crowned with succéss? the promise of God that seed-time and harvest shall not fail, look forward with assured confidence to the expected increase of his fields? In these, and in all similar cases, our resolution to act can be founded on probability alone. Can even the husbandman, who has To the Ursa Major. HENRY WARE, Jr. WITH what a stately and majestic step The other tribes forsake their midnight track, Ages have witnessed thy devoted trust, Unchanged, unchanging. When the sons of God Sent forth that shout of joy which rang through heaven, And echoed from the outer spheres that bound The illimitable universe, thy voice Joined the high chorus; from thy radiant orbs The glad cry sounded, swelling to His praise, Who thus had cast another sparkling gem, Of splendors that enrich his firmament. As thou art now, so wast thou then the same. Ages have rolled their course, and time grown gray; The earth has gathered to her womb again, And yet again, the myriads, that were born. As if immortal - have been swept away, Shattered and mouldering, buried and forgot. But time has shed no dimness on thy front, To watch earth's northern beacon, and proclaim That stream of light, I wonder as I gaze. Exhaustless flood! forever spent, renewed While those winged particles, whose speed outstrips Six autumns fade, six springs renew their bloom. So vast the void through which their beams descend! Yea, glorious lamps of God! He may have quenched Your ancient flames, and bid eternal night Rest on your spheres; and yet no tidings reach Yet what is this, which to th' astonished mind Seems measureless, and which the baffled thought Confounds? A span, a point, in those domains Which the keen eye can traverse. Seven stars Dwell in that brilliant cluster, and the sight Embraces all at once; yet each from each Recedes as far as each of them from earth; And every star from every other burns No less remote. From the profound of heaven, Untravelled even in thought, keen, piercing rays Dart through the void, revealing to the sense Systems and worlds unnumbered. Take the glass And search the skies. The opening skies pour down Upon your gaze thick showers of sparkling fireStars, crowded, thronged, in regions so remote, That their swift beams the swiftest things that be Have travelled centuries on their flight to earth. Earth, sun, and nearer constellations, what Are ye, amid this infinite extent And multitude of God's most infinite works? And these are suns!-vast, central, living fires, Lords of dependent systems, kings of worlds, That wait as satellites upon their power, And flourish in their smile. Awake, my soul, And meditate the wonder! Countless suns Blaze round thee, leading forth their countless worlds! Known but to thee, blessed Father! Thine they are, Like the mean mote that dances in the beam Tell me, ye splendid orbs, as from your thrones Ye mark the rolling provinces that own Your sway, what beings fill those bright abodes? How formed, how gifted? what their powers, their state, Their happiness, their wisdom? Do they bear The stamp of human nature? Or has God Peopled those purer realms with lovelier forms And more celestial minds? Does Innocence Still wear her native and untainted bloom? Or has Sin breathed his deadly blight abroad, And sowed corruption in those fairy bowers? Has War trod o'er them with his foot of fire? And Slavery forged his chains? and Wrath, and Hate, And sordid Selfishness, and cruel Lust, Leagued their base bands to tread out light and truth, And scattered woe where Heaven had planted joy? And death unfeared; while fresh and fadeless youth Open your lips, ye wonderful and fair! Speak, speak! the mysteries of those living worlds Unfold! No language? Everlasting light, And everlasting silence? - Yet the eye May read and understand. The hand of God Has written legibly what man may know THE GLORY OF THE MAKER. There it shines, Ineffable, unchangeable; and man, Bound to the surface of this pygmy globe, May know and ask no more. Perchance, amongst those vast, mysterious spheres, And beauty by the hand of Power divine But adding to its glories; while the soul, |