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The pavement of those heavenly courts

Where I shall reign with God!

The Father of eternal light

Shall there his beams display,

Nor shall one moment's darkness mix With that unvaried day.

No more the drops of piercing grief
Shall swell into mine eyes;
Nor the meridian sun decline
Amid those brighter skies.

There all the millions of his saints Shall in one song unite,

And each the bliss of all shall view With infinite delight.

AWAKE, YE SAINTS.

Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes, And raise your voices high;

Awake and praise that sovereign love That shows salvation nigh.

On all the wings of time it flies, Each moment brings it near; Then welcome each declining day, Welcome each closing year!

Not many years their round shall run,
Nor many mornings rise,

Ere all its glories stand revealed
To our admiring eyes!

Ye wheels of nature, speed your course!
Ye mortal powers, decay!
Fast as ye bring the night of death,
Ye bring eternal day!

EPIGRAM.

Dr. Johnson justly pronounces the following "one of the finest epigrams in the English language." It is founded on Doddridge's own family motto of "Dum vivimus vivamus" (While we live, let us live).

"Live while you live," the epicure would say, "Aud seize the pleasures of the present day." "Live while you live," the sacred preacher cries, "And give to God each moment as it flies." Lord, in my view let both united be: I live in pleasure when I live to Thee!

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Son of the rector of Epworth, in Lincolnshire, John Wesley (1703-1791) was educated at Oxford, where he and his brother Charles, and a few other students, lived after a regular system of pious study and discipline, whence they were denominated Methodists. James Harvey, author of the "Meditations," and George Whitefield, the great preacher, who died at Newburyport, Mass., were members of this association. John and Charles Wesley sailed for Georgia with Oglethorpe, October 14th, 1735, and anchored in the Savannah River, February 6th, 1736. Charles soon returned to England; John stayed in Georgia a year and nine months. In 1740 he began in England that remarkable career as preacher, writer, and laborer, which led to the formation of the large and powerful Methodist denomination. In 1750 he married, but the union was an unhappy one, and scparation ensued. He continued his ministerial work up to his eighty-eighth year; his apostolic earnestness and venerable appearance procuring for him everywhere profound respect. His religious poems are many of them paraphrases from the German, but have much of the merit of original productions. From phenomena in his own family, Wesley became a devout believer in preternatural occurrences and spiritual intercommunication. "With my latest breath," he says, "will I bear my testimony against giving up to infidels one great proof of the invisible world."

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William Hamilton.

A native of Ayrshire, in Scotland, Hamilton of Bangour (1704-1754) was a man of fortune and family. An unauthorized edition of his poems appeared in Glasgow in 1748; a genuine edition was published by his friends in 1760; and a still more complete one, edited by James Paterson, appeared in 1850. Hamilton was the delight of the fashionable circles of Scotland. In 1745 he joined the standard of Prince Charles, and, on the downfall of the Jacobite party, fled to France. He was finally pardoned, and his paternal estate restored to him; but he did not long live to enjoy it. A pulmonary attack compelled him to seek a warmer climate, and he died at Lyons in the fiftieth year of his age. "The Braes of Yarrow" is the best known of Hamilton's poems; inJohnson deed, the rest of them are quite worthless. said of his poems, with some justice, that "they were very well for a gentleman to hand about among his friends;" but Johnson must have overlooked "The Braes of Yarrow," or else he was not in a mood to feel its marvellous pathos and beauty. It seems to have suggested three charming poems to Wordsworth -"Yarrow Unvisited," "Yarrow Visited," and "Yarrow Revisited."

THE BRAES OF YARROW.

4. Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride; Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow; Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride,

And think nae mair on the braes of Yarrow.

B. Where gat ye that bonny, bonny bride?
Where gat ye that winsome marrow?
A. I gat her where I darena weil be seen,

Pu'ing the birks' on the braes of Yarrow.

Weep not, weep not, my bonny, bonny bride; Weep not, weep not, my winsome marrow! Nor let thy heart lament to leave

Pu'ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.

B. Why does she weep, thy bonny, bonny bride? Why does she weep, thy winsome marrow? And why dare ye nae mair weil be seen Pu'ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow?

4. Lang maun she weep, lang maun she, maun she weep;

Lang maun she weep with dule and sorrow;
And lang maun I nae mair weil be seen
Pu'ing the birks on the braes of Yarrow.

1 Pulling the birches.

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Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon,

Comes, in his pale shroud, bleeding, after?

Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down;
Oh, lay his cold head on my pillow!
Take aff, take aff these bridal weeds,

And crown my careful head with willow.

Pale tho' thou art, yet best, yet best beloved,
Oh could my warmth to life restore thee!
Ye'd lie all night between my breasts:
No youth lay ever there before thee.

Pale, pale indeed, oh lovely, lovely youth!
Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter,
And lie all night between my breasts;
No youth shall ever lie there after.

4. Return, return, oh mournful, mournful bride! Return, and dry thy useless sorrow: Thy lover heeds naught of thy sighs;

He lies a corpse on the braes of Yarrow!

But soft, my friend; arrest the present moments;
For, be assured, they are all arrant tell-tales;
And though their flight be silent, and their path
Trackless as the winged couriers of the air,
They post to heaven, and there record thy folly;
Because, though stationed on the important watch,
Thou, like a sleeping, faithless sentinel,
Didst let them pass unnoticed, unimproved.
And know for that thou slumberest on the guard,
Thou shalt be made to answer at the bar
For every fugitive; and when thou thus
Shalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal
Of hoodwinked Justice, who shall tell thy audit?
Then stay the present instant, dear Horatio!
Imprint the marks of wisdom on its wings.
'Tis of more worth than kingdoms-far more pre-
cious

Than all the crimson treasures of life's fountains!
Oh, let it not elude thy grasp, but, like
The good old patriarch upon record,
Hold the fleet angel fast until he bless thee!

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Tis a sharper who stakes his penury

Against thy plenty; who takes thy ready cash, And pays thee naught but wishes, hopes, and promises,

The currency of idiots. Injurious bankrupt,
That gulls the easy creditor! To-morrow!
It is a period nowhere to be found

In all the hoary registers of Time,
Unless, perchance, in the fool's calendar!
Wisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society
With those who own it. No, my Horatio,
Tis Fancy's child, and Folly is its Father;
Wrought of such stuff as dreams are, and as baseless
As the fantastic visions of the evening.

THE WRESTLER.

GENESIS XXXII. 24-26.

Come, oh thou traveller unknown, Whom still I hold, but cannot see,

My company before is gone,

And I am left alone with thee; With thee all night I mean to stay, And wrestle till the break of day.

I need not tell thee who I am,
My misery or sin declare;
Thyself hast called me by my name;

Look on thy hands, and read it there!
But who, I ask thee, who art thou?
Tell me thy name, and tell me now.

In vain thou strugglest to get free, I never will unloose my hold;

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