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Shake in his grasp; the amazed centurion cries
"This was a son of God!" the standard falls
Upon the heaving ground; the sun is dimm'd,
And darkness shrouds the Saviour of mankind.



THE setting orb of night, its level ray
Shot o'er the land; and, on the dewý sward,
The lengthen'd shadows of the fatal cross
Were laid far stretch'd; when in the cast arose,
Last of the stars, day's harbinger. No sound
Was heard, save of the watching soldier's foot;
Within the sealed 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 seem'd a snowy wreath
Drifted by storms into a mountain cave.
Bright and more bright the circling halo beam'd
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 glow'd in Jesus' breast of love, was joy
At man's redemption, now complete; at death
Disarm'd; the grave transform'd into the couch
Of faith; the resurrection and the life.
Majestical he rose; trembled the earth;

The ponderous gate of stone was roll'd away;

The keepers fell; the angel vanish'd; sunk
Into invisibility; while forth,

The Saviour of the world issued, and stood
Before the sepulchre, and view'd the clouds
Empurpled glorious by the rising sun.


Mrs. Barbauld.

GOD of my life, and Author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise,
And trembling take, upon a mortal tongue,
That hallow'd name, to harps of seraphs sung;
Yet here, the brightest seraphs could no more
Than veil their faces, tremble and adore.
All nature faints beneath the mighty name
Which Nature's works, through all her parts, pro-

I feel that name my inmost thoughts control,
And breathe an awful stillness through my soul.
At thy felt presence, all emotions cease,
And my hush'd spirit rests in sacred peace;
Till every worldly thought within me dies,
And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes;
Till all my sense is lost in infinite,

And one vast object fills my aching sight.
But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions, strives to soar, in vain;
And mingles with the dross of earth again,


But He, our gracious Master, kind as just;
Knowing our frame, remember'th man is dust,
His spirit ever brooding o'er the mind,

Sees the first wish, to better hopes inclin❜d.
Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the softest cry;
His grace descends to meet the lifted eye;
He reads the language of the silent tear,

And sighs an incense from a heart sincere.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give ;
Accept the vow, and bid the suppliant live.
From all terrestrial bondage set me free;
Still every wish that centres not in Thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain diquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.
If the soft hand of winning pleasure lead,
By living waters, and the flowery mead;
When all is smiling, tranquil, and serene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene,
Oh teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart, Beware.
If friendless in a vale of tears I stray,

Where briars wound, and thorns perplex my way;
Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,
And with strong confidence lay hold on Thee,
With equal eye, my various lot receive;
Resign'd to die, or resolute to live;
Prepar'd to kiss the sceptre or the rod,
While God is seen in all, and all in God.

I read his awful name emblazon'd high,
In golden letters on the illumin'd sky.
Nor less the mystic characters I see,
Wrought in each flower, inscrib'd on every tree;
In every leaf that trembles with the breeze,
I hear the voice of God among the trees.
With Thee, in shady solitude I walk;
With Thee, in busy crowded cities talk;
In every creature own thy forming power;
In each event thy providence adore;
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me; and thy fear control.
Thus shall I rest, unmov'd by all alarms,
Secure within the temple of thy arms.

From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in Thee.

Then, when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate
I stand, and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene,
With decent triumph, and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And having liv'd to Thee, in Thee to die.



Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode,


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