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In heaven again shall waken,
The harps of heaven steal o'er me,
So sang the parting spirit,
While round flow'd many a tear,
THE SILENT EXPRESSION OF NATURE.
"There is no speech nor language-their voice is not heard."
PSALM xix. 3.
WHEN, thoughtful, to the vault of heaven
I lift my wondering eyes,
And see the clear and quiet even
To night resign the skies,-
A secret rapture fills my breast,
Unheard, the dews around me fall,
And heavenly influence shed,
With sounds unheard by mortal ears,
Night reigns, in silence, o'er the pole,
Yet borrow not a word.
Noiseless the sun emits his fire,
And pours his golden streams; And silently the shades retire Before his rising beams.
The hand that moves,
And guides the vast machine,—
That governs wills, and times, and fates,
Retires, and works unseen.
Angelic visitants forsake
Their amaranthine bowers;
On silent wing their station take,
And watch the allotted hours.
Sick of the vanity of man,
His noise, and pomp, and show,—
I'll wait the upper sphere;
And break my silence there.
LIFE AND DEATH.
O FEAR not thou to die!
But rather fear to live; for life
But life!-the spirit shrinks to see How full, ere Heaven recalls the breath, The cup of wo may be.
O fear not thou to die!
No more to suffer or to sin;
No traitor heart within:
But fear, O! rather fear,
The gay, the light, the changeful scene, The flattering smiles that greet thee here, From heaven thy heart to wean.
Fear, lest, in evil hour,
Thy pure and holy hope o'ercome By clouds that in the horizon lower,— Thy spirit feel that gloom,
Which, over earth and heaven,
The covering throws of fell despair; And deems itself the unforgiven, Predestined child of care.
O fear not thou to die!
To die, and be that blessed one,
May feel that never more
The tear of grief or shame shall come,
THE SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.
WARRIORS and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
Heed not the corse, though a king's in your path,
Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,
Farewell to others! but never we part,
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars in the sea When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,