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And now descending 'tween the sheltering waves,
The falling tresses veil the face divine:
Meek through that veil a momentary gleam
Benignant shines ; he dreams that he beholds
The opening eyes,—that long hopeless had rolled
In darkness,-look around bedimmed with tears
Of joy ; but suddenly the voice of fear
Dispelled the happy vision : awful he rose,
Rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea,
Peace, be thou still ! and straight there was a calm.
With terror-mingled gladness in their looks,
The mariners exclaim,- What man is this,
That even the wind and sea obey his voice!


CALMS THE STORM. LOUD blew the storm of night; the thwarting

surge Dashed, boiling, on the labouring bark : dismay, From face to face reflected, spread around :When, lo! upon a towering wave is seen The semblance of a foamy wreath, upright, Move onward to the ship: the helmsman starts, And quits his hold ; the voyagers, appalled, Shrink from the fancied Spirit of the Flood : But when the voice of JESUS with the storm Soft mingled, It is 1, be not afraid ; Fear fled, and joy lightened from eye to eye. Up he ascends, and, from the rolling side, Surveys the tumult of the sea and sky


With transient look severe: the tempest, awed, Sinks to a sudden calm ; the clouds disperse; The moonbeam trembles on the face divine, Reflected mildly in the unruffled deep.


His eyes uplifted, and his hands close clasped, The dumb man, with a supplicating look, Turned as the Lord passed by: Jesus beheld, And on him bent a pitying look, and spake : His moving lips are by the suppliant seen, And the last accents of the healing sentence Ring in that ear which never heard before. Prostrate the man restored falls to the earth, And uses first the gift, the gift sublime Of speech, in giving thanks to Him, whose voice Was never uttered but in doing good.

'Tis finished : he spake the words, and bowed
His head, and died.-Beholding him far off,
They who had ministered unto him hope
'Tis his last agony : the Temple's veil
Is rent ; revealing the most holy place,
Wherein the cherubim their wings extend,
O’ershadowing the mercy-seat of God.
Appalled, the leaning soldier feels the spear

Shake in his grasp ; the planted standard falls Upon the heaving ground; the sun is dimmed, And darkness shrouds the body of the Lord.


The setting orb of night her level ray
Shed o'er the land, and on the dewy sward
The lengthened shadows of the triple cross
Were laid far stretched,—when in the east arose,
Last of the stars, day's harbinger: no sound
Was heard, save of the watching soldier's foot :
Within the rock-barred sepulchre, the gloom
Of deepest midnight brooded o'er the dead,
The Holy One : but, lo! a radiance faint
Began to dawn around his sacred brow :
The linen vesture seemed a snowy wreath,
Drifted by storms into a mountain cave :
Bright and more bright the circl halo beamed
Upon that face, clothed in a smile benign,
Though yet exanimate. Nor long the reign
Of death; the eyes that wept for human griefs
Unclose, and look around with conscious joy.
Yes; with returning life, the first emotion
That glowed in Jesus' breast of love, was joy
At man's redemption, now complete ; at death
Disarmed ; the grave transformed into the couch
Of faith ; the resurrection and the life.
Majestical he rose: trembled the earth ;
The ponderous gate of stone was rolled away ;
The keepers fell; the angel, awe-struck, sunk
Into invisibility, while forth

The Saviour of the world walked, and stood
Before the sepulchre, and viewed the clouds
Empurpled glorious by the rising sun.


The evening of that day, which saw the Lord
Rise from the chambers of the dead, was come.
His faithful followers, assembled, sang
A hymn, low-breathed ; a hymn of sorrow, blent
With hope; when, in the midst, sudden he stood.
The awe-struck circle backward shrink; he looks
Around with a benignant smile of love,
And says, Peace be unto you : faith and joy
Spread o'er each face, amazed, as when the moon,
Pavilioned in dark clouds, mildly comes forth,
Silvering a circlet in the fleecy ranks.


BUNAL OF THE AREOPAGUS. LISTEN that voice ! upon the hill of Mars, Rolling in bolder thunders than e'er pealed From lips that shook the Macedonian throne; Behold his dauntless outstretched arm, his face Illumed of heaven : he knoweth not the fear Of man, of principalities, of powers.

The Stoic's moveless frown; the vacant stare Of Epicurus' herd ; the scowl and gnash malign Of Superstition, stopping both her ears ;

The Areopagite tribunal dread,
From whence the doom of SOCRATES was utter-

ed ;

This hostile throng dismays him not; he seems
As if no worldly object could inspire
A terror in his soul ; as if the vision,
Which, when he journeyed to Damascus, shone
From heaven, still swam before his eyes,
Out-dazzling all things earthly; as if the voice
That spake from out the effulgence, ever rang
Within his ear, inspiring him with words,
Burning, majestic, lofty, as his theme,-
The resurrection, and the life to come.



The Judge ascended the judgment-seat ;
Amid a gleam of spears the Apostle stood.
Dauntless he forward came, and looked around,
And raised his voice, at first in accents low,
Yet clear ; a whisper spread among the throng :
So when the thunder mutters, still the breeze
Is heard, at times, to sigh ; but when the peal,
Tremendous, louder rolls, a silence dead
Succeeds each pause,-moveless the aspen leaf.
Thus fixed and motionless, the listening band
Of soldiers forward leaned, as from the man,
Inspired of God, truth's awful thunders rolled.
No more he feels, upon his high-raised arm,
The ponderous chain, than does the playful child

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