Loud was the cheer which, full and clear, And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to swept round the silent bay, see As, with kind words and kinder looks, he The gleam of thy waters, O dark Galilee! bade me go my way; For He who turns the courses of the stream- Hark, a sound in the valley! where, swollen let of the glen, and strong, And the river of great waters, had turn'd Thy river, O Kishon, is sweeping along; the hearts of men. Where the Canaanite strove with JEHOVAH in vain, Oh, at that hour the very earth seem'd And thy torrent grew dark with the blood changed beneath my eye, A holier wonder round me rose the blue walls of the sky, A lovelier light on rock and hill, and stream and woodland lay, And softer lapsed on sunnier sands the waters of the bay. Thanksgiving to the Lord of life! - to Him all praises be, of the slain. There, down from his mountains stern And NAPHTALI's stag, with his eyeballs of And the chariots of JABIN roll'd harmlessly on, For the arm of the LORD was ABINOAM'S son! Who from the hands of evil men hath set There sleep the still rocks and the caverns which rang his handmaid free; All praise to Him before whose power the mighty are afraid, Who takes the crafty in the snare, which for the poor is laid! PALESTINE. To the song which the beautiful prophetess sang, When the princes of Issachar stood by her side, And the shout of a host in its triumph replied. Lo, Bethlehem's hill-site before me is seen, With the mountains around and the valleys between ; BLEST land of Judea! thrice hallow'd of song, There rested the shepherds of Judah, and Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like throng; In the shade of thy palms, by the shores there The song of the angels rose sweet on the air. And Bethany's palm trees in beauty still throw Their shadows at noon on the ruins below; But where are the sisters who hasten'd to greet With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore, before; With the glide of a spirit I traverse the sod I tread where the twelve in their wayfaring Made bright by the steps of the angels of trod; I stand where they stood with the chosen of GoD GOD. Blue sea of the hills! in my spirit I hear Where His blessing was heard and his les- Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green, These hills HE toil'd over in grief, are the And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene; same The founts where He drank by the way- And the voice which breathed peace to the side still flow, waves of the sea, And the same airs are blowing which breath'd In the hush of my spirit would whisper on his brow! Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when to me! O, the outward hath gone! but, in glory and power, The Spirit surviveth the things of an hour; In love and in meekness He moved among Unchanged, undecaying, its Pentecost flame On the heart's secret altar is burning the same! men; THE STAR AND THE WATER-LILY. THE Sun stepp'd down from his golden throne, And the Lily had folded her satin leaves, Why crisp the waters blue? The Rose is cooling his burning cheek. That would lie by the Rose's side; Remember, remember, thou silly one, But what if the stormy cloud should come, And ruffle the silver sea? Would he turn his eye from the distant sky, O, no! fair Lily, he will not send And thou wilt be left alone. There is not a leaf on the mountain-top, Nor a drop of evening dew, Nor a golden sand on the sparkling shore, Nor a pearl in the waters blue, That he has not cheer'd with his fickle smile, And warm'd with his faithless beam, And will he be true to a pallid flower, That floats on the quiet stream? Alas, for the Lily! she would not heed, And bared her breast to the trembling ray The cloud came over the darken'd sky, She look'd in vain through the beating rain, And sank in the stormy tide. THE STEAMBOAT. SEE how yon flaming herald treads She rends the clinging sea, The morning spray, like sea-born flowers, With clashing wheel, and lifting keel, And smoking torch on high, When seas are silent and serene, Uncursed by doubt our earliest creed we take ; We love the precepts for the teacher's sake; The simple lessons which the nursery taught The sunshine glimmering through the green Fell soft and stainless on the buds of thought, That skirts her gleaming sides. Now, like a wild nymph, far apart Still sounding through the storm; Now answers, like a courtly dame, The reddening surges o'er, With flying scarf of spangled flame, The Pharos of the shore. To-night yon pilot shall not sleep, Who trims his narrow'd sail; To-night yon frigate scarce shall keep Her broad breast to the gale; And many a foresail, scoop'd and strain'd, Shall break from yard and stay, Before this smocky wreath has stain'd The rising mist of day. And the full blossom owes its fairest hue To those sweet tear-drops of affection's dew. Too oft the light that led our earlier hours Faith loves to lean on Time's destroying arm, And age, like distance, lends a double charm. In dim cathedrals, dark with vaulted gloom, What holy awe invests the saintly tomb! There Pride will bow, and anxious Care expand, And creeping Avarice come with open hand; The gay can weep, the impious can adore Hark! hark! I hear yon whistling shroud, From morn's first glimmerings on the chan I see yon quivering mast; The black throat of the hunted cloud An hour, and, whirl'd like winnowing chaff, cel floor Till dying sunset sheds its crimson stains Through the faint halos of the irised panes. Yet there are graves whose rudely-shapen sod Bears the fresh footprints where the sexton trod; |