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Or in the Ocean's everlasting roar,
4. When in the stillness of the Sabbath morn,
The week's dread cares in tranquil slumber rest, When in the heart the holy thought is born,
And Heaven's high impulse warms the waiting breast, Have ye not felt Him, when your voiceless prayer Swelled out in tones of praise, announcing God was there?
5. Show us the Father! If ye fail to trace
His chariot, when the stars majestic roll,
in the Sabbath of the soul, How can ye see Him, till the day of dread, When to the assembled worlds the Book of Doom is read ?
The Thoughts of the Dumb.-J. H. CLINCH.
From words we gain ideas ; — there are some,
low nt The shadowy thoughts which wander through such minds, From those ideal pictures, fresh and warm
5 And well defined, which crowd the mental sight Of the deaf mute! Words are unknown to him His thoughts are things — his logic and his chain Of metaphysical deductions -- all Pass through his brain in bright depicted facts,
10 The fresh reflections in mind's mirror clear Of Art's achievements or of Nature's works.
One, to whom Heaven, in wisdom infinite,
Old Age and Death.-WALLER.
1., The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er;
So calm are we when passions are no more.
2. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed,
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made
Three poets, in three distant ages born, '
Death of Adam and Eve.-MONTGOMERY.
The sun in summer majesty on high,
15 And oft his meek complainings, thus expressed: “ Blow on me, wind! I faint with heat! O bring Delicious water from the deepest spring; Your sunless shadows o'er my limbs diffuse, Ye cedars! wash me cold with midnight dews.
20 Cheer me, my friends ! with looks of kindness cheer ; Whisper a word of comfort in mine ear; Those sorrowing faces fill my soul with gloom ; This silence is the silence of the tomb. Thither I hasten; help me on my way;
25 O sing to soothe me, and to strengthen pray!” We Sang
to soothe him — hopeless was the song ; We prayed to strengthen him he
grew not strong. In vain from every herb, and fruit, and flower, Of cordial sweetness or of healing power,
We pressed the virtue; no terrestrial balm
The sun went down, amidst an angry glare
45 Of flushing clouds, that crimsoned all the air; The winds brake loose; the forest boughs were torn, And dark aloof the eddying foliage borne; Cattle to shelter scudded in affright; The florid evening vanished into night:
50 Then burst the hurricane upon the vale, In peals of thunder, and thick-vollied hail; Prone rushing rains with torrents whelm'd the land, Our cot amidst a river seemed to stand; Around its base, the foamy-crested streams
55 Flashed through the darkness to the lightning's gleams ; With monstrous throes an earthquake heaved the ground; The rocks were rent, the mountains trembled round; Never since nature into being came, Had such mysterious motion shook her frame;
60 We thought, ingulpht in floods, or wrapt in fire, The world itself would perish with our sire. Amidst this war of elements within More dreadful grew the sacrifice for sin,
Whose victim on his bed of torture lay,
“Oye that shudder at this awful strife,