But to the living GoD, throughout the land,
He saw no altar blaze, no temple stand;
Jerusalem was dust, and Zion's hill,
Like Tophet's valley, desolate and still :
The prophet drew one deep desponding groan,
And his heart died within him like a stone.

prayer,

An angel's touch the dire entrancement broke,
"Arise and eat, Elijah !"-He awoke,
And found a table in the desert spread,
With water in the cruise beside his head;
He bless'd the Lord, who turn'd away his
And feasted on the heaven-provided fare;
Then sweeter slumber o'er his senses stole,
And sunk like life new-breathed into his soul.
A dream brought David's city on his sight,
-Shepherd's were watching o'er their flocks by night;
Around them uncreated splendour blazed,

And heavenly hosts their hallelujah's raised;
A theme unknown since sin to death gave birth,
"Glory to God! good will and peace on earth!"
They sang; his heart responded to the strain,
Though memory sought to keep the words in vain :
The vision changed;-amid the gloom serene,
One star above all other stars was seen,

It had a light, a motion of its own,

And o'er an humble shed in Bethlehem shone;
He look'd, and, lo! an infant newly born,
That seem'd cast out to poverty and scorn,
Yet Gentile kings its advent came to greet,
Worshipp'd, and laid their treasures at its feet.
Musing what this mysterious babe might be,
He saw a sufferer stretch'd upon a tree;
Yet while the victim died, by men abhorr'd,
Creation's agonies confess'd him LORD.
Again the Angel smote the slumberer's side;

66

Arise and eat, the way is long and wide.”

He rose and ate, and with unfainting force,

Through forty days and nights upheld his course.

Horeb, the mount of GOD, he reach'd, and lay
Within a cavern till the cool of day.

"What dost thou here, Elijah?"-Like the tide, Brake that deep voice through silence. He replied, "I have been very jealous for thy cause,

LORD GOD of hosts! for men make void thy laws;
Thy people have thrown down thine altars, slain
Thy prophets,-I, and I alone, remain;
My life with reckless vengeance they pursue,
And what can I against a nation do?"

"Stand on the mount before the Lord, and know,
That wrath or mercy at my will I show."
Anon the power that holds the winds let fly
Their devastating armies through the sky;
Then shook the wilderness, the rocks were rent,
As when JEHOVAH bow'd the firmament,
And trembling Israel, while he gave the law,
Beheld the symbols but no image saw.

The storm retired, nor left a trace behind;
The LORD pass'd by; he came not with the wind.
Beneath the prophet's feet the shuddering ground
Clave, and disclosed a precipice profound,
Like that which open'd to the gates of hell,
When Korah, Dathan, and Abiram fell;
Again the Lord pass'd by, but unreveal'd;
He came not with the earthquake,-all was seal'd.
A new amazement! vale and mountain turn'd
Red as the battle-field with blood, then burn'd
Up to the stars, as terrible a flame

As shall devour this universal frame;
Elijah watch'd it kindle, spread, expire;
The LORD pass'd by; he came not with the fire.
A still small whisper breathed upon
his ear;
He wrapt his mantle round his face with fear;
Darkness that might be felt involved him,—dumb
With expectation of a voice to come,

He stood upon the threshold of the cave,
As one long dead, just risen from the grave,

In the last judgment.-Came the voice and cried,
"What dost thou here, Elijah ?"-He replied,
"I have been very jealous for thy cause,

LORD GOD of hosts! for men make void thy laws
Thy people have thrown down thine altars, slain
Thy prophets,-I, and I alone, remain ;

My life with ruthless violence they pursue,
And what can I against a nation do?"

66

My day of vengeance is at hand: the year
Of my redeem'd shall suddenly appear:

Go Thou, anoint two kings,-and in thy place,
A prophet to stand up before my face:

Then he who 'scapes the Syrian's sword shall fall
By his whom to Samaria's throne I call ;
And he who 'scapes from Jehu, in that day,
Him shall the judgment of Elisha slay.
Yet hath a remnant been preserved by me,
Seven thousand souls, who never bow'd the knee
To Baäl's image, nor have kiss'd his shrine;
These are my jewels, and they shall be mine,
When to the world my righteousness is shown,
And, root and branch, idolatry o'erthrown.'

So be it, God of truth! yet why delay?
With thee a thousand years are as one day ;
O crown thy people's hopes, dispel their fears!
And be to-day with Thee a thousand years!
Cut short the evil, bring the blessed time,
Avenge thine own elect from clime to clime;
Let not an idol in thy path be spared,

All share the fate which Baäl long hath shared;
Nor let seven thousand only worship Thee;
Make every tongue confess, bow every knee;
Now o'er the promised kingdoms reign thy Son,
One Lord through all the earth,—his name be one!
Hast Thou not spoken? shall it not be done?

STANZAS

ON THE DEATH OF

THE LATE REV. THOMAS RAWSON TAYLOR,

OF BRADFORD, IN YORKSHIRE;

A young minister of great promise, and a poet of no mean order, whose verses, entitled "Communion with the Dead," on the removal in early life of a sister, would endear and perpetuate the remembrance of both, were they as generally known as they deserve to be. The survivor died on the 7th of March, 1835, aged 28 years.

MILLIONS of eyes have wept o'er frames

Once living, beautiful, and young,

Now dust and ashes, and their names
Extinct on earth because unsung:
itself hath but its day,

Yet song

Like the swan's dirge,—a dying lay.

A dying lay I would rehearse,

In memory of one whose breath

Pour'd forth a stream of such sweet verse
As might have borne away from death
The trophy of a sister's name,
-Winning at once and giving fame.

But all is mortal here,-that song

Pass'd like the breeze, which steals from flowers

Their fragrance, yet repays the wrong

With dew-drops, shaken down in showers;

Ah! like those flowers with dew-drops fed,

They sprang, they blossom'd, they are dead.
The poet (spared a little while)

Follow'd the sister all too soon ;
The hectic rose that flush'd his smile

Grew pale and wither'd long ere noon;

In youth's exulting prime he gave
What death demanded to the grave.

But that which death nor grave could seize,―
His soul,-into his Saviour's hands
(Who by the cross's agonies

Redeem'd a people from all lands)
He yielded, till "that day" to keep,
And then, like Stephen, fell asleep.

"That day" will come, meanwhile weep not,
O ye that loved him! and yet more
Love him for grief that "he is not :"

-Rather with joy let eyes run o'er,
And warm hearts hope his face to see,
Where 'tis for ever "good to be."

CHRIST THE PURIFIER.

MALACHI, iii. 2, 3.

HE that from dross would win the precious ore,
Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye,
The subtle, searching process to explore,
Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by,
When in the molten silver's virgin mass,
He meets his pictured face as in a glass.
Thus in God's furnace are his children tried ;
Thrice happy they who to the end endure!
But who the fiery trial may abide ?

Who from the crucible come forth so pure,
That He, whose eyes of flame look through the whole,
May see his image perfect in the soul?

Not with an evanescent glimpse alone,
As in that mirror the refiner's face,

But, stampt with heaven's broad signet, there be shown
Immanuel's features, full of truth and grace,—

And round that seal of love this motto be,

"Not for a moment, but eternity!"

2 Tim. i. 12.