Rise from transitory things
T'wards heav'n thy native place.
Sun and moon, and stars decay,
Time shall soon this earth remove;
Rise, my soul, and haste away
To seats prepar'd above.

Rivers to the ocean run,

Nor stay in all their course:
Fire ascending seeks the sun,
Both speed them to their source.
So a soul that's born of God,
Pants to view his glorious face;
Upwards tends to his abode,
To rest in his embrace.

Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn,
Press onward to the prize;
Soon the Saviour will return
Triumphant in the skies.
Yet a season, and you know
Happy entrance will be giv'n,
All our sorrows left below,
And earth exchang'd for heav'n.

ANON.

CONFESSION.

O LORD, my God, in mercy turn,
In mercy hear a sinner mourn!
To thee I call, to thee I cry,
O leave me, leave me not to die!

O pleasures past, what are ye now
But thorns about my bleeding brow!
Spectres, that hover round my brain,
And aggravate and mock my pain,

For pleasure I have given my soul;
Now justice, let thy thunders roll;
Now vengeance smile-and with a blow
Lay the rebellious ingrate low.

Yet Jesus, Jesus! there I'll cling,
I'll crouch beneath his shelt'ring wing;
I'll clasp the cross, and holding there,
Even me, oh bliss! his love may spare.

H. K. WHITE.

THE COMING OF THE LORD.

A VOICE from the desert comes awful and shrill, The Lord is advancing-prepare ye the way; The word of Jehovah he comes to fulfil,

And o'er the dark world pour the splendour of day.

Bring down the proud mountain, tho' tow'ring to heav'n.

And be the low valley exalted on high; The rough path and crooked be made smooth and

ev'n,

For, Sion! your King, your redeemer is nigh.

The beams of salvation his progress illume,

The lone dreary wilderness sings of her God; The rose and the myrtle shall suddenly bloom, And the olive of peace spread its branches abroad.

DRUMMOND.

THE BIRTH OF CHRIST.

BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!
Star of the east the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant redeemer is laid!

Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining,
Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore him in slumber reclining,
Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!

Say shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and off rings divine;
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,

Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation;
Vainly with gold would his favour secure;
Richer by far is the heart's adoration,

Dearer to God are the pray'rs of the poor! Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid! Star of the east the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

HEBER.

ADDRESS TO THE SUN.

NATURE is lavish of her loveliness,

Until that loveliness, if not denied, Becomes a theme, which, whoso would express, And dwell with fondness on, men half deride: And even thou, bright Sun! who in thy pride, And gorgeous beauty, dost so often set

Art scarcely notic'd: -many turn aside

With cold indiffrence from the scene, and yet 'Tis one which he who feels for hours may not

forget!

Have I not found it such, when, at the close
Of a long day in close confinement spent,

I've wander'd forth-and seen thy disk repose
On the horizon of the firmament?-
O! I have gaz'd upon thee-with intent,

And silent ardour, till I could have deem'd,
The clouds which compass'd thee, by thee besprent
With glory, as thy brightness through them
gleam'd,-

Beautiful in themselves with beautiful visions

teem'd.

And I have look'd at them until the story
Of BUNYAN's Pilgrims seem'd a tale most

true:

How he beheld their entrance into glory-
And saw them pass the pearly portal through:-
Catching, meanwhile, a beatific view

Of that bright city-shining like the sun,
Whose glitt'ring streets appear'd of golden hue,
And in them many men-their conflicts done,
Were walking, robed with palms-and crowned
every one!

For can imagination upward soar

To thee, and to thy daily path on high,
Nor feel, if it have never felt before,
Fresh admiration of thy majesty ?
Thy home is in the beautiful blue sky!
From whence thou lookest on this world ofours,
As but one satellite thy beams supply [powers

With light and gladness-thy exhaustless
Call forth in other worlds sweet Spring's returning

flowers.

Yes-as in this, in other worlds the same,

The Seasons do thee homage-each in turn; Spring, with a smile, exults to hear thy name; Then summer woos thy bright but brief sojourn To bless her bowr's; while deeper ardours burn On Autumn's glowing cheek when thou art And even Winter half forgoes her stern [nigh; And frigid aspect, as thy bright'ning eye Falls on her features pale, nor can thy pow'r deny.!

Yet-spite of all:-though thou appear'st to be The type of thy Creator; seeming source Of light and life, on earth, in air, in seaTo countless millions in thy mighty course :Now listening to the dash of ocean hoarse. Upon its rocky marge; or to the sound Of stormy winds, rejoicing in their force; Or softer harmonies which float around From deep and verdant vales, or mountains forestcrown'd:

And though on earth thou hast beheld the sway Of Time, which alters all things; and may'st look

On pyramids as piles of yesterday,
[nook
Which were not in thy youth :-although ne
Of earth, perchance, retain the form it took

When first thou didst behold it:-even thou Must know, in turn, thy strength and glory

strook;

Must lose the radiant crown that decks thy
brow,

Day's regal sceptre yield, and to a Mightier bow!
For thou thyself art but a gaude of Time,
Whose birth with thy original did blend;
Together ye began your course sublime,
And as sublime will be your destin'd end.
For, soon, or late, as Oracles portend,
One final consummation shall ye meet: