Go to thy glorious home, I would not stay thee, Fade on, fade on, as sweet day yields to night; And if the darkness for a while array thee, "Tis but to clothe thee in a day more bright. Yet blame not that my heart is wildly heaving, Triumph and joy are in my tears for thee, And if there mingle with them tears of grieving, How should the living from life's pangs be free? Light love may fade, and youthful zeal may perish, And thou art going-not as spring-flowers wither To the bright stars in lofty myriads burning, To the calm clouds piled in the summer air, Oft shall I look with love's fond helpless yearning, But none will tell me if thy home be there. The haunts that knew thee, glade, and hearth, and bower, They will be silent when I bid them speak : And living friends, question'd till life's last hour, They will but tell me-" Gone is she you seek!" Yet go, yet go, e'en though I know not whither, Save that where God is, will thy dwelling be, Oft shall I feel thy spirit say—" Come hither!" Oft will mine answer-" Soon I come to thee!" GOD IS LIGHT. Binney. ETERNAL Light! Eternal Light! When, placed within thy searching sight, The spirits that surround thy throne O! how can I, whose native sphere Before th' Ineffable appear, And on my naked spirit bear That uncreated beam? There is a way for man to rise These, these, prepare man for the sight The sons of ignorance and night THE STAR OF THE MORNING. Anonymous. STAR of the morn, whose placid ray I saw thee rise on Salem's towers, I saw thee shine on gospel lands, And waked to ecstacy his bands; Shine, lovely star! on ev'ry clime, For bright thy peerless beauties be; And shed thy rays from sea to sea! THE PIOUS MAN A BLESSING TO THE WORLD. Cowper. PERHAPS the self-approving, haughty world, That, as she sweeps him with her whistling silks, Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes And think on her who thinks not for herself. MORNING. Rev. J. Keble. HUES of the rich unfolding morn, Around his path are taught to swell ; Thou rustling breeze, so fresh and gay, Ye fragrant clouds of dewy steam, |