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Oh happiest moment of all thou hast past! When thy soul to earth's vanity wakens at last! And thou feel'st that its pleasures and aims are
When heaven is thy home, and Jehovah thy trust!
A DROP OF DEW.
SEE how the orient dew,
Shed from the bosom of the morn
Yet careless of its mansion new,
For the clear region where 'twas born,
And in its little globe's extent
Frames, as it can, its native element.
How it the purple flower does slight,
Scarce touching where it lies!
But, gazing back upon the skies,
Shines with a mournful light,
Like its own tear,
Because so long divided from the sphere.
Restless it rolls, and insecure,
Till the warm sun pities its pain,
And to the skies exhales it back again,
So the soul, that drop, that ray
Of the clear fountain of eternal day,
Could it within the human flower be seen, Remembering still its former height,
Shuns the sweet leaves and blossoms green ;
And, recollecting its own light,
Does, in its pure and circling thoughts, express The greater heaven in a heaven less.
In how coy a figure wound,
it turns away !
So the world excluding round,
Yet receiving in the day :
It all about does upwards bend.
Such did the manna's sacred dew distil,
White and entire, although congeal'd and chill; Congeal'd on earth; but does, dissolving, run Into the glories of th' Almighty Sun.
O'ER the realms of pagan darkness,
See the kindreds of the people,
Lost in sin's bewild'ring maze :
Darkness brooding on the face of all the earth.
Light of them who sit in error,
Rise and shine; thy blessings bring:
Rise with healing in thy wing:
To thy brightness let all kings and nations come.
Let the heathen, now adoring
Idol gods of wood and stone,
Serve the living God alone:
Let thy glory fill the earth, as floods the sea.
Thou to whom all power is given,
Speak the word; at thy command,
Spread thy name from land to land:
Lord, be with them always, till time's latest end.
OH! sweet employment, sweet indeed
For hope inspired, and sin forgiven!
Father! we thank thee !-babes in mind,
When wondering Reason takes her flight,
Sees worlds on worlds, 'mid fields of light,
But what art thou ?-Transcendant Love,
Yet stooping to an infant's reach!
THE GOOD EXPLORE.
-The good explore
For peace, those realms where guilt can never soar, The proud, the wayward-who have fixed below Their joy, and find this world enough for woe, Lose in that one their all,-perchance, a mite, But who with patience parts with all delight?
Full many a stoic eye and aspect stern,
Hide hearts where grief has little left to learn ; And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost, In smiles that least befit who wear them most.
ON THE DESOLATION OF ISRAEL.
OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;