THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. Byron. THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of his spears was like stars on the sea When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green. That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still. And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But thro' it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, EVENING TIME. Montgomery. "AT evening time let there be light;" At evening time let there be light: Dews, birds, and blossoms, cheer'd the way : At evening time let there be light. At evening time there shall be light; Mine eyes shall his salvation see: -'Tis evening time, and there is light. DEATH. William Brummond. LET us, each day, inure ourselves to die, By ruining the gaol, from lust and wrath, To have more knowledge than all books contain, All pleasures even surmounting wishing power, The fellowship of God's immortal train, And these that time nor force shall e'er devour: If this be death, what joy, what golden care Of life, can with death's ugliness compare? PRAISE FOR THE FOUNTAIN OPENED. Cowper. THERE is a fountain fill'd with blood, Drawn from Emanuel's veins ; And sinners plunged beneath that flood The dying thief rejoiced to see Dear dying Lamb, thy precious blood Be saved, to sin no more. E'er since, by faith, I saw the stream E Then I a nobler, sweeter song, I'll sing thy power to save, When this poor lisping, stamm'ring tongue Lies silent in the grave. Lord, I believe thou hast prepared (Unworthy though I be) For me a blood-bought free reward, A golden harp for me. 'Tis strung and tuned for endless years, And form'd by power divine, To sound in God the Father's ears No other name but thine. IN BEREAVEMENT. James Montgomery. LIFT up thine eyes, afflicted soul ! And daylight beauty dies; One sun is set- -a thousand more Their rounds of glory run, |