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When one by one each human sound
Dies on the awful ear, Then Nature's voice no more is drowned,
She speaks, and we must hear.
pours she on the Christian heart That warning still and deep, At which high spirits of old would start
E’en from their pagan sleep,
Just guessing, through their murky blind,
Few, faint, and baffling sight, Streaks of a brighter heaven behind
A cloudless depth of light.
Such thoughts, the wreck of Paradise,
Through many a dreary age, Upbore whate'er of good and wise
Yet lived in bard or sage :
They marked what agonizing throes
Shook the great mother's womb; But Reason's spells might not disclose
The gracious birth to come ;
Nor could the enchantress Hope forecast
God's secret love and power;
Till her appointed hour;
The hour that saw from opening heaven
Redeeming glory-stream, Beyond the summer hues of even,
Beyond the mid-day beam.
FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
Thenceforth, to eyes of high desire,
The meanest things below,
Invested, burn and glow :
The rod of heaven has touched them all,
The word from heaven is spoken : “Rise, shine, and sing, thou captive thrall !
Are not thy fetters broken?
66 The God who hallowed thee, and blest,
Pronouncing thee all good,
And all thy bliss renewed ?
6. Why mourn'st thou still as one bereft,
Now that th' eternal Son
To make thee all his own?
Thou mourn'st because sin lingers still
In Christ's new heaven and earth;
Stain our immortal birth;
Because, as Love and Prayer grow cold,
The Saviour hides his face,
With uses vile and base.
Hence all thy groans and travail-pains ;
Hence, till thy God return,
O Nature, seem to mourn !
IS THERE, FOR HONEST POVERTY.- Burns.
Is there, for honest poverty,
That hangs his head, and a' that? The coward-slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a' that ! For a' that, and a' that,
Our toil 's obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea's stamp,
The man 's the gowd for a' that !
What tho' on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin gray, and a' that ; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man 's a man, for a' that!
Their tinsel show, and a' that,
Is king o' men for a' that!
Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a' that ; Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that! For a' that, and a' that,
His riband, star, and a' that, The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that!
A king can mak' a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
Guid faith he mauna fa' that!
THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT.
For a' that, and a' that,
Their dignities, and a' that,
Are higher ranks than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may, —
As come it will for a? that,
May bear the gree, and a' that!
It's comin' yet, for a' that,
Shall brothers be for a' that!
THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT. - Blackwood's Magazine.
OUTSTRETCHED beneath the leafy shade
A dying woman lay;
A wofül wail that day.
6. O mother!” was the mingled cry,
And leave us all alone."
In a low sobbing moan.
And then life struggled hard with death,
she raised her head ;
And peering through the deep wood's maze With a long, sharp, unearthly gaze,
" Will he not come ?” she said.
Just then, the parting boughs between,
All breathless with her speed ; And following close, a man came on (A portly man to look upon),
Who led a panting steed. 66 Mother!” the little maiden cried, Or e'er she reached the woman's side,
And kissed her clay-cold cheek, " I have not idled in the town, But long went wandering up and down,
The minister to seek.
And when I found his home,
Mother! he would not come.
Without the minister;
Mother! he would not stir.
So, though my tears were blinding me, I ran back fast as fast could be,
To come again to you ; And here close by — this squire I met, Who asked (so mild !) what made me fret;
And when I told him true,