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E. DUNCAN .
E. DUNCAN .
E. H. WEHNERT To walk together to the kirk, and all together pray. E. H. WEHNERT He prayeth well, who loveth well both man and bird
E. H. WEHNERT and beast The cottage homes of England! .
BIRKET FOSTER For many a thousand bodies there .
GEORGE THOMAS At summer eve, when Heaven's aerial bow
BIRKET FOSTER The way-worn pilgrim seeks thy summer bower. BIRKET FOSTER The wolf's long howl from Oonalaska's shore HARRISON WEIR Pierced the deep woods
BIRKET FOSTER When Venus throned in clouds of rosy hue
BIRKET FOSTER Bright as the pillar rose at Heaven's command BIRKET FOSTER Her silent watch the mournful mother keeps .
GEORGE THOMAS Or lisps with holy look his ev'ning prayer
GEORGE THOMAS Leans o'er its humble gate, and thinks the while. BIRKET FOSTER There shall the flocks on thymy pasture stray. HARRISON WEIR His trusty warriors, few, but undismayd.
GEORGE THOMAS Tell's Chapel-Lake of Lucerne.
BIRKET FOSTER And braved the stormy spirit of the Cape.
BIRKET FOSTER Tail-piece-Ship in sight of harbour
BIRKET FOSTER Who hath not paused, while Beauty's pensive eye GEORGE THOMAS In vain the wild bird carolld on the steep
HARRISON WEIR And the lone cuckoo sighs along the vale
HARRISON WEIR Some pleasing page shall charm the solemn hour GEORGE THOMAS And arms and warriors fell with hollow clanz . HARRISON WEIR From Kilda to the green Ierne's shore .
BIRKET FOSTER As ocean-wrecks illuminate the storm
E. DUNCAN . . Swift as the tempest travels on the deep
BIRKET FOSTER And bade his country and his child farewell . GEORGE THOMAS Tail-piece-Sunrise
BIRKET FOSTER Those evening bells ! those evening bells !
BIRKET FOSTER Up to the tumultuous brook of Greenhead Ghyll. BIRKET FOSTER The pair had but one inmate in their house . H. WARREN
Drawon by Beneath that large old oak, which near their door . H. WARREN Al gate or gap, to stem or turn the flock
H. WARREN And with this basket on his arm, the lad .
GEORGE THOMAS Came forth with wishes and with farewell prayers · H. WARREN Mine be a cot beside the hill
E. V. B.
o'er the war'e
your face But tell her, when I'm gone, to train the rose-brush
that I set To die before the snowdrop came, but now the violet's here
When the night and morning meet. Wild flowers in the valley for other hands than mine To lie within the light of God, as I lie upon your
HYMN TO THE SEASONS.
BY JAMES THOMSON.
(JAMES THOMSON was born at Ednam, near Kelso, on the uth of September, 1700. His father was the minister of the parish. When eighteen years of age, the youth was sent to Edinburgh to be educated for the Church ; but, on the death of his father, he resolved to try his fortune in London. In March, 1727, he published his “Winter,” which, in successive years, was followed by Summer,” “Spring,” and “ Autumn.” In 1731, he became travelling companion, or tutor, to the son of Sir Charles Talbot; he was thus occupied for three years, in the course of which he visited all the most remarkable places on the Continent. On his return to England he obtained, the sinecure situation of Secretary of Briefs in the Court of Chancery, which, however, he lost on the death of his patron, Lord-Chancellor Talbot. His circumstances were afterwards improved by a pension of 1001. which he received from the Prince of Wales through Lord Lyttelton ; he was also appointed Surveyor-General of the Leeward Islands, the duties of which he could perform by proxy, and which realized to him 300l. a year. Being now comparatively rich, he retired to a cottage in the neighbourhood of Richmond. He there wrote several tragedies, and his “Castle of Indolence.” He died, after a short illness, on the 27th of August, 1748.]
These as they change, Almighty Father, these
Then comes Thy glory in the Summer-months, With light and heat refulgent. Then Thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year : And oft Thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks ;
And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve,
In Winter awful Thou! With clouds and storms
Around Thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest rolld,
Mysterious round! What skill, what force divine, Deep felt, in these appear! a simple train, Yet so delightful mix'd, with such kind art, Such beauty and beneficence combin'd ; Shade, unperceived, so softening into shade ; And all so forming an harmonious whole ; That, as they still succeed, they ravish still. But wandering oft, with brute unconscious gaze, Man marks not Thee, marks not the mighty Hand, That, ever-busy, wheels the silent spheres, Works in the secret deep, shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the Spring, Flings from the Sun direct the flaming Day, Feeds every creature, hurls the tempest forth, And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of life.
Nature, attend ! join every living soul, Beneath the spacious temple of the sky, In adoration join, and, ardent, raise One general song! To Him, ye vocal gales, Breathe soft, whose Spirit in your freshness breathes. O, talk of Him in solitary glooms,