III.

12. DAY: A PASTORAL,

Ο

PART THIRD-EVENING.

'ER the heath1 the heifer strays
Free (the furrowed tåsk is done);
Now the village windows blaze,

Bûrnished by the setting sun.
2. Now he sets behind the hill,
Sinking from a gōlden sky :
Can the pencil's mimic skill
Copy the refulgent 2 dye?
3. Trudging as the plowmen go

(To the smoking hamlet bound),
Giant-like their shadows grow,
Lengthened o'er the level ground.
4. Where the rising forest spreads
Shelter for the lordly dome,
To their high-built, airy beds,
See the rooks returning home.
5. As the lark, with varied tune,
Cărols to the evening loud,
Mark the mild, resplendent moon
Breaking through a parted cloud.

6. Now the hermit owlet 5

peeps

From the barn or twisted brake;
And the blue mist slowly creeps,
Curling on the silver lake.

7. As the trout in speckled pride,
Playful from its bosom springs,

Heath, a plant which beârs beautiful flowers. Its leaves are small, and continue green all the year; a place overgrown with heath. 2 Re ful'ġent, casting a bright light; brilliant; splendid.

3 Rook (ruk), a bird that looks

6

much like the crow, but which feeds mostly on seeds and grain.

4 Re splendent, shining with luster; very bright.

5

Owl'et, a little owl also, as here, an owl.

6 Bosom (by zum).

1 Allan Cunningham, a Scottish born at Black wood in 1785, and died poet and miscellaneous writer, was

TH

IV.

13. SONGS OF THE NIGHT.

men go

HE world hath its night. It seemèth necessary that it should have one. The sun shinèth by day, and forth to their labors; but they grow weary, and nightfall comèth on, like a sweet boon from heaven.

2. The darkness drawèth the eûrtains, and shuttèth out the light, which might prevent our eyes from slumber; while the sweet, calm stillnèss of the night permits us to rest upon the lap of ease, and thêre forget ǎwhile our câres, until the morning sun appearèth, and an angel puts his hand upon the curtain, and undraws it once again, touches our eyelids, and bids us rise, and proceed to the labors of the day.

3. Night is one of the greatest blessings men enjoy: we have many reasons to thank God for it. Yět night is to many a gloomy season. There is "the pestilence that walkèth in darknèss; "there is "the terror by night;" there is the dread of robbers and of fell disease, with all those fears that the timorous 1 know, when they have no light wherewith they can dişcern objects.

4. It is then they fancy that spiritual creatures walk the earth; though, if they knew rightly, they would find it to be trụe, that “millions of spiritual creatures walk this earth unseen, bōth when we sleep and when we wake ;" and that at all times they are round about us-not more by night than by day. 5. Night is the season of terror and alarm to mōst men. Yět even night hath its songs. Have you never stood by the seaside at night, and heard the pebbles sing, and the waves chant God's glōries? Or have you never risen from your couch, and thrown up the window of your chamber, and listened thêre?

6. Listened to what? Silence-save now and then a mûrmûring sound, which seems sweet music then. And have you not fancied that you heard the harp of God playing in heaven? Did you not conceive, that yon stars, those eyes of God, looking down on you, were also mouths of song-that every star was singing God's glōry, singing, as it shōne, its mighty Maker, and his lawful, well-deserved praise?

1 Tim'or oŭs, fearful of danger; without courage; timid.

7. Night hath its songs. We need not much poëtry in our spirit to catch the song of night, and hear the spheres as they chant praises which are loud to the heart, though they be silent to the ear-the praises of the mighty God, who bears up the unpillared arch of heaven, and moves the stars in their courses. SPURGEON.2

V.

14. THE EVENING HOUR.

WEET evening hour! Dear evening hour!
That cälms the âir and shuts the flower;
That brings the wild bird to its nest,

The infant to its mother's breast.

2. Sweet hour! that bids the laborer cease;
That gives the weary team release,

And leads them hōme, and crowns them thêre
With rest and shelter, food and câre.

3. O season of soft sounds and hues ;
Of twilight walks among the dews;
Of tender memories, converse sweet-
And thoughts too shadowy to repeat !
4. Yes, lovely hour! thou art the time
When feelings flow and wishes climb,
When timid souls begin to dâre,
And God receives and answers prâyer.

5. Then, trembling, from the vaulted skies
The stars look out, like thoughtful eyes
Of angels cälm reclining thêre,
And gazing on our world of câre.

6. Sweet hour! for heavenly musing made,
When Iṣaae walked, and Daniël prayed,
When Abram's offerings God did own,
And man may worship Him ǎlōne !

1 Spheres, globes, worlds, or stars. 2 Charles Haddon Spurgeon, a distinguished English preacher of the Baptist denomination, was born at

Kelvedon, Essex, June 19, 1834. The chapel where he preaches, in London, is of great size. Several volumes of his sermons have been published.