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Of heavenly minstrelsy unknown on earth,
And angels' voices, and the loud acclaim
Of all the ransomed, like a thunder-shout.
Far through the skies melodious echoes rolled,
And faint hosannas distant climes returned.

Down from the lessening multitude came faint
And fainter still the trumpet's dying peal,
All else in distance lost, when, to receive
Their new inhabitants, the heavens unfolded.
Up gazing, then, with streaming eyes, a glimpse
The wicked caught of Paradise, where streaks
Of splendor, golden gleamings, radiance shone,
Like the deep glories of declining day,
When, washed by evening showers, the huge-orbed sun
Breaks instantaneous o'er the illumined world.
Seen far within, fair forms moved graceful by,
Slow turning to the light their snowy wings.
A deep-drawn, agonizing groan escaped
The hapless outcasts, when upon the Lord
The glowing portals closed. Undone, they stood
Wistfully gazing on the cold gray heaven,
As if to catch, alas! a hope not there.
But shades began to gather, night approached,
Murky and lowering; round with horror rolled
On one another their despairing eyes,

That glared with anguish; starless, hopeless gloom
Fell on their souls, never to know an end.

Though in the far horizon lingered yet

A lurid gleam; black clouds were mustering there;
Red flashes, followed by low, muttering sounds,
Announced the fiery tempest doomed to hurl
The fragments of the earth again to chaos.
Wild gusts swept by, upon whose hollow wing
Unearthly voices, yells, and ghastly peals
Of demon laughter came. Infernal shapes
Flitted along the sulphurous wreaths, or plunged
Their dark, impure abyss, as sea-foul dive
Their watery element.- -O'erwhelmed with sights
And sounds of horror, I awoke; and found
For gathering storms, and signs of coming wo,
The midnight moon gleaming upon my bed
Serene and peaceful. Gladly I surveyed her
Walking in brightness through the stars of heaven,
And blessed the respite ere the day of doom

"As thy Day, so shall thy Strength be.”—
MRS. SIGOURNEY.

WHEN adverse winds and waves arise,
And in my heart despondence sighs,-
When life her throng of care reveals,
And weakness o'er my spirit steals,-
Grateful I hear the kind decree,
That" as my day, my strength shall be."

When, with sad footstep, memory roves
Mid smitten joys, and buried loves,-
When sleep my tearful pillow flies,
And dewy morning drinks my sighs,—
Still to thy promise, Lord, I flee,
That" as my day, my strength shall be "

One trial more must yet be past,
One pang,-the keenest, and the last;
And when, with brow convulsed and pale,
My feeble, quivering heart-strings fail,
Redeemer, grant my soul to see
That" as her day, her strength shall be."

The Pilgrims.-MRS. SIGOURNEY.

How slow yon tiny vessel ploughs the main!
Amid the heavy billows now she seems
A toiling atom,-then from wave to wave
Leaps madly, by the tempest lashed,—or réels,
Half wrecked, through gulfs profound.

-Moons wax and wane,
But still that lonely traveller treads the deep.-
I see an ice-bound coast, toward which she steers
With such a tardy movement, that it seems
Stern Winter's hand hath turned her keel to stone,
And sealed his victory on her slippery shrouds.-—
They land! They land!-not like the Genoese,
With glittering sword and gaudy train, and eye
Kindling with golden fancies.-Forth they come
From their long prison,-hardy forms, that brave
The world's unkindness, men of hoary hair,

And virgins of firm heart, and matrons grave,
Who hush the wailing infant with a glance.-
Bleak Nature's desolation wraps them round,
Eternal forests, and unyielding earth,

And savage men, who through the thickets peer
With vengeful arrow.-What could lure their steps
To this drear desert?-Ask of him who left
His father's home to roam through Haran's wilds,
Distrusting not the Guide who called him forth,
Nor doubting, though a stranger, that his seed
Should be as Ocean's sands.-

But yon lone bark

Hath spread her parting sail.

