THOU ART, O G.o.d.

(Air.--Unknown.)[1]

"The day is thine, the night is also 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.

Thou art, O G.o.d, 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!

When Day, with farewell beam, delays Among the opening clouds of Even, And we can almost think we gaze Thro' golden vistas into Heaven-- Those hues, that make the Sun's decline So soft, so radiant, LORD! are Thine.

When Night, with wings of starry gloom, O'ershadows all the earth and skies, Like some dark, beauteous bird, whose plume Is sparkling with unnumbered eyes-- That sacred gloom, those fires divine, So grand, so countless, LORD! are Thine.

When youthful Spring around us breathes, Thy Spirit warms her fragrant sigh; And every flower the Summer wreaths Is born beneath that kindling eye.

Where'er we turn, thy glories shine, And all things fair and bright 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."

THE BIRD, LET LOOSE.

(AIR.--BEETHOVEN.)

The bird, let loose in eastern skies,[1]

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

But high she shoots thro' air and light, Above all low delay, Where nothing earthly bounds her flight, Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, G.o.d, from every care And stain of pa.s.sion free, Aloft, thro' 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!

[1] 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.

FALLEN IS THY THRONE.

(AIR.--MARTINI.)

Fallen is thy Throne, oh 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 sh.o.r.e?

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

LORD! thou didst love Jerusalem-- Once she was all thy own; Her love thy fairest heritage,[1]

Her power thy glory's throne.[2]

Till evil came, and blighted Thy long-loved olive-tree;[3]-- And Salem's shrines were lighted For other G.o.ds than Thee.

Then sunk the star of Solyma-- Then past her glory's day, Like heath that, in the wilderness,[4]

The wild wind whirls away.

Silent and waste her bowers, Where once the mighty trod, And sunk those guilty towers, While Baal reign'd as G.o.d.

"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 clearly beloved of my soul into the hands of her enemies."--_Jeremiah_, xii. 7.

[2] "Do not disgrace the throne of thy glory."--_Jer_. xiv. 21.

[3] "The LORD called by name a green olive-tree; fair, and of goodly fruit," etc.--_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 or Slaughter; for they shall bury in Tophet till there be no place."-- _Jer_. vii. 32.

WHO IS THE MAID?