"A little while," and all around, The earth, the sea, the sky, The sunny light, and sound Of nature's minstrelsy, Shall be as they had never been, And we so weak and vile Be creatures of a brighter scene— We only wait" a little while." NATURE A GUIDE AND A REPROVER. EDMUND PEEL. Oh, FOR a flowing tongue and spirit free Whom, teaching by the Galilean shore, To join in Nature's universal song! O'er wo and pain, and death, a ghastly throng! THE VOICES AT THE THRONE. T. WESTWOOD. A LITTLE child, A little meek-faced, quiet, village child, Caught the faint melody—no human eye Beheld the upturn'd aspect, or the smile That wreathed her innocent lips the while they breathed The oft-repeated burden of the hymn, "Praise God! praise God!" A seraph by the Throne, In the full glory, stood. With eager hand He smote the golden harpstrings, till a flood Well'd forth, unceasing. Then with a great voice, Lord God Almighty!" and the eternal courts To its full strength; and still the infinite heavens Ev'n as a fountain's music with the roll Of the reverberate thunder. Loving smiles Lit up the beauty of each angel's face At that new utterance. Smiles of joy that grew More joyous yet, as ever and anon Was heard the simple burden of the hymn, "Praise God! praise God!" And when the seraph's song Had reach'd its close, and o'er the golden lyre Silence hung brooding-when the eternal courts Still through the abysmal space, that wand'ring voice Still murmur'd sweet on the celestial air, ST PETER'S AT ROME. "And when he thought thereon, he wept." "SOLACE OF SONG." WHO sits, a sceptred monarch in his hall, What would ambition more? Eternal Rome Seals with his name the emblems of her pride High in the chamber of her proudest dome, |