Thy life! how cold it might have been, How dark, how deeply stained with sin, How happy thus to sink to rest, "Tis well, then, that the smile should lie It tells to our inquiring eye What words could never speak A revelation sweetly given Of all that man can learn of heaven. Looking unto Jesus.-CHRISTIAN EXAMINER. THOU, who didst stoop below, To drain the cup of wo, Wearing the form of frail mortality, Thy blessed labors done, Thy crown of victory won, Hast passed from earth-passed to thy home on high. Man may no longer trace, In thy celestial face, The image of the bright, the viewless One; Save with faith's raptured ear, Thy voice of tenderness, God's holy Son! Our eyes behold thee not, Yet hast thou not forgot Those who have placed their hope, their trust in thee; Before thy Father's face Thou hast prepared a place, That where thou art, there they may also be. It was no path of flowers, Through this dark world of ours, Beloved of the Father, thou didst tread; And shall we, in dismay, Shrink from the narrow way, When clouds and darkness are around it spread? O thou, who art our life, Be with us through the strife! Was not thy head by earth's fierce tempests bowed! To see a Father's love Beam, like the bow of promise, through the cloud. Even through the awful gloom, That light of love our guiding star shall be; The shadowy way to tread, Friend, Guardian, Saviour, which doth lead to thee. Scene from Hadad.-HILLHOUSE. The garden of ABSALOM's house on Mount Zion, near the palace, over looking the city. TAMAR sitting by a fountain. Tamar. How aromatic evening grows! The flowers And spicy shrubs exhale like onycha; Spikenard and henna emulate in sweets. Blest hour! which He, who fashioned it so fair, So softly glowing, so contemplative, Hath set, and sanctified to look on man. This day's offences!-Ha! the wonted strain, Enter HADAD. Hadad. Does beauteous Tamar view, in this clear fount, Herself, or heaven? Tam. Nay, Hadad, tell me whence Those sad, mysterious sounds. Had. What sounds, dear princess? Tam. Surely, thou know'st; and now I almost think Some spiritual creature waits on thee. Had. I heard no sounds, but such as evening sends Up from the city to these quiet shades; A blended murmur sweetly harmonizing With flowing fountains, feathered minstrelsy, Tam. The sounds I mean Floated like mournful music round my head, Had. When? Tam. Now, as thou camest. Had. 'Tis but thy fancy, wrought Had. Were we in Syria, I might say The naiad of the fount, or some sweet nymph, Judah would call me infidel to Moses. Tam. How like my fancy! When these strains precede Thy steps, as eft they do, I love to think Some gentle being, who delights in us, Is hovering near, and warns me of thy coming; Had. Youthful fantasy, Attuned to sadness, makes them seem so, lady. Of swains, the bleat, the bark, the housing-bell, Tam. But how delicious are the pensive dreams Had. Delicious to behold the world at rest. Meek Labor wipes his brow, and intermits The curse, to clasp the younglings of his cot; Herdsmen and shepherds fold their flocks-and, hark! The jar of life is still; the city speaks In gentle murmurs; vorces chime with lutes And nature, breathing dew and fragrance, yields Tam. Ah, Hadad, meanest thou to reproach the Friend Who gave so much, because he gave not all? Had. Perfect benevolence, methinks, had willed With pleasure, like a flowing spring of life. Tam. Our Prophet teaches so, till man rebelled. Defensive volleyed from the throne; this, this Tam. Ah! talk not thus. Had. Is this benevolence?— Nay, loveliest, these things sometimes trouble me; Our Syrians deem each lucid fount, and stream, Of man, a spiritual race, allied To him by many sympathies, who seek His happiness, inspire him with gay thoughts, Cool with their waves, and fan him with their airs. O'er them, the Spirit of the Universe, Or Soul of Nature, circumfuses all With mild, benevolent, and sun-like radiance; As spirit does the body, till green herbs, And beauteous flowers, and branchy cedars, rise; They invocate with cheerful, gentle rites, With Nature's bounties, fruits, and fragrant flowers. Tam. Cast not reproach upon the holy altar. Had. Nay, sweet.-Having enjoyed all pleasures here That Nature prompts, but chiefly blissful love, At death, the happy Syrian maiden deems Her immaterial ties into the fields, Or circumambient clouds, or crystal brooks, And dwells, a Deity, with those she worshipped, Had. I almost wish Thou didst; for I have feared, my gentle Tamar, Announced in terrors, coupled with the threats Whose word annihilates, whose awful voice Burns unextinguished in the deeps of hell. Tam. Peace! impious! peace! Had. Ha! says not Moses so? The Lord is jealous Tam. Jealous of our faith, Our love, our true obedience, justly his; Had. But others have, If oracles be true. Tam. Little we know Of them; and nothing of their dire offence. Had. I meant not to displease, love; but my soul Sometimes revolts, because I think thy nature Shudders at him and yonder bloody rites. How dreadful! when the world awakes to light, |