THE ANGEL'S REPLY TO THE WOMEN

AT THE SEPULCHRE.

Boddridge.

YE humble souls, that fear the Lord,

Chase all your fears away;

And bow with pleasure down to see,

The place where Jesus lay.

Thus low the Lord of Life was brought-
Such wonders love can do!

Thus cold in death that bosom lay
Which throbb'd and bled for you.

A moment give a loose to grief,
Let grateful sorrows rise;
And wash the bloody stains away
With torrents from your eyes.

Then dry your tears, and tune your songs, The Saviour lives again;

Not all the bolts and bars of death

The conqueror could detain.

High o'er the angelic band he rears

His once dishonour'd head;

And through unnumber'd years he reigns

Who dwelt among the dead.

With joy like his shall ev'ry saint
His empty tomb survey:
Then rise with his ascending Lord,
To realms of endless day.

ODE TO PEACE.

Professor Tennant.

DAUGHTER of God! that sit'st on high,
Amid the dances of the sky,

And guidest with thy gentle sway
The planets on their tuneful way;
Sweet Peace! shall ne'er again
The smile of thy most holy face,
From thine ethereal dwelling-place,
Rejoice the wretched, weary race
Of discord-breathing man?

Too long, O gladness-giving Queen;
Thy tarrying in heaven has been;

Too long o'er this fair blooming world
The flag of blood has been unfurl'd,
Polluting God's pure day;

Whilst, as each maddening people reels,
War onward drives his scythed wheels,
And at his horse's bloody heels
Shriek Murder and Dismay.

Oft have I wept to hear the cry
Of widow wailing bitterly;

To see the parent's silent tear

For children fallen beneath the spear;

And I have felt so sore

The sense of human guilt and woe,
That I, in Virtue's passion'd glow,

Have cursed (my soul was wounded so)
The shape of Man I bore!

Then come from thy serene abode,
Thou gladness-giving Child of God!

And cease the world's ensanguined strife,

And reconcile my soul to life;

For much I long to see,

Ere to the grave I down descend,

Thy hand her blessed branch extend,

And to the world's remotest end

Wave Love and Harmony!

THE WISH OF THE HEAVEN-BORN SPIRIT.

A. Young.

'Having a desire to depart, and be with Christ."

OH! this is not my rest,

I long to mount and soar away;
To gain the mansions of the blest,
And lay me on that gracious breast
Whose love can not decay.

I long to taste the streams

That glad my Father's holy land ;
Oh! that I could behold its beams,
And join the hallelujah themes

Of that seraphic band.

This distant world is cold

And cheerless to the Christian's eye,
Save when the faithful meet, and hold
Sweet converse of those crowns of gold,
Which they shall wear on high.

Oh! for those holy hours,

That endless Sabbath-day in heaven; When peace, amid its sinless bowers, And never-fading bloom of flowers, Shall all to me be given.

Now let my spirit fly

Away, amid yon starry path, And far beyond the glistening sky Its flight shall be, to meet on high The Author of its faith.

I cannot linger here;

My Saviour! I shall meet thee soon; What now has earth for me so dear

As thine own love? What clime so clear As heaven's eternal noon?

Up to the throne of God,

Ye angels, guide my spirit's flight,

And oh in that divine abode,

My beaming eyes shall gaze abroad

Upon its living light.

Away, on wings of love;

Spread your celestial pinions now, And let me soar, and sing above,