Is like a breathing from a rarer world;
And the south wind seems liquid-it o'ersteals
My bosom and my brow so bathingly.
It has come over gardens, and the flowers
That kissed it are betrayed; for as it parts,
With its invisible fingers, my loose hair,
I know it has been trifling with the rose,
And stooping to the violet. There is joy
For all God's creatures in it. The wet leaves
Are stirring at its touch, and birds are singing
As if to breathe were music; and the grass
Sends up its modest odour with the dew,
Like the small tribute of humility.
Lovely indeed is morning! I have drunk
Its fragrance and its freshness, and have feit
Its delicate touch; and 'tis a kindlier thing
.Than music, or a feast, or medicine.

I had awoke from an unpleasant dream,
And light was welcome to me. I looked out
To feel the common air, and when the breath
Of the delicious morning met my brow,
Cooling its fever, and the pleasant sun
Shone on familiar objects, it was like
The feeling of the captive who comes forth
From darkness to the cheerful light of day.
Oh! could we wake from sorrow; were it ali
A troubled dream like this, to cast aside
Like an untimely garment with the morn;
Could the long fever of the heart be cooled
By a sweet breath from nature; or the gloom
Of a bereaved affection pass away

With looking on the lively tint of flowers-
How lightly were the spirit reconciled

To make this beautiful, bright world its home!

THE SUMMIT OF MOUNT SINAI.

MONTGOMERY.

I SEEK the mountain, and alone
I seem in this sequestered place
Not so: I meet, unseen, yet known,
My Maker, face to face.

My heart perceives his presence nigh,
And hears his voice proclaim,
While bright his glory passes by,
His noblest name.

Love is that name-for "God is Love."
Here, where, unbuilt by mortal hands-
Mountains below, and heaven above-
His awful temple stands,

I worship. Lord, though I am dust
And ashes in thy sight,

Be thou my strength;-in thee I trust;-
Be thou my light.

Hither, of old, the Almighty came:
Clouds were his car, his steeds the wind;
Before him went devouring flame,

And thunder rolled behind.

At his approach the mountains reeled,
Like vessels to and fro;

Earth, heaving like a sea, revealed
The gulfs below.

Borne through the wilderness in wrath,
He seem'd, in power alone, a God:
But blessings followed in his path,
For Mercy seized his rod.

He smote the rock, and, as he passed,
Forth gushed a living stream;

The fire, the earthquake, and the blast,
Fled as a dream.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

BARTON.

BRIGHT in the eastern firmament
The star upon the Magi smil'd;
Before them in their progress went,
And led them to the Heavenly Child.

Had fear or doubt their hearts assail'd,
Had they refus'd to follow on,
Little to them it had avail'd

That thus before their steps it shone.

But when its glory they espied,

Their hearts rejoic'd that star to greet;
And, trusting in their heavenly guide,
It led them to the Saviour's feet.

Nor need we vainly envy them;
Still shines within a Heavenly Light,
Which, like the Star of Bethlehem,
Would guide our onward course aright.

But if, when we that Light discern,
We doubt its mission is divine,
And from its guidance coldly turn,
Can we expect it still to shine?

Those who thus venture to reject

What none too gratefully could prize,
Too late may mourn that long neglect
Has veil'd its glory from their eyes.

But they who, following on, adore
The Giver of its guiding ray,
Shall find it shine yet more and more,
Unto the pure and perfect day.

HYMN.

J. PIERPONT.

BORNE by the tempest, on we sail

O'er ocean's billowy way;
One glorious orb by day we hail,
By night one faithful ray.

Thus God his undivided light

Pours on life's troubled wave;

Thus hope, meek star, through death's still night, Looks on the Christian's grave.

Monarch of heaven, Eternal One,

On thee our spirit calls;

To thee, as followers of thy Son,
We consecrate these walls.

These arches, springing to the sky,
This lightly swelling dome,
That lifts to heaven its starry eye,-
Be these, O God, thy home.

And wilt thou, Omnipresent, deign
Within these walls to dwell?

Then shalt thou hear our holiest strain,
Our organ's proudest swell.

Devotion's eye shall drink the light
That richly gushes through
Our simple dome of spotless white,
From thine, of cloudless blue.

And Faith, and Penitence, and Love,
And Gratitude, shall bend

To thee:-O hear them from above,
Our Father and our Friend.

POVERTY OF THE SAVIOUR.

RUSSELL.

Low in the dim and sultry west
Is the fierce sun of Syria's sky;
The evening's grateful hour of rest,
Its hour of feast and joy, is nigh.
But he, with thirst and hunger spent,
Lone, by the wayside faintly sinks;
A lowly hand the cup hath lent,

And from the humble well he drinks.

On the dark wave of Galilee

The gloom of twilight gathers fast,
And o'er the waters drearily
Sweeps the bleak evening blast.