'Tis one undeviating flame— One spirit-stirring fire, The love that ever loves the same- It closely tends the fleeting breath, MY MOTHER'S VOICE. John Barris, a Cornish Miner. I HEAR it in the busy throng ; I hear it in the rock-ribb'd earth, I hear it when my heart is sad; It leads me back when life was new; The music of this voice I hear, Sweet harp-notes from the lyre of Time, They gush with conquering ecstasy, NATURE. Sames Montgomery. THE God of nature and of grace His goodness through the earth we trace, Behold this fair and fertile globe, Lift to the arch of heaven your eye, He bows the heav'ns-the mountains stand, He walks amidst the desert land 'Tis Eden where he trod. The forests in his strength rejoice; As one of old, the Lord God's voice Here on the hills he feeds his herds, Mount with the lark, and bear our song Or, with the nightingale, prolong In every stream his bounty flows, In His blessings fall in plenteous showers Upon the lap of earth, That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers, And rings with infant mirth. If God hath made this world so fair, Where sin and death abound, How beautiful beyond compare MORTALITY. Koor. OH! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, And the young and the old, and the low and the high, The child that a mother attended and lov'd, The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne, The saint that enjoyed the communion of heaven, So the multitude goes-like the flower and the weed So the multitude comes-even those we behold, Yea, hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain, Are mingled together like sunshine and rain; And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge, Still follow each other like surge upon surge. 'Tis the twink of an eye, 'tis the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud; Oh! why should the spirit of mortal be proud? PRIVATE WORSHIP. Cowper. FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, The calm retreat, the silent shade, There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, O with what peace, and joy, and love, |