The heav'ns were not commanded to prepare A gorgeous canopy of golden air; Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high. A single silent star Came wandering from afar, Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky, As at a kingly throne, To lay their gold and odours sweet Before thy infant feet. The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear From all the cherub choirs, And seraph's burning lyres [along; Poured through the host of heav'n the charmed clouds One angel troop the strain began, Of all the race of man, By simple shepherds heard alone, That soft Hosanna's tone. And when thou didst depart, no car of flame From fatal Calvary [tombs. With all thine own redeem'd outbursting from their For thou didst bear away from earth The dying felon by thy side, to be In Paradise with thee. Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance break, At that foul deed by her fierce children done; 'The world in darkness lay, Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun : While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb, Consenting to thy doom, Ere yet the white robed Angel shone Upon the sealed stone. And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand With devastation in thy red right hand, Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew; But thou didst haste to meet Thy mother's coming feet, And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few: Into thy native skies, Thy human form dissolved on high MILMAN. ABRAHAM AND ISAAC ON MOUNT MORIAH. GENESIS, CHAP. XXII. ERE the rich morning on the mountains flung A robe of beauty,—in that primest hour As bound and bloody on the altar stretch'd, And guiltless of a parent's tear!—But faith The patriarch bowed, and o'er the mountain path So still the hour, so calm the scene, that God R. MONTGOMERY. THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT. EXODUS, CHAP. XI. WHEN life is forgot, and night hath power, When silence and slumber rule the hour, God shall smite the first-born of Egypt's race, "To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host, "And slaughter a sacrifice: Let the life-blood be sprinkled on each door-post, And the Angel of Vengeance shall pass you by, The people hear, and they bow them low- The lamb is slain, and with blood they go, And the doors they close when the sun hath set, The judgment to be done. 'Tis midnight-yet they hear no sound No blast of a pestilence sweeps the ground, Nor rush as of harpy wings goes by, But the calm moon floats in the cloudless sky, 'Mid her wan light clear and sweet. Once only, shot like an arrowy ray, It pass'd so swift, the eye scarce could say |