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Gop bids the sun ascend the skies,
And heaven and earth rejoice ;
Obedient to His voice.
Unheeded as we roam,
He leads His children home.
On hearing the Church Bells, while long confined by
That awful call I hear,
When sabbath morns appear.
Devoted hearts to bring ;
Their MAKER's praise to sing ;
In slow procession by ;
That meet my ear and eye,
Oft wasted, unimprov'd ;
Of friends whom earth remov'd.
While here my moveless useless frame
So long remains confin'd,
Light up my darken'd mind.
To melt my frozen heart,
Would vital warmth impart.
Where happier friends adore, Would'st Thou reveal Thy gracious face,
My soul would droop no more.
A contrite spirit bend,
And claim a Heavenly Friend;
pay, The sorrows of a soul sincere
Thou wilt not cast away.
With cordials from above,
And tell me-God is love,
Attempt in vain to scan;
The helpless race of man.
The captive souls to free,
Be vainly sought by me!
Teach me to pray, teach me to love,
And all my sorrows end !
Dispel this mournful gloom,
My passage to the tomb.
THE SEASONS.-By an American Lady. I Love the rising grace, the varied charms,
Which on the Earth's enamellid bosom play, When Nature bursts from April's humid arms,
And springs impatient to the Ides of May. I love the rip’ning beam, the fervid glow,
Which crowns with full maturity the year ; When busy Summer shows his swarthy brow,
And severs from the root the bending ear. I love the rich profusion Autumn yields,
When, in his party-colour'd robes array'd He treads triumphant o'er the lighten'd fields,
And twines their rifled honours round his head.
I love the bright effulgence Winter wears,
When o'er the plains his fleecy showers descend, And the soft germs which shiv'ring Nature bears,
From the rude blasts and piercing cold defend. I love-but ah! such matchless beauties rise,
So thick the forms of varied goodness throng, That sweet confusion dims my wond'ring eyes,
And swelling transports overpower my song: For still the impress of a Hand Divine
Marks each mutation of this earthly ball, Through all its scenes parental bounties shine
FATHER of light and life! I love them all.
FROM THE SONG OF DAVID.
On which all things depend :
Commence, and reign, and end.
Dale, champaign, grove, and hill ;
And Wisdom hides her skill.
And smitten to the heart ;
Replied, O LORD, THOU ART!
FROM THE GERMAN OF KLIEST.
How rich the splendors of the western skies,
vale, The streams, low murmuring, glide along the
plains, Or Night's sad songstress chants her long-drawn
O Thou! my guide divine! whose sacred power
, And bid unclouded shine its last declining ray. And ye! than wealth more priz’d, than fame
more dear, Ye friends for ever lov'd, ye chosen few! Who o'er the failings of a heart sincere With generous hand the veil of friendship drew! Shed o'er my latest hour one parting tear, To fond remembrance give one tender sigh, When the faint shadows of this earthly sphere
Shall sink in death before my closing eye, In trembling transport rais'd to glorious scenes on
THEODORE AND ROSETTA, OR THE DAY-FLY.
Theo. Where had you those sweet flowers,
Rosetta, say Ros. O Theodore, I got them by the way, You of our great man's garden know the fame, And as I tow'rds you with our dinner came, I saw it open, and my greedy eye Stood at the door its beauties to descry, When a kind maid, who of the flow'rs took care, Invited me to take the garden air ; At parting, she, her neighbour to endear, Gave me the flow'rs and fruits which I have here.
Theo. We'll eat the fruit for banquet to our meal, But what is that you in your hand conceal ?