OMNISCIENT Being, whose pervading eye
Surveys each world that rolls beneath the sky,
Present alike in all creation's parts,
But chiefly felt within thy children's hearts:
O Thou, whose fiat bids them know the day,
And, reason giving, bids their hearts obey,
Within my breast devotion deep inspire,
And grant the good implored that I require!
O let me inward evil hate and shun,
And in my life thy sacred will be done!
While I in nature thy perfection see,
Or read it in the word reveal'd by Thee:
Thy renovating influence impart,
And make thy children "perfect as thou art!"
If, in the gloom of Error's dismal hour,
I sink beneath some latent sinful power,
Let instant guilt my trembling heart appal,
And instant penitence retrieve my fall;
Subdue the impulse of unhallow'd will,
And ev'ry thought and wish of good instil.
As in thy love his being first began,
Direct my love to universal man,
To him may kindred sympathy reveal,
What I, his brother and thy offspring, feel.
Blest with thy bounty, let me e'er bestow
What brightens happiness or softens woe!
Let me, like Hezekiah, live to die,
And my last hour excite no boding sigh;
But, fortitude and hope sustained by thee,
Glide, as a Christian, to eternity!
"TWAS early day-and sunlight stream'
Soft through a quiet room,
That hush'd, but not forsaken seem'd
Still, but with nought of gloom :
For there, secure in happy age,
Whose hope is from above,
A father communed with the page
Of Heaven's recorded love.
Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright,
On his grey hoary hair,
And touch'd the book with tenderest light,
As if its shrine were there;
But O that patriarch's aspect shone
With something lovelier far—
A radiance all the spirit's own,
Caught not from sun or star.
Some word of life e'en then had met
His calm benignant eye!
Some ancient promise, breathing yet
Some heart's deep language, where the glow
Of quenchless Faith survives:
For every feature said "I know
That my Redeemer lives."
And silent stood his children by,
Hushing their very breath
Before the solemn sanctity
Of thoughts o'ersweeping death:
Silent-yet did not each young breast
With love and reverence melt?
O blest be those fair girls-and blest
That home where God is felt!
Evening Pleasures.
I LOVE to sit at eventide,
And view the setting sun
Depart in all his pomp and pride
His race of glory run ;
And bless the God who made him shine
To cheer and gladden earth,
And only deem his rays divine,
Because of heavenly birth.
I love to hear the nightingale
Alone, at evening's close,
Pouring her notes along the vale,
While other birds repose:
And fancy, as it floats along,
By earthly sounds unbroken,
In every note of her sweet song,
Her Maker's praise is spoken.
I love to hear the murmuring rill,
In gentle course descending
Down to the valley from the hill,
With other streamlets blending
To bless the Hand by whom it flows,
An emblem of His love,
Whose mercy gathers as it goes,
And has its source above.
I love to hear the balmy breeze,
Bearing the showers of dew,
While rustling through the grateful trees,
That bend as if they knew;
Like me there is no earthly thing,
That clothes or decks the sod,
From which a blessing does not spring,
The Pilgrims of Emmans.
Ir happen'd on a solemn eventide,
Soon after He who was our Surety died,
Two bosom friends, each pensively inclined,
The scene of all their sorrows left behind,
Sought their own village, busied as they went,
In musings worthy of the great event:
They spake of Him they loved, of Him whose life,
Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strife,
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,
A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
The recollection, like a vein of ore,
The further traced enrich'd them still the more;
They thought Him, and they justly thought Him, one
Sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done;
To exalt a people and to place them high
Above all else, and wonder'd he should die.
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,
A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend,
And ask'd them, with a kind, engaging air,
What their affliction was, and begg'd a share.
Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,
And, truth and wisdom gracing all he said,
Explain'd, illustrated, and search'd so well
The tender theme on which they chose to dwell,
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