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LINES SUGGESTED BY THE VIEW

OF THE ALPS AT SUNRISE FROM THE RIGHI, ON THE BORDERS

OF THE LAKE OF LUCERNE.

REV. THOMAS E. HANKINSON.

O GOD! upon the mountains, in the calm
And beauty of the morning, where each sound
Seems like the accents of a holy psalm

Swept from the lyre of Nature, and the ground
Offers its matin incense wide around,-

O God! upon the mountains is there one

Whose heart receives not, like yon lake profound, The imaged beauty,-sends not back a tone With nature's solemn voice in gentlest unison?

Thy mighty presence is around us,-felt

Not in its terrors, earthquake, storm and fire,
But sights and sounds of harmony, that melt
Into the spirit's depths, 'till each desire
Rises to Thee, as yonder clouds aspire
To the huge mountains' summits, from below

Issuing in mist and dampness, but as higher
They climb the everlasting peaks of snow,

Touch'd with the hues of heaven, and melting in its glow.

And there ye stand, majestic Alps! which never By foot of man were trod,-ye stand, and smile In calm derision at his weak endeavour

To touch the confines of each sky-girt isle; 'Tis well! albeit his chainless soul the while Can make your peaks her stepping-stones to climb Heights that look down upon your giant pile, Where she shall rest immortally sublime,

When ye have crumbled down amid the wrecks of time.

(Original.)

PRAY WITHOUT CEASING.

ADDRESSED TO A LITTLE NEPHEW.

E. L. SHORTRIDGE.

To God the Father humbly raise
Thine earliest voice in prayer and praise-

He hears what children say;

For though His throne is far above

This sinful world, yet "God is love;”—

Then to the Father pray.

To God the Son, the Saviour, go,

Whose death redeems the soul from wo—

He sendeth none away;

Through Christ alone the sinner lives,

And sweet the peace which Jesus gives ;— Then to the Saviour pray.

To God the Spirit bend the knee,
That thou the glorious light may'st see
That leads to perfect day;

If thou would'st walk in early youth
The path of holiness and truth,
Then to the Spirit pray.

Yes! seek, my child, Jehovah's face,
And, kept by his Almighty grace,
Thou wilt not go astray;

For in temptation's darkest hour,
The Lord will be thy refuge tower ;-
Then never cease to pray.

ON A FUNERAL.

BISHOP HEBER.

BENEATH our feet and o'er our head
Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,

Above us is the Heaven!

Their names are graven on the stone,
Their bones are in the clay;
And ere another day is done,
Ourselves may be as they.

Death rides on every passing breeze,

He lurks in every flower;

Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour!

Our eyes have seen the rosy light

Of youth's soft cheek decay, And Fate descend in sudden night

On manhood's middle day.

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