and from that distant hour Dates much of truth that on his heart hath power; And chiefly this-whate'er of wit is wed To word of his-to reverence the dead. SATURDAY EVENING. My God! this hour doth thought invite, I long to soar above the vain And false delights that compass me ! Break, Lord, the world's entangling chain, And set the joyful captive free. 'Tis said the time ere that which brings Is ne'er disturbed by fiends of night; Sweet Evening! whose delightful air If such the prospects that may pass Who gazes through the shepherd's glass, THE SABBATH. The day that God calls his, make not thine own MS. Poetry of the Seventeenth Century. Toil! with thy thousand cares, away! I seek its hallowed rest. When virgin Earth was young, The word that blest it came; With trumpet's voice the mandate rung From Sinai's hill of flame. Joy for the Sabbath hours! My soul, think on thy vow; Lie trembling, ye tumultuous powers! This Resurrection Morn Broke ancient Midnight's spell, When ONE of lowly woman horn, Spoiled Death and eager Hell. Up, for retirement's haunt! The solemn, secret place, Where God supplies the spirit's want Its hushed and early hour The Sabbath day-break! — Oh, there's power With Him to wrestle then. Up! where Devotion waits, Where the bowed heart adores; Be lifted, oh, ye temple gates! Up! for the paschal feast The bread and wine are here; Thou, whom thy heart esteems as least, The spousals of the King And Church are held to-day; Thy willing gift of gladness bring, And bring thy white array. Weep! for there is a loss The enemy has gained; Oh, not alone by those : Yet darker is the frown: The CHRISTIAN joins the Sabbath foes, By him 'tis trodden down! NIAGARA. NIAGARA!the poetry of God! Whose numbers tell, in everlasting hymn, Returned them, softened, round the universe. SHIP OF THE LINE PENNSYLVANIA. "LEAP forth to the careering seas," Oh, ship of lofty name! And toss upon thy native breeze The stars and stripes of fame! And bear thy thunders o'er the deep Where vaunting navies ride! |