FOR ST. JAMES'S DAY.

THOUGH Sorrows rise and dangers roll
In waves of darkness o'er my soul,
Though friends are false and love decays;
And few and evil are my days,
Though conscience, fiercest of my foes,
Swells with remembered guilt my woes,
Yet ev'n in nature's utmost ill,

I love thee, Lord! I love thee still!

Though Sinai's curse, in thunder dread,
Peals o'er mine unprotected head,
And memory points, with busy pain,
To grace and mercy given in vain,
Till nature, shrieking in the strife,
Would fly to hell, to 'scape from life,
Though every thought has power to kill,
I love thee, Lord! I love thee still!

Oh, by the pangs thyself hast borne,
The ruffian's blow, the tyrant's scorn;
By Sinai's curse, whose dreadful doom
Was buried in thy guiltless tomb:

・

By these my pangs, whose healing smart ...Thy grace hath planted in my heart; I know, I feel thy bounteous will! Thou lovest me, Lord! thou lovest me still!

MICHAELMAS DAY.

OH, captain of God's host, whose dreadful might Led forth to war the armed Seraphim, And from the starry height,

Subdued in burning fight,

Cast down that ancient dragon, dark and grim!

Thine angels, Christ! we laud in solemn lays, Our elder brethren of the erystal sky,

Who, 'mid thy glory's blaze,

The ceaseless, anthem raise;"
And gird thy throne in faithful ministry!

We celebrate their love, whose viewless wing
Hath left for us so oft their mansion high,
The mercies of their king,

To mortal saints to bring,

Or guard the couch of slumbering infancy.

But thee, the first and last, we glorify, Who, when thy world was sunk in death and sin, Not with thine hierarchy,

The armies of the sky;

But didst with thine own arm the battle win,

Alone didst pass the dark and dismal shore Alone didst tread the wine-press, and alone, All glorious in thy gore,

Didst light and life restore,
To us who lay in darkness and undone!

Therefore, with angels and archangels, we To thy dear love our thankful chorus raise, And tune our songs to thee

Who art, and ought to be,

And, endless as thy mercies, sound. thy praise!

IN TIMES OF DISTRESS AND
DANGER.

OH God, that madest earth and sky, the darkness and the day,

Give ear to this, thy family, and help us when we pray!

For wide the waves of bitterness around our vessel roar,

And heavy grows the pilot's heart to view the rocky shore!

.The cross our master bore for us, for him we fain would bear,

But mortal strength to weakness turns, and courage to despair!

Then mercy on our failings, Lord! our sinking faith renew!

And when thy sorrows visit us, oh send thy patience too!

INTENDED TO BE SUNG

ON OCCASION OF HIS PREACHING A SERMON FOR
THE CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY, IN
APRIL, 1820.

FROM Greenland's icy mountains,-
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's 'sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver

Their land from error's chain!

What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile:
In yain with lavish kindness

The gifts of God are strown,
The heathen, in his blindness,.
Bows down to wood and stone!

Can we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high, Can we to men benighted

The lamp of life deny? Salvation! oh salvation !

The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation

Has learned Messiah's name!

Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,

It spreads from pole to pole;
Till o'er our ransomed nature,
The lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign!

AN INTROIT

TO BE SUNG BETWEEN THE LITANY AND COMMUNION, SERVICE.

OH most merciful!«

Oh most bountiful!
God the Father Almighty!
By the Redeemer's
Sweet intercession

Hear us, help us when we cry!

BEFORE THE SACRAMENT. BREAD of the world, in mercy broken! Wine of the soul in mercy shed! By whom the words of life were spoken, And in whose death our sins are dead!

Look on the heart by sorrow broken,

Look on the tears by sinners shed, And be thy feast to, us the token That by thy grace our souls are fed!

AT A FUNERAL.

BENEATH Our feet and o'er our head
Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven!

Their names are graven on the stone,
Their bones are in the clay;
And ere another day is done,
Ourselves may be as they.

Death rides on every passing breeze,
He lurks in every flower;
Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour!

Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay,
And Fate descend in sudden night
On manhood's middle day,

Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly towards the tomb,
And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?

Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know;

Where'er thy foot can tread
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead! ·

Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply
To truths divinely given;
The bones that underneath thee lie
Shall live for hell or heaven!

STANZAS

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.

THOU art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee,

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the

tomb:

Thy Saviour has passed through its portal before thee,

And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom!

Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee,

Nor tread the rough paths of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee,

And sinners may die, for the SINLESS has died!

Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking,

Perchance thy weak spirit in fear lingered long; But the mild rays of paradise beamed. on thy waking,

And the sound which thou heardst was the seraphim’s song!

Thou art gone to the graye! but we will not deplore thee,

Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide;

He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee,

And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died!*

: The following stanzas were written as an addition to the above hymn, by an English clergyman, on hearing of the decease of the author.

ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. OH, Saviour of the faithful dead,

With whom thy servants dwell,
Though cold and green the turf is spread
Above their narrow cell,―

No more we cling to mortal clay,
We doubt and fear no more,

Nor shrink to tread the darksome way
Which thou hast trod before!

'Twas hard from those I loved to go,

Who knelt around my bed,

Whose tears bedewed my burning brow,

Whose arms upheld my head!

As fading from my dizzy view,

I sought their forms in vain,
The bitterness of death I knew,
And groaned to live again.

'Twas dreadful when th' accuser's power
Assailed my sinking heart,
Recounting every wasted hour,
And each unworthy part:

But, Jesus! in that mortal fray,

THE FIRST OLYMPIC ODE.

Can honour give to actions ill, And faith to deeds incredible;-.

RACE.

CAN earth, or fire, or liquid air,
With water's sacred stream compare?
Can aught that wealthy tyrants hold
Surpass the lordly blaze of gold?→
Or lives there one, whose restless eye.
Would seek along the empty sky;
Beneath the sun's meridian ray,
A warmer star, a purer day?+
O thou, my soul, whose choral song,
Would tell of contests sharp and strong,
Extol not other lists above
The circus of Olympian Jove;
Whence borne on many a tuneful tongue,
So Saturn's seed the anthem sung,
With harp, and flute, and trumpet's call,
Hath sped to Hiero's festival.-

Over sheep-clad Sicily

Who the righteous sceptre beareth, Every flower of virtue's tree

Wove in various wreath he weareth.

But the bud of poesy..

Is the fairest flower of all; Which the bards, in social glée,

Strew round Hiero's wealthy hall.The harp on yonder pin suspended,

Seize it, boy, for Pisa's sake;

And that good steed's, whose thought will wake A joy with anxious fondness blended:No sounding lash his sleek side rended ;

By Alpheus' brink, with feet of flame, Self-driven, to the goal he tended:

:

And earned the olive wreath of fame
For that dear lord, whose righteous name
The sons of Syracusa tell :-
Who loves the generous courser well:
Beloved himself by all who dwell
In Pelop's Lydian colony.+
-Of earth-embracing Neptune, he
The darling, when, in days of yore,
All lovely from the caldron red
By Clotho's spell delivered,
The youth an ivory shoulder bore.-

-Well!-these are tales of mystery!-
And many a darkly-woven lie
With men will easy credence gain;
While truth, calm truth, may speak in vain;
For eloquence, whose honeyed sway
Our frailer mortal wits obey,

Fall truest from posterity.—

But, if we dare the deeds rehearse
Of those that aye endure,

"T were meet that in such dangerous verse
Our every word were pure.-
Then, son of Tantalus, receive

A plain unvarnished lay!—
My song shall elder fables leave,
And of thy parent say,
That, when in heaven a favoured guest,
He called the gods in turns to feast.
On Sipylus, his mountain home:-
The sovereign of the ocean foam,"
-Can mortal from such favour prove?
Rapt thee on golden car above
To highest house of mighty Jove;

To which, in after day,
Came golden-haired Ganymede,,
As bard in ancient story read,

The dark-winged eagle's prey.

And when no earthly tongue could tell
The fate of thee, invisible;-
Nor friends, who sought thee wide in vain,
To soothe thy weeping mother's pain,
Could bring the wanderer home again;

Some envious neighbour's spleen,
In distant hints, and darkly, said,
That in the caldron hissing red,
And on the god's great table spread,

Thy mangled limbs were seen.But who shall tax, I dare not; I, The blessed gods with gluttony? Full oft the sland'rous tongue has felt By their high wrath the thunder dealt;And sure, if ever mortal head Heaven's holy watchers honoured,

That head was Lydia's lord.Yet, could not mortal heart digest The wonders of that heavenly feast; Elate with pride, a thought unblest

Above his nature soared. And now, condemned to endless dread,(Such is the righteous doom of fate,), eyes, above his guilty head,

He

The shadowy rocks' impending weight:The fourth, with that tormented three(1) In horrible society!

For youthful knights thirteen
By him have slaughtered been,
His daughter vexing with perverse. delay.
Such to a coward's eye.
Were evil augury;-

Nor durst a coward's heart the strife essay!
Yet, since alike to all

The doom of death must fall,
Ah! wherefore, sitting in unseemly shade,
Wear out a nameless life,

Remote from noble strife,

And all the sweet applause to valour paid?Yes!--I will dare the course! but, thou, Immortal friend, my prayer allow!"

Thus, not in vain, his grief he told-
The ruler of the wat'ry space
Bestowed a wondrous car of gold,
And tireless steeds of winged pace.-
So, victor in the deathful race,

He tamed the strength of Pisa's king, And, from his bride of beauteous face,