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HYMN.

BEHOLD! th' Ambassador Divine,
Descending from above,

To publish to mankind the law
Of everlasting love!

On him, in rich effusion pour'd,
The heav'nly dew descends;
And truth divine he shall reveal
To earth's remotest ends.

No trumpet-sound, at his approach,
Shall strike the wond'ring ears;
But still and gentle breathe the voice
In which the God appears.

By his kind hand the shaken reed
Shall raise its falling frame;
The dying embers shall revive,
And kindle to a flame.

The onward progress of his zeal
Shall never know decline,
Till foreign lands and distant isles
Receive the law divine.

He who spread forth the arch of heav'n,
And bade the planets roll,

Who laid the basis of the earth,

And form'd the human soul,

Thus saith the soul, Thee have I sent,

A Prophet from the sky,
Wide o'er the nations to proclaim

The message from on high.

Before thy face the shades of death
Shall take to sudden flight;

D

The people who in darkness dwell
Shall hail a glorious light;

The gates of brass shall sunder burst,
The iron fetters fall;
The promis'd Jubilee of Heav'n
Appointed rise o'er all.

And lo! presaging thy approach,
The heathen temples shake,
And, trembling in forsaken fanes,
The fabled idols quake.

I am Jehovah: I am One:

My name shall now be known;
No Idol shall usurp my praise,
Nor mount into my throne.'

Lo, former scenes, predicted once,
Conspicuous rise to view;
And future scenes, predicted now,
Shall be accomplish'd too.

Now sing a new song to the Lord!
Let earth his praise resound:
Ye who upon the ocean dwell,

And fill the isles around.

O city of the Lord! begin
The universal song ;

And let the scattered villages
The joyful notes prolong.

Let Kedar's wilderness afar
Lift up the lonely voice;
And let the tenants of the rock
With accent rude rejoice.

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O from the streams of distant land
Unto Jehovah sing!

And joyful from the mountains' tops
Shout to the Lord the King!

Let all combin'd with one accord
Jehovah's glories rise,

Till in remotest bounds of earth
The nations sound his praise.

LOGAN

AT A FUNERAL.

BENEATH Our feet, and o'er our head,

Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven!

Their names are graven on the stone,
Their bones are in the clay;
And ere another day is done,
Ourselves may be as they.

Death rides on every passing breeze,
He lurks in every flower;
Each season has its own disease,
Its peril every hour!

Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay,
And Fate descend in sudden night
On manhood's middle day.

Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly t'wards the tomb,
And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?

Turn mortal, turn! thy danger know;
Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead!

Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply
To truths divinely given;

The bones that underneath thee lie
Shall live for Hell or Heaven!

HEBER.

ANOTHER.

THOU art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee,

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb;

Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee

And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom!

Thou art gone to the grave !-we no longer behold thee,

Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy

side;

But the wide arms of mercy are spread to infold

thee,

And sinners may die, for the sinless have died!

Thou art gone to the grave!-and, its mansion forsaking,

Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long; But the mild rays of Paradise beam'd on thy waking,

And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song!

Thou art gone to the grave !—but we will not deplore thee,

[guide; Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and He gave thee-He took thee-and He will restore

thee,

[died! And Death has no sting, for the Saviour has

OMNISCIENCE.

GoD sits enthron'd in yonder sky,
Beyond the cloudless blue;
And though unseen to every eye,
All opens to his view.

He sees those awful depths below,
Which angels cannot trace;
Nor can we from his presence go,
Or find a hiding place.

That eye eternity surveys,

As if no cloud was there;
And worlds on which we nightly gaze,
His awful presence share.

The dead, whose scatter'd atoms lie,
On earth, or in the deep,
Cannot escape that piercing eye,
Which ne'er was clos'd in sleep.

That eye which saw creation rise,
Shall see its final close;

Nor seek to slumber in the skies,
For God needs no repose.

Omniscience! who can speak of thee!
Our thoughts no limits find;

'Tis like that dread eternity

Or God's almighty mind.

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