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11. HYMN 108, BOOK II.
1 Come, let us lift our joyful eyes

Up to the courts above,
And smile to see our Father there,

Upon a throne of love. 2 Once 'twas the seat of dreadful wrath,

And shot devouring flàme:
Our God appear'd consuming fire,

And Veng'ance was his name. 3 Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,

That cālm'd .. his frowning face, That sprinkl'd o'er the burning throne,

And turn'd the wrath to grace. 4 To thee ten thousand thanks we bring,

Great Advocate on High ;
And glory to th' eternal King

That lays his fury by.
12. Hymn 116, BOOK II.
1 How can I sink with such a prop

As my eternal God,
Who bears the earth's huge pillars up,

And spreads the heav'ns abroad? 2 How can I die while Jesus lives,

Who rose and left the dead ?
Pardon and grace my soul receives

From mine exalted Head. 3 All that I am, and all I have,

Shall be forever thine :
Whate'er my duty bids me give,

My cheerful hands resign.
4 Yet, if I might make some reserve,

And duty did not call,
I love my God with zeal so great
That I should give him all.

13. Missionary Hymn.
1 From Greenland's icy mountains,

From India's coral strand;
Where Afric's

sunny

fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver ..

Their land from error's chain. 2 What tho' the spicy breezes

Blow soft o’er Ceylon's isle,
Tho' every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown ;
The heathen in his blindness

Bows down to wood and stone.
3 Shall we whose souls are lighted

With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
(0) Salvation! 0 .. Salvation !
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation

Has learn'd Messiah's name.
4 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,

And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,
It spreads from pole to pole;
Till o'er our ransom'd nature,
The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign.

Bishop Heber. EXERCISES.

PART II.

FAMILIAR PIECES.

The reader will observe that no rhetorical notation is applied in

the following Exercises.

29.

Hamlet's instruction to Players. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue : but if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke

my lines. Nor do not saw the air too much with your 5 hand, thus: but use all gently : for in the very torrent,

tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it sinoothness. O, it offends me to the soul, to hear

a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tat10 ters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings; who,

for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, and noise : I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod.

Pray you, avoid it.- -Be not too tame neither ; but let 15 your own discretion be your tutor : suit the action to the

word, the word to the action ; with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature : for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing ;

whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to 20 hold as 'twere the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue

her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time, his form and pressure. Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, though it make the unskil

ful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the 25 censure of which one, must, in your allowance, o’er

weigh a whole theatre of others. O, there be players, that I have seen play,--and heard others praise, and that highly,--not to speak it profanely, that, neither having

the accent of christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan, 30 nor man, have so strutied, and bellowed, that I have

thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.

Shakspeare. 30. The dead Mother. F. Touch not thy mother, boy-Thou canst not

wake her. C. Why, father? She still wakens at this hour.

F. Your mother's dead, my child. 5 C. And what is dead ?

If she be dead, why then 'tis only sleeping,
For I ain sure she sleeps. Come, mother, -rise-
Her hand is very cold!

F. Her heart is cold.
10 Her limbs are bloodless, would that mine were so !

C. If she would waken, she would soon be warm.
Why is she wrapt in this thin sheet? If I,
This winter morning, were not covered better,

I should be cold like her. 15 F. No- not like her:

The fire might warm you, or thick clothes-but her-
Nothing can warm again!

C. If I could wake her,
She would smile on me, as she always does,
20 And kiss me. Mother!

you

have slept too long-
Her face is pale--and it would frighten me,
But that I know she loves me.

F. Come, my child.

C. Once, when I sat upon her lap, I felt 25 A beating at her side, and then she said

It was her heart that beat, and bade me feel
For my own heart, and they both beat alike,

Only mine was the quickest-And I feel

My own heart yet—but her's—I cannot feel30

F. Child ! child !--you drive me mad-Come hence,

I say.

C. Nay, father, be not angry! let me stay here
Till my mother wakens.

F. I have told you,
35 Your Mother cannot wake-not in this world-

But in another she will wake for us.
When we have slept like her, then we shall see her.

C. Would it were night then !

F. No, unhappy child !
40 Full many a night shall pass, ere thou canst sleep

That last, long sleep.—Thy father soon shall sleep it;
Then wilt thou be deserted upon earth:
None will regard thee; thou wilt soon forget

That thou hadst natural ties,-an orphan lone,
45 Abandoned to the wiles of wicked men,
And women still more wicked.

C. Father! Father !
Why do you look so terribly upon ine,

You will not hurt me?
50 F. Hurt thee, darling? no!

Has sorrow's violence so much of anger,
That it should fright my boy ? Come, dearest, come.

C. You are not angry then ?

F. Too well I love you.
55 C. All you have said I cannot now remember,

Nor what is meant-you terrified me so.
But this I know, you told me.--I must sleep
Before my mother wakens- so, to-morrow-
Oh father! that to-niorrow were but come!

31. The Temptation. Gen. iii.- Now the serpent was more subtile than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made : and he said unto the woman, yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eal of every tree of the garden? 2 And the woman said unto the serpent, we may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden: 3 But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst

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