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The distant bleating, midway up the hill.
Calmness sits throned on yon unmoving cloud.
To him who wanders o'er the upland leas,

The blackbird's note comes mellower from the dale;
And sweeter from the sky the gladsome lark
Warbles with heaven-tuned song; the lulling brook
Murmurs more gently down the deep-worn glen;
While, from yon lowly roof, whose curling smoke
O'ermounts the mist, is heard, at intervals,

The voice of psalms,-the simple song of praise.

With dove-like wings, Peace o'er yon village broods:
The dizzying mill-wheel rests; the anvil's din
Hath ceased; all, all around is quietness.

Less fearful, on this day, the limping hare
Stops, and looks back, and stops, and looks on man,
Her deadliest foe. The toil-worn horse, set free,
Unheedful of the pasture, roams at large;

And as his stiff, unwieldy bulk he rolls,
His iron-armed hoofs gleam in the morning ray.

But chiefly man the day of rest enjoys. Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day. On other days, the man of toil is doomed To eat his joyless bread lonely,—the ground Both seat and board, screened from the winter's cold' And summer's heat, by neighboring hedge or tree; But on this day, embosomed in his home, He shares the frugal meal with those he loves; With those he loves, he shares the heart-felt joy Of giving thanks to God,—not thanks of form, A word and a grimace; but reverently, With covered face, and upward, earnest eye.

Hail, Sabbath! thee I hail, the poor man's day:
The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe
The morning air, pure from the city's smoke;
While, wandering slowly up the river's side,
He meditates on Him, whose power he marks
In each green tree that proudly spreads the bough,

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tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom ts roots; and while he thus surveys, vated joy, each rural charm,

3,-yet fears presumption in the hope,ven may be one Sabbath without end.

LESSON CXIII.

The Evening Cloud: a Sonnet.-WILSON.

UD lay cradled near the setting sunleam of crimson tinged its braided snow; had I watched the glory moving on, r the still radiance of the lake below. uil its spirit seemed, and floated slow; n in its very motion there was rest, every breath of eve, that chanced to blow, fted the traveller to the beauteous westem, methought, of the departed soul, whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given, by the breath of mercy made to roll ht onward to the golden gates of heaven; e, to the eye of faith, it peaceful ies, ells to man his glorious destinies.

LESSON CXIV.

Twilight,-Hope.-HALLECK.

as an evening twilight of the heart,
à its wild passion waves are lulled to rest,

e eye sees life's fairy scenes depart,
des the day-beam in the rosy west.

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Tis with a nameless feeling of regret
We gaze upon them as they melt away,
And fondly would we bid them linger yet;

But Hope is round us, with her angel lay,
Hailing afar some happier moonlight hour;

Dear are her whispers still, though lost their early power.

In youth, the cheek was crimsoned with her glow;
Her smile was loveliest then; her matin song
Was heaven's own music, and the note of wo
Was all unheard her sunny bowers among.
Life's little world of bliss was newly born;

We knew not, cared not, it was born to die.
Flushed with the cool breeze and the dews of morn,
With dancing heart we gazed on the pure sky,
And mocked the passing clouds that dimmed its blue,
Like our own sorrows then-as fleeting and as few.

And manhood felt her sway, too; on the eye,
Half realized, her early dreams burst bright;
Her promised bower of happiness seemed nigh,-
Its days of joy, its vigils of delight;

And though, at times, might lower the thunder-storm,
And the red lightnings threaten, still the air

Was balmy with her breath, and her loved form,
The rainbow of the heart, was hovering there.

'Tis in life's noontide she is nearest seen,

Her wreath the summer flower, her robe of summer green

But though less dazzling in her twilight dress,

There's more of heaven's pure beam about her now; That angel-smile of tranquil loveliness,

Which the heart worships, glowing on her brow—
That smile shall brighten the dim evening star,
That points our destined tomb, nor e'er depart
Till the faint light of life is fled afar,

And hushed the last deep beating of the heart,-
The meteor-bearer of our parting breath,
A moon-beam in the midnight cloud of death.

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LESSON CXV.

Perpetual Adoration.-MOORE.

E turf shall be my fragrant shrine; temple, Lord, that arch of thine; - censer's breath the mountain airs, d silent thoughts my only prayers.

- choir shall be the moonlight waves, en murmuring homeward to their caves; when the stillness of the sea,

en more than music, breathes of thee.

seek, by day, some glade unknown,
light and silence, like thy throne;
d the pale stars shall be, at night,
e only eyes that watch my rite.

y heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, all be my pure and shining book, here I shall read, in words of flame, e glories of thy wondrous name.

read thy anger in the rack,

at clouds awhile the day-beam's track; ■y mercy, in the azure hue

sunny brightness, breaking through.

ere's nothing bright, above, below, om flowers that bloom, to stars that glow, t in its light my soul can see

me feature of thy Deity!

here's nothing dark, below, above,
t in its gloom I trace thy love;
ad meekly wait that moment, when
ay touch shall turn all bright again.

LESSON CXVI.

Music of Nature.—PIERPONT.

In what rich harmony, what polished lays,
Should man address thy throne, when Nature pays
Her wild, her tuneful tribute to the sky!

Yes, Lord, she sings thee, but she knows not why.
The fountain's gush, the long-resounding shore,
The zephyr's whisper, and the tempest's roar,
The rustling leaf, in autumn's fading woods,
The wintry storm, the rush of vernal floods,
The summer bower, by cooling breezes fanned,
The torrent's fall, by dancing rainbows spanned,
The streamlet, gurgling through its rocky glen,
The long grass, sighing o'er the graves of men,
The bird that crests yon dew-bespangled tree,
Shakes his bright plumes, and trills his descant free,
The scorching bolt, that, from thine armory hurled,
Burns its red path, and cleaves a shrinking world;
All these are music to Religion's ear :—

Music, thy hand awakes, for man to hear.

LESSON CXVII.

Comparison of Watches.-Miss Edgeworth.

WHEN Griselda thought that her husband had long enough njoyed his new existence, and that there was danger of his orgetting the taste of sorrow, she changed her tone.—One ay, when he had not returned home exactly at the appointed inute, she received him with a frown; such as would have ade even Mars himself recoil, if Mars could have beheld ach a frown upon the brow of his Venus.

"Dinner has been kept waiting for you this hour, my dear." "I am very sorry for it; but why did you wait, my dear am really very sorry I am so late, but" (looking at his watch) it is only half past six by me."

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