SACRED SONGS.

THOU ART, O GOD!

AIR-Unknown.1

"The day is thine, the night also is thine: thou hast prepared the light and the sun. Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter."-Psalm lxxiv. 16, 17.

I.

THOU art, O God! the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee.
Where'er we turn thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are thine.

II.

When day, with farewell beam, delays
Among the opening clouds of even,
And we can almost think we gaze

Through golden vistas into heaven;
Those hues, that make the sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, Lord! are thine.

III.

When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumber'd eyes;—
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord! are thine.

1 I have heard that this air is by the late Mrs. Sheridan. It is sung to the beautiful old words, "I do confess thou'rt smooth and fair."

IV.

When youthful spring around us breathes,
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower the summer wreathes
Is born beneath that kindling eye.
Where'er we turn thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are thine.

THIS WORLD IS ALL A FLEETING SHOW.

AIR-Stevenson.

I.

THIS world is all a fleeting show
For man's illusion given;
The smiles of joy, the tears of woe,
Deceitful shine, deceitful flow,-

There's nothing true but Heaven!

II.

And false the light on glory's plume,
As fading hues of even;

And Love, and Hope, and Beauty's bloom,
Are blossoms gather'd for the tomb,-
There's nothing bright but Heaven!

III.

Poor wanderers of a stormy day,
From wave to wave we're driven,
And fancy's flash and reason's ray
Serve but to light the troubled way,-
There's nothing calm but Heaven!

FALL'N IS THY THRONE.
AIR-Martini.

I.

FALL'N is thy throne, O Israel!
Silence is o'er thy plains;
Thy dwellings all lie desolate,
Thy children weep in chains.

Where are the dews that fed thee

On Etham's barren shore?

That fire from heaven which led thee,
Now lights thy path no more.

"Go," said the Lord-"ye conquerors!
Steep in her blood your swords,
And raze to earth her battlements,5
For they are not the Lord's!
Till Zion's mournful daughter
O'er kindred bones shall tread,
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter 6
Shall hide but half her dead!"

1 "I have left mine heritage; I have given the dearly beloved of my soul into the hands of her enemies."-Jer. xii. 7.

2 "Do not disgrace the throne of thy glory."-Jer. xiv. 21.

3 "The Lord called thy name, A green olive-tree, fair, and of goodly fruit," &c.-Jer. xi. 16.

4" For he shall be like the heath in the desert."-Jer. xvii. 6.

5 "Take away her battlements; for they are not the Lord's."-Jer. v. 10. 6 "Therefore, behold, the days come, saith the Lord, that it shall no more be called Tophet, nor the valley of the son of Hinnom, but the Valley of Slaughter; for they shall bury in Tophet, till there be no place."-Jer. vii. 32.

WHO IS THE MAID?1

AIR-Beethoven.

I.

WHO is the maid my spirit seeks,
Through cold reproof and slander's blight,
Has she Love's roses on her cheeks?
Is hers an eye of this world's light?
No, wan and sunk with midnight prayer
Are the pale looks of her I love;
Or if, at times, a light-be' there,

Its beam is kindled from above.

II.

I chose not her, my soul's elect,

From those who seek their Maker's shrine
In gems and garlands proudly deck'd,

As if themselves were things divine!
No-Heaven but faintly warms the breast,
That beats beneath a broider'd veil;
And she, who comes in glittering vest
To mourn her frailty, still is frail."

III.

Not so the faded form I prize

And love, because its bloom is gone;
The glory in those sainted eyes

Is all the grace her brow puts on.
And ne'er was Beauty's dawn so bright,
So touching as that form's decay,
Which, like the altar's trembling light,
In holy lustre wastes away!

These lines were suggested by a passage in St. Jerome's reply to some calumnious remarks that had been circulated upon his intimacy with the Matron Paula:-"Numquid me vestes sericæ, nitentes gemmæ, picta facies, aut auri rapuit ambitio? Nulla fuit alia Romæ matronarum, quæ meam possit edomare mentem, nisi lugens atque jejunans, fletu pene cæcata."-Epist. “Si tibi putem."

2 Ov yap Xpvσopopew Tv Sakpvovoav det.-Chrysost. Homil. 8, in Epist.

ad Tim.

THE BIRD LET LOOSE.
AIR-Beethoven.

I.

THE bird, let loose in Eastern skies,'
When hastening fondly home,

Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
Where idle warblers roam.

But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay,

Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.

II.

So grant me, God, from every care,
And stain of passion free,
Aloft, through virtue's purer air,
To hold my course to Thee!
No sin to cloud-no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs ;—
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom in her wings!

O THOU WHO DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S

TEAR!
AIR-Haydn.

"He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds."

I.

Psalm cxlvii. 3.

O THOU who dry'st the mourner's tear!
How dark this world would be,

If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee.

The friends, who in our sunshine live,

When winter comes are flown:
And he, who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone.

But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw

Their fragrance from the wounded part,

Breathes sweetness out of woe.

The carrier pigeon, it is well known, flies at an elevated pitch, in order to surmount every obstacle between her and the place to which she is destined.