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The humble precincts of the blest abode, That formed a temple for the Incarnate God,

And fill'd with holy joy, they meekly laid Their gifts and rich oblations at his feet, And bowed in adoration as they gazed.

AT EVENING TIME IT SHALL BE

LIGHT.

Zechariah xiv. 7.

NIGHT spreads her pall o'er wave and bower,

Its gloom enwraps the sunless sky; Stars there are none--this murky hour The storm thick mantles from on high.

Nought but the tempest, reigning wide,

Breaks the dread silence of the night;

And gathering still on every side,
The firmest hearts quail with affright.

The weary pilgrim through the vale,
In vain the doubtful pathway tries;
Him all around life's ills assail,

While the "gross darkness" veils his eyes.

But see! at length the storm is o'er
The fleecy clouds roll fast away;
The gentle moon, with silv'ry store,
Lights up the heaven with mimic day.

"Tis thus, methinks, life's varied way
The Christian in his path must meet:
The sun, the storm, the changing day,
Now animate, or check, his feet.

Still forward lies the course of life,

And still new joys or dangers rise; Discord or peace, or calm, or strife,

Serene, or dark tempestuous skies.

But as his final hour draws near,
A holy calm pervades his soul;
Distrust, and pain, and gloomy fear,

Cease to exert their dread controul.

Hope's cheering beam athwart the gloom
Reveals the mansions of the blest;
Faith from a risen Saviour's tomb
Points where "the weary are at rest.”

Led by the Spirit of his God,

Death's deepest valley looks more bright;

And resting on his word and rod,

Behold!" at evening time 'tis light!"

CHANGE.

NO. I.

S. M.

HAST thou mark'd the rolling wave,
Oft the sailor's early grave;

Hast thou seen the trembling ocean,
Wild in storm and fierce commotion-

Seen the bark an instant tost,
Then in wave and foam nigh lost.
Rearing now on ocean's breast,
On the foamy billow's crest;
Sinking 'neath the treach'rous sea?
Christian, ponder !-answer me !

Hast thou mark'd the flow'ret fair,
Show'ring perfume on the air:
When the eastern sun is rising,
All creation then surprising?
Watch'd the lark mount full on high,
Soaring upward to the sky-
Heard creation's 'plauding lays,
Nature's self-taught notes of praise-
Mark'd the storm that scene o'ercast?
Christian, answer!-what has pass'd ?

Hast thou look'd down to the west,
When the sun sinks slow to rest,
Pensive twilight stealing o'er

Beauteous ocean's bounding shore;

When at evening's solemn close,
Nature seeks and finds repose;

And the earth is calm and still,
Save the gently murm'ring rill?
Christian, say, when such the scene,
What, oh! what thy thoughts have been?

Look within thy breast, O man!
There the storms of passion scan;
There the elemental war

Of thy daily passions mar
All the noblest virtues there,
Borne to us from upper air.
Sorely toss'd in passing strife,
Such is man's unchristian life!
Such the wreck I oft have seen
On life's sea, where I have been.

Hast thou mark'd youth's vernal days,
When his soaring soul essays

First to wander forth alone,

Proud in boyhood's days far gone?

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