He saw the valleys far and wide,
But sight of joy was none;
He looked o'er many a mountain's side,
But silence reigned alone;
Save that a boding voice sung on
By wave and waterfall,
As still in harsh and heavy tone,
Deep unto deep did call.
On Kison's strand and Ephratah
The hamlets thick did lie;
No wayfarer between he saw,
No Asherite passed by;
No maiden at her task did ply,
Nor sportive child was seen;
The lonely dog barked wearily
Where dwellers once had been.
Oh! beauteous were the palaces
On Jordan wont to be,
And still they glimmered to the breeze,
Like stars beneath the sea!
But vultures held their jubilee
Where harp and cymbal rung;
And there, as if in mockery,
The baleful satyr sung.
But who had seen that prophet's eye,
On Carmel that reclined!
It looked not on the times gone by,
But those that were behind:
His gray hair streamed upon the wind,
His hands were raised on high,
As, mirrored, on his mystic mind
Arose futurity.
He saw the feast in Bozrah spread,
Prepared in ancient day;
Eastward, away the eagle sped,
And all the birds of prey.
"Who's this," he cried,
Of Edom, all divine,
Travelling in splendour, whose array
Is red, but not with wine ?"
Blest be the Herald of our King,
That comes to set us free!
The dwellers of the rock shall sing,
And utter praise to thee!
Tabor and Hermon yet shall see
Their glories glow again,
And blossoms spring on field and tree,
That ever shall remain.
THE LAND WHICH NO MORTAL MAY KNOW.
THOUGH Earth has full many a beautiful spot,
As a Poet or Painter might show;
Yet more lovely and beautiful, holy and bright,
To the hopes of the heart and the spirit's glad sight,
Is the Land which no Mortal may know.
There the crystalline stream, bursting forth from the
Flows on, and for ever will flow;
Its waves as they roll are with melody rife,
And its waters are sparkling with beauty and life,
In the Land which no Mortal can know.
And there, on its margin, with leaves ever green,
With its fruits healing sickness and woe,
The TREE, named OF LIFE, in its glory and pride,
Is fed by that deep, inexhaustible tide
Of the Land which no Mortal may know.
And there are the mourn'd! whom we loved on this earth,
With whose memories our bosoms yet glow;— Their relics we gave to the place of the dead! But their glorified spirits before us have fled
To the Land which no Mortal may know!
There the pale orb of Night and the fountain of Day
Nor beauty nor splendour bestow;
But the presence of HIM, the unchanging I AM,
And the holy, the pure, and immaculate LAMB,
Light the Land which no Mortal may know.
Oh! who but must pine in this dark vale of tears, From its clouds and its shadows to go,.
To walk in the light of the glory above,
And to share in the Peace, and the Joy, and the Love Of the Land which no Mortal may know!
THOUGH travelling through a wilderness,
Where duty's call divides us;
Though many a wintry storm distress,
The Star of Hope shall guide us.
And this shall cheer the lonely way,
And gild the gloom of sorrow;
And, through the shades of parting day
Point to a brighter morrow.
E'en should this star be clouded here,
And should we meet-ah! never,
The transient joys of life to share-
'Twill not be dimm'd for ever.
No!-we shall meet, though parted here,
To part again--oh, never!
But joyful, with our Saviour there,
To spend a long for ever.
THE LITTLE CHILD HAPPY IN DEATH.
"MOTHER, I'm tired, and I would fain be sleeping; Let me repose upon thy bosom sleek;
But promise me that thou wilt leave off weeping,
Because thy tears fall hot upon my cheek.
Here it is cold; the tempest raveth madly;
But in my dreams all is so wondrous bright;
I see the angel-children smiling gladly,
When from my weary eyes I shut out light.
"Mother, one stands beside me now! and-listen!
Dost thou not hear the music's sweet accord ?
See how his white wings beautifully glisten!
Surely those wings were given him by our Lord.
Green, gold, and red are floating all around me,
They are the flowers the Angel scattereth.
Shall I have also wings whilst life has bound me,
Or, mother, are they given alone in death ?
"Why dost thou clasp me as if I were going?
Why dost thou press thy cheek thus unto mine ?
Thy cheek is hot, and yet thy tears are flowing:
I will, dear mother, will be always thine!
Do not sigh thus-it marreth my reposing:
And if thou weep, then I must weep with thee!
Oh, I am tired—my weary eyes are closing;
-Look, Mother, look! the Angel kisseth me!"
PRAYER AT SEA.
F. Winkelmann.
O LORD, be this our vessel now
A worthy temple unto thee,
Though none may hear its bells but thou,
And this our little company.
Our church's roof, yon mighty dome,
Shall ring with hymns we learnt at home,
Our floor the boundless tossing wave,
Our field, our path, perchance our grave.
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