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Rich with the spoils their glorious deeds had won,
And purchas'd freedom to a land undone ;
A land which owes its glory and its worth
To those whom tyrants banish'd from the earth.

for the O Holic


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Honour and happiness unite

To make the Christian's name a praise ;
How fair the scene, how clear the light,

That fills the remnant of his days !
A kingly character he bears,

No change his priestly office knows;
Unfading is the crown he wears,

His joys can never reach a close.
Adorn'd with glory from on high,

Salvation shines upon bis face;
His robe is of th' ethereal dye,

His steps are dignity and grace.
Inferior honours he disdains,

Nor stoops to take applause from earth;
The King of kings himself maintains

Th' expenses of his heav'nly birth.
The noblest creature seen below,

Ordain'd to fill a throne above;
God gives him all he can bestow,

His kingdom of eternal love!
My soul is ravish'd at the thought!

Methinks from earth I see him rise,
Angels congratulate his lot,

And shout him welcome to the skies!

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For thou wert born of woman! thou didst come,
O Holiest! to this world of sin and gloom,
Not in thy dread omnipotent array ;

And not by thunders strew'd

Was thy tempestuous road ;
Not indignation burnt before thee on thy way.
But thee, a soft and naked child,
Thy mother, undefild,
In the rude manger laid to rest,
From off her virgin breast.
The heav'ns were not commanded to prepare

gorgeous canopy of golden air ;
Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high;

A single silent star

Came wand'ring from afar,
Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky;
The Eastern Sages leading on,
As at a kingly throne,
To lay their gold and odours sweet
Before thy infant feet.
The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear
Bright harmony from ev'ry starry sphere;
Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song

From all the cherub choirs,

And seraph's burning lyres
Pour'd through the host of heav'n the charmed
One angel troop the strain began, (clouds along.
Of all the race of man,
By simple shepherds heard alone,
That soft Hosanna's tone.
And when thou didst depart, no ear of fame
To bear thee hence in lambent radience came :

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Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes :

Nor didst thou mount on high

From fatal Calvary
With all thine own redeem'd outbursting from their
For thou didst bear away from earth
But one of human birth,
The dying felon by thy side, to be
In Paradise with thee.
Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake,
A little while the conscious earth did shake
At that foul deed by her fierce children done ;

A few dim hours of day,

The world in darkness lay,
Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,

Consenting to thy doom,
Ere yet the white-rob'd Angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.
And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand
With devastation in thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew;

But thou didst haste to meet

Thy mother's coming feet,
And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few:
Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise
Into thy native skies,
Thy human form dissolved on high

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In its own radiancy.



(Proverbs, xxvii. 2.)
To-MORROW!-mortal, boast not thou
Of time and tide that are not now!


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But think, in one revolving day
How earthly things may pass away!
To-day-wbile hearts with rapture spring,
The youth to beauty's lip may cling ;
To-morrow and that lip of bliss
May sleep unconscious of his kiss.
To-day—the blooming spouse may press
Her husband in a fond caress;
To-morrow-and the hands that prest
May wildly strike ber widow'd breast.
To-day—the clasping babe may drain
The milk-stream from its mother's vein;
To-morrow-like a frozen rill,
That bosom-current may be still.
To-day, thy merry heart may feast
On herb and fruit, and bird and beast;
To-morrow-spite of all thy glee,
The hungry worms may feast on thee.
To-morrow !-mortal, boast not thou
Of time and tide that are not now!
But think, in one revolving day
That even thyself may'st pass away.


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BEAUTIFUL creature! I have been

Moments uncounted watching thee,
Now flitting round the foliage green

Of yonder dark, embow'ring tree;
And now again, in frolic glee,

Hov'ring around those opening towers,

hina F!

Happy as nature's child should be,

Born to enjoy her loveliest bowers.
And I have gaz'd upon thy flight,

Till feelings I can scarce define,
Awaken'd by so fair a sight,

With desultory thoughts combine
Not to induce me to repine,

Or envy thee thy happiness ;
But from a lot so bright as thine,

To borrow musings born to bless.
Then thou, delightful creature, who

Wert yesterday a sightless worm
Becom'st a symbol fair and true,

Of hopes that own no mortal term;
In thy proud change we see the germ

Of Man's sublimer destiny,
While holiest oracles confirm

The type of immortality!
A change more glorious far than thine,

E'en I, thy fellow-worm, may know,
When this exhausted frame of mine

Down to its kindred dust shall go; When the anxiety and woe

Of being's embryo state shall seem Like phantoms fitting to and fro

In some confus'd and fev'rish dream. For thee, who flittest gaily now,

With all thy nature asks—supplied, A few brief summer days, and chou

No more amid these haunts shall glide, As hope's fair herald-in thy pride

The sylph-like genius of the scene, But, sunk in dark oblivion's tide,

Shall be as thou hadst never been!

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