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النشر الإلكتروني

The ravenous foe, that gorged all human race !
The king of glory, he, whose glory filled
Heaven with amazement at his love to man ;
And with divine complacency beheld
Powers most illumined, wildered in the theme.

The theme, the joy, how then shall man sustain ?
Oh the burst gates ! crushed sting ! demolished throne !
Last gasp ! of vanquished death. Shout earth and

heaven!
This sum of good to man. Whose nature, then,
Took wing, and mounted with him from the tomb !
Then, then, I rose ; then first humanity
Triumphant passed the crystal ports of light,
(Stupendous guest!) and seized eternal youth,
Seized in our name. E'er since 'tis blasphemous
To call man mortal. Man's mortality
Was then transferred to death; and heaven's duration
Unalienably sealed to this frail frame,
This child of dust-man, all-immortal! hail ;
Hail, heaven! all lavish of strange gifts to man !
Thine all the glory; man's the boundless bliss.

Religion! thou the soul of happiness;
And, groaning Calvary, of thee! there shine
The noblest truths; there strongest motives sting;
There sacred violence assaults the soul;
There, nothing but compulsion is forborne.
Can love allure us? or can terror awe?
He weeps !~the falling drop puts out the sun ;
He sighs—the sigh earth's deep foundation shakes.
If in his love so terrible, what then
His wrath inflamed ? his tenderness on fire ?
Like soft, smooth oil, out-blazing other fires
Can prayer, can praise avert it?-Thou, my all!
My theme! my inspiration ! and my crown!
My strength in age! my rise in low estate !
My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth !-my world!

My light in darkness ! and my life in death!
My boast through time! bliss through eternity!
Eternity, too short to speak thy praise !
Or fathom thy profound of love to man!
To man of men the meanest, even to me;
My sacrifice! my God!—what things are these !

THE SONG OF HEAVEN. HARPs of Eternity! begin the song, Redeemed and angel-harps! begin to God,

“, Begin the anthem ever sweet and new, While I extol Him, holy, just, and good. Life, beauty, light, intelligence, and love Eternal, uncreated, infinite ! Unsearchable Jehovah ! God of truth, Maker, upholder, governor of all ! Thyself unmade, ungoverned, unupheld ! Omnipotent, unchangeable, Great God ! Exhaustless fullness! giving unimpaired! Bounding immensity, unspread, unbound ! Highest and best ! beginning, middle, end! All seeing Eye ! all seeing, and unseen! Hearing, unheard ! all knowing, and unknown ! Above all praise ! above all height of thought ! Proprietor of immortality! Glory ineffable! bliss underived ! Of old thou built'st thy throne on righteousness, Before the morning Stars their song began, Or silence heard the voice of praise. Thou laidst Eternity's foundation stone, and sawest Life and existence out of Thee begin. Mysterious more, the more displayed, where still Upon thy glorious Throne thou sit'st alone, Hast sat alone, and shalt for ever sit

Alone, Invisible, Immortal One!
Behind essential brightness unbeheld.
Incomprehensible ! what weight shall weigh,
What measure measure Thee! What know we more
Of Thee, what need to know, than Thou hast taught,
And bidst us still repeat, at morn and even ?-
God! Everlasting Father! Holy One!
Our God, our Father, our Eternal All!
Source whence we came, and whither we return;
Who made our spirits, who our bodies made,
Who made the heaven, who made the flowery land,
Who made all made, who orders, governs all,
Who walks upon the wind, who holds the wave
In hollow of thy hand, whom thunders wait,
Whom tempests serve, whom flaming fires obey,
Who guides the circuit of the endless years,
And sits on high, and makes creation's top
Thy footstool, and beholds, below Thee, all-
All nought, all less than nought, and vanity.
Like transient dust that hovers on the scale,
Ten thousand worlds are scattered in thy breath.
Thou sit'st on high, and measurest destinies,
And days, and months, and wide revolving years;
And dost according to thy holy will ;
And none can stay thy hand, and none withhold
Thy glory; for in judgment, Thou, as well
As mercy, art exalted, day and night.
Past, present, future, magnify thy name.
Thy works all praise Thee, all thy angels praise ;
Thy saints adore, and on thy altars burn
The fragrant incense of perpetual love.
They praise Thee now, their hearts, their voices praise,
And swell the rapture of the glorious song.
Harp! lift thy voice on high ! shout, angels, shout!
And loudest, ye redeemed! Glory to God,
And to the Lamb who bought us with his blood,
From every kindred, nation, people, tongue ;

And washed, and sanctified, and saved our souls;
And gave us robes of linen pure, and crowns
Of life, and made us kings and priests to God.
Shout back to ancient Time! Sing loud, and wave
Your palms of triumph! sing, Where is thy sting,
O Death! where is thy victory, O Grave !
Thanks be to God, eternal thanks, who gave
Us victory through Jesus Christ, our Lord.
Harp! lift thy voice on high ! shout, angels, shout!
And loudest, ye redeemed! Glory to God,
And to the Lamb, all glory and all praise,
All glory and all praise, at morn and even,
That come and go eternally, and find
Us happy still, and Thee for ever blest !
Glory to God and to the Lamb. Amen.
For ever, and for ever more. Amen.

ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER'S
PICTURE OUT OF NORFOLK,

THE GIFT OF MY COUSIN, ANN BODHAM.
O that those lips had language! Life has passed
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thine—thy own sweet smile I see,
The same, that oft in childhood solaced me;
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,
“Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!"
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes
(Blest be the art that can immortalize,
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim
To quench it) here shines on me still the same.

Faithful remembrancer of one so dear,
O welcome guest, though unexpected here !
Who bidst me honour with an artless song,
Affectionate, a mother lost so long.

I will obey, not willingly alone,
But gladly, as the precept were her own :
And, while that face renews my filial grief,
Fancy shall weave a charm for

my

relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream, that thou art she.

My mother! when I learned that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss; Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in blissAh that maternal smile! it answers“Yes. I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such ?--It was. Where thou art gone, Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, The parting word shall pass my lips no more! Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. What ardently I wished, I long believed, And, disappointed still, was still deceived, By expectation every day beguiled, Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant-sorrow spent, I learned at last submission to my lot, But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot.

Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursery floor; And where the gardener Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way,

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