For she ye carry was a gentle bud,

Loved by the unsunn'd drops of silver dew;
Her voice was like the whisper of the wood
In prime of even, when the stars are few.
Lay her all gently in the flowerful mould;
Weep with her one brief hour; then turn away,-
Go to Hope's prison,-and from out the cold
And solitary gratings many a day

Look forth 'tis said the world is growing old,—

:

And streaks of orient light in Time's horizon play.

HARVEST HYMN.

Mrs. Hemans.

Now Autumn strews on every plain
His mellow fruits and fertile grain;
And laughing Plenty, crown'd with sheaves,
With purple grapes, and spreading leaves,
In rich profusion pours around

Her flowing treasures on the ground.
Oh! mark the great, the liberal Hand,
That scatters blessings o'er the land;
And to the God of Nature raise

The grateful song, the hymn of praise.

The infant corn, in vernal hours,
He nurtured with his gentle showers,

And bade the summer clouds diffuse
Their balmy store of genial dews.
He mark'd the tender stem arise,
Till ripen'd by the glowing skies;
And now, matured, his work behold,
The cheering harvest waves in gold.
To nature's God with joy we raise
The grateful song, the hymn of praise.
The valleys echo to the strains
Of blooming maids, and village swains
To Him they tune the lay sincere,
Whose bounty crowns the smiling year.
The sounds from every woodland borne,
The sighing winds that bend the corn,
The yellow fields around proclaim
His mighty, everlasting Name.

To Nature's God united raise

The grateful song, the hymn of praise.

;

THE STARS.

Mrs. Hemans.

No cloud obscures the summer sky,

The moon in brightness walks on high,

And, set in azure, every star,

Shines, a pure gem of heaven, afar !

Child of the earth! oh! lift thy glance
To yon bright firmament's expanse;
The glories of its realm explore,
And gaze, and wonder, and adore!

Doth it not speak to every sense
The marvels of Omnipotence?

Seest thou not there the Almighty Name,
Inscribed in characters of flame?

Count o'er those lamps of quenchless light, That sparkle through the shades of night; Behold them!-can a mortal boast

To number that celestial host?

Mark well each little star, whose rays
In distant splendour meet thy gaze;
Each is a world, by Him sustain'd,
Who from eternity hath reign'd.

Each, kindled not for earth alone,

Hath circling planets of its own,
And beings, whose existence springs
From Him, the all-powerful King of kings.

Haply, those glorious beings know

No stain of guilt, nor tear of woe;

But, raising still the adoring voice,
For ever in their God rejoice.

What then art thou, oh! child of clay!
Amid creation's grandeur, say?

E’en as an insect on the breeze,
E’en as a dew-drop lost in seas!

Yet fear thou not !—the sovereign Hand,
Which spread the ocean and the land,
And hung the rolling spheres in air,
Hath, e'en for thee, a father's care!

Be thou at peace!—the all-seeing Eye,
Pervading earth, and air, and sky,
The searching glance which none may flee,
Is still, in mercy, turn'd on thee.

PRAYER.

James Montgomery.

PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire

Utter'd or unexpress'd;

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,
The falling of a tear;

The upward glancing of an eye,

When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech, That infant lips can try ;

Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air;

His watchword at the gates of death-
He enters heaven by prayer.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;

While angels in their songs rejoice,
"Behold he prays!"

And say,

The saints, in prayer, appear as one,
In word, and deed, and mind,
When, with the Father and his Son,
Their fellowship they find.

No prayer is made on earth alone;
The Holy Spirit pleads;

And Jesus, on the eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.