Oh! talk of Him in solitary glooms,

Where o'er the rock the scarcely waving pine
Fills the brown shade with a religious awe.
His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills,
And let me catch it as I muse along.

Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound;
Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze
Along the vale; and thou, majestic main,
A secret world of wonders in thyself,
Sound His stupendous praise, whose greater voice
Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits and flowers,
In mingled clouds to Him whose sun exalts,
Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil
paints.

Ye forests, bend; ye harvests, wave to Him;
Breathe your still song into the reaper's heart,
As home he goes beneath the joyous moon.
Ye that keep watch in heaven, as earth asleep
Unconscious lies, effuse your mildest beams.
Great source of day, best image here below
Of thy Creator, ever pouring wide

From world to world the vital ocean round,
On Nature write with every beam his praise.
Bleat out afresh, ye hills; ye mossy rocks,
Retain the sound; the broad, responsive low,
Ye valleys, raise for the Great Shepherd reigns,
And his unsuffering kingdom yet will come.
Ye woodlands all, awake; a boundless song
Burst from the groves; and when the restless day,
Expiring, lays the warbling world asleep,

Sweetest of birds, sweet nightingale, entrance The listening shades, and teach the night His praise.

Ye chief, for whom the whole creation smiles,
At once the head, the heart, the tongue of all,
Crown the great hymn! In swarming cities vast,
S till sing the God of seasons as they roll.
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams,
Or Winter rises in the blackening east,
Be my tongue mute, my fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget, my heart, to beat!

James Thomson.

UP

19. TO A SKYLARK.

P with me, up with me, into the clouds!
For thy song, lark, is strong;

Up with me, up with me into the clouds,
Singing, singing!

With clouds and sky about thee ringing,
Lift me, guide me, till I find

That spot which seems so to thy mind.

I have walked through wildernesses dreary,
And to-day my heart is weary:
Had I now the wings of a fairy,

Up to thee would I fly.

There is madness about thee, and joy divine
In that song of thine:

Lift me, guide me, high and high,
To thy banqueting-place in the sky.

20. JOYOUS AS MORNING.

art laughing and scorning;

THOU art laughest for thy love and thy rest;

And, though little troubled with sloth,
Drunken lark! thou wouldst be loath
To be such a traveller as I.

Happy, happy liver,

With a soul as strong as a mountain-river,
Pouring out praise to the almighty Giver,
Joy and jollity be with us both!

Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven,
Through prickly moors and dusty ways must

wind;

But hearing thee, or others of thy kind,

As full of gladness, and as free of heaven,
I, with my fate contented, will plod on,

And hope for higher raptures when life's day is

done.

Wordsworth.

21. ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH.

HIGHER, higher, will we climb,

Up to the mount of glory,

That our names may live through time
In our country's story:
Happy, when her welfare calls,
He who conquers, he who falls.

Deeper, deeper, let us toil

In the mines of knowledge; Nature's wealth and learning's spoil Win from school and college; Delve we there for richer gems

Than the stars of diadems.

Onward, onward, may we press,
Through the path of duty :
Virtue is true happiness;

Excellence, true beauty.

Minds are of celestial birth:

Make we, then, a heaven of earth.

Closer, closer, let us knit

Hearts and hands together,

Where our fireside comforts sit

In the wildest weather.

Oh! they wander wide who roam,
For the joys of life, from home.

James Montgomery.

22. THOUGHTS OF HEAVEN.

IGH thoughts,

HIG

They come and go

Like the soft breathing of a listening maiden,
While round me flow

The winds from woods and fields with glad-
ness laden.

When the corn's rustle on the ear doth come; When the eve's beetle sounds its drowsy hum; When the stars, dewdrops of the summer sky, Watch over all with soft and loving eye,— While the leaves quiver

By the lone river,

And the quiet heart

From depths doth call,

And garners all,

Earth grows a shadow;

Forgotten whole,

And heaven lives

In the blessed soul!

High thoughts!

They are with me

When deep within the bosom of the forest Thy morning melody

Abroad into the sky, thou, throstle, pourest; When the young beams glance among the trees; When on the ear comes the soft song of bees;