They crowd the strand,
Those few, lone pilgrims.-Can ye scan the wo
That wrings their bosoms, as the last frail link
Binding to man, and habitable earth,

Is severed?-Can ye tell what pangs were there,
What keen regrets, what sickness of the heart,
What yearnings o'er their forfeit land of birth,
Their distant, dear ones?-

Long, with straining eye,
They watch the lessening speck.-Heard ye no shriek
Of anguish, when that bitter loneliness

Sank down into their bosoms?-No! they turn
Back to their dreary, famished huts, and pray!-
Pray, and the ills that haunt this transient life
Fade into air.-Up in each girded breast

There sprang a rooted and mysterious strength,—
A loftiness,-to face a world in arms,—

To strip the pomp from sceptres, and to lay
Upon the sacred altar the warm blood

Of slain affections, when they rise between
The soul and God.--

And can ye deem it strange

That from their planting such a branch should bloom

As nations envy ?-Would a gerin, embalmed
With prayer's pure tear-drops, strike no deeper root
Than that which mad ambition's hand doth strew

Upon the winds, to reap the winds again?

Hid by its veil of waters from the hand

Of greedy Europe, their bold vine spread forth
In giant strength.-

Its early clusters, crushed

In England's wine-press, gave the tyrant host

A draught of deadly wine.- -O, ye who boast
In your free veins the blood of sires like these,
Lose not their lineaments.-Should Mammon cling
Too close around your heart,-or wealth beget
That bloated luxury which eats the core
From manly virtue,-or the tempting world
Make faint the Christian purpose in your soul,
Turn ye to Plymouth's beach,-and on that rock
Kneel in their foot-prints, and renew the vow
They breathed to God.

The Coral Grove.-PERCIVAL.

DEEP in the wave is a coral grove, Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove, Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, That never are wet with falling dew, But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Far down in the green and glassy brine. The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, And the pearl shells spangle the flinty snow; From coral rocks the sea plants lift

Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow;
The water is calm and still below,

For the winds and the waves are absent there,
And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air:
There, with its waving blade of green,

The sea-flag streams through the silent water,
And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen

To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter:

There, with a light and easy motion,

The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea;
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean
Are bending like corn on the upland lea:
And life, in rare and beautiful forms,

Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,

And is safe, when the wrathful Spirit of storms,
Has made the top of the waves his own:
And when the ship from his fury flies,
Where the myriad voices of Ocean roar,
When the wind-god frowns in the murky skies,
And demons are waiting the wreck on shore;

Then, far below, in the peaceful sea,
The purple mullet and gold-fish rove,
Where the waters murmur tranquilly,
Through the bending twigs of the coral grove.

Hebrew Melody.-MRS. J. G. BROOKS.

Jeremiah x. 17.

FROM the hall of our fathers in anguish we fled,
Nor again will its marble re-echo our tread,
For the breath of the Siroc has blasted our name,
And the frown of Jehovah has crushed us in shame.

His robe was the whirlwind, his voice was the thunder,

And earth, at his footstep, was riven asunder;

The mantle of midnight had shrouded the sky,
But we knew where He stood by the flash of His eye.

O Judah! how long must thy weary ones weep,
Far, far from the land where their forefathers sleep;
How long ere the glory that brightened the mountain
Will welcome the exile to Siloa's fountain?

To a Child.-ANONYMOUS.

"The memory of thy name, dear one,
Lives in my inmost heart,

Linked with a thousand hopes and fears,
That will not thence depart."

THINGS of high import sound I in thine ears,

Dear child, though now thou may'st not feel their power. But hoard them up, and in thy coming years

Forget them not; and when earth's tempests lower,

A talisman unto thee shall they be,

To give thy weak arm strength, to make thy dim eye see.

Seek TRUTH-that pure, celestial Truth, whose birth
Was in the heaven of heavens, clear, sacred, shrined,
In reason's light. Not oft she visits earth;

But her majestic port the willing mind,

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