As a lone moraliser midst the vaults Hath vext the serious slumber of the dead; Who watch beside the golden stringed harp! Ye, who erst bore upon your ready wings, To heaven's pleased gates, from Salem's holy fane, its loud vibrations, when the shepherd king B Swept the full chords of glorious melody, The humble offering, of the widow's mite. Be touched, that sounds not all unmusical, Alas! my slender skill is only won, Not from the lessons gain'd in learning's school, (Assorting ill with woman's quiet lot,) But from the sacred page of holy writ; I yield my song to the wild air of heaven, In the wide desert of the various world Perchance, some wandering eye, some youthful heart, Weeping its earliest woes, or lonely breast (Albeit unused to dwell and meditate Upon the sacred text) may, from my verse Be led to search the blessed source from whence Till then all unimagin'd, and unfelt. Oh! if such blest and holy fruit should spring Be won from worldly vanity, and giv'n To high and holy thoughts, that rescued hour BIBLE POETRY. THE GLORY OF DAY AND NIGHT. The day is thine, the night also is thine.-Psalm lxxiv. 16. THE day is THINE!-oh THINE the day At morning's tender beam; When first the sun's far-slanting ray Uncertain gilds the stream; And opening flowers their tints display, The day, the glorious day is THINE! In all her pomp and pride; When bright the heavens in splendour shine And high the sun doth ride; For THINE! O Lord, the hand divine Her radiance that supplied. |