Blessed on earth be His name who from heaven Has, in the fulness of goodness, allow'd Hope for the past—for the future has given The token of promise-the bow in the cloud! Thou Art, D God! Psalm 1xxiv. 16, 17. T. MOORE.-Air, unknown. `HOU art, O God, the life and light THOU Of all this wondrous world we see, When day, with farewell beams, delays Through golden vistas into heaven- When night, with wings of starry gloom, Lady Mary. When youthful Spring around us breathes, Lady Mary. Rev. H. ALFORD, D.D., Dean of Canterbury. HOU wert fair, Lady Mary, THOU As the lily in the sun; And fairer yet thou mightest be, And on the heart thy gentle words They found thee, Lady Mary, The cold pale moon was shining On thy cold pale cheek; They carved thee, Lady Mary, 149 And I saw thee when the winter moon But thou kneelest, Lady Mary, In the land of rest : Thou art even as they took thee Save the glory that is on thee From the Sun that shineth there. We shall see thee, Lady Mary, On that shore unknown, A pure and happy angel In the presence of the Throne ; And the Resurrection morning Hath just begun to break. O Dh! Weep for Those. LORD BYRON.—Music by Stephen Glover. H! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land's a dream; Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell; Mourn where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell. And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? The Rainbow. And Judah's melody once more rejoice The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice? Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, The Rainbow. THOMAS Campbell. 'RIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky TRI When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud philosophy To teach me what thou art. Still seem as to my childhood's sight, A midway station given, Betwixt the earth and heaven. Can all that optics teach, unfold When Science from Creation's face And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, Have told why first thy robe of beams 151 When o'er the green undeluged earth Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign! And when its yellow lustre smiled Methinks thy jubilee to keep Nor ever shall the Muse's eye The earth to thee its incense yields, How glorious is thy girdle cast Or mirror'd in the ocean vast, As fresh in yon horizon dark, |