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Ere sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom,

Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies.

Mourn not for her, the young bride of the valc,?

Our gayest and loveliest, lost to us now;
Ere life's early lustre had time to grow pale

Aud the garland of love was yet fresh on her brow;
Oh! then was her moment, dear spirit, for flying

From this gloomy world, while its gloom was unknown ;-
And the wild hymus she warbled so sweetly, in dying,

Were echo'd in heaven by lips like her own !
Weep not for her, -in her spring-time she flew

To that land where the wings of the soul are unfurl'd,
And now, like a star beyond evening's cold dew,

Looks radiantly down on the tears of this world.

THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SARINE.

caves,

AIR -Stevenson. THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine ; Where I shall read, in words of flame, My temple, Lord! that arch of thine; The glories of thy wondrous name. My censer's breath the mountain airs, And silent thoughts my only prayers. I'll read thy anger in the rack

That clouds awhile the day-beam's My choir shall be the moonlight waves,

track ; When murmuring homeward to their Thy mercy in the azure hue

Of sunny brightness, breaking through! Or when the stillness of the sea, E'en more than music, breathes of There's nothing bright, above, below, Thee !

From flowers that bloom to stars that

glow, I'll seek by day, some glade unknown, But in its light my soul can see All light and silence, like thy Throne ! Some feature of thy deity ! And the pale stars shall be, at night, The only eyes that watch my rite. There's nothing dark, below, above,

But in its gloom I trace thy love, Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, And meekly wait that moment, when Shall be my pure and shining book, Thy touch shall turn all bright again !

1 This second verse, which I wrote long after heard of her death. During her last delirium, the first, alludes to the fate of a very lovely she sang several hymns in a voice even clearer and amiable girl, the daughter of the late Colonel and sweeter than usual, and among them were Bainbrigge, who was married in Ashbourne some from the present collection (particularly Church, October 31, 1815, and died of a fever in 'There's nothing bright but Heaven'), which a few weeks after. The sound of her marriage this very interesting girl had often heard during bells seemed scarcely out of our ears, when we the summer.

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SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL.

MIRIAM'S SONG.

AIR–Avison.

: And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and a!? the women vent out after her with timbrels and with dances.'—Exod. xv. 20,

SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea !
Jehovah has triumph'd-his people are free.
Sing-for the pride of the tyrant is broken,

His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave,
How vain was their boasting !—the Lord hath but spoken,

And chariots and horsemen are sunk iv the wave.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea !
Jehovah has triumph'd-his people are free.

Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord,
His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword !-
Who sha'l return to tell Egypťthe story

Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride ?
For the Lord hath look'd out from his pillar of glory,

And all her brave thousands are dashd in the tide.
Souud the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark ses !
Jehovah has triumph’d, his people are free.

GO, LET ME WEEP.

AIR-Stevenson. Go, let me weep! there's bliss in tears, And, while they pass'd, a fragrance

When he, who sheds them, inly feels threw, Some lingering stain of early years But left no trace of sweets behind.

Effaced by every drop that steals. The warmest sigh that pleasure heaves The fruitless showers of worldly wou Is cold, is faint, to those that swell

Fall dark to earth, and never rise ; The heart, where pure repentance While tears, that from repentance flow, grieves

In bright exhalement reach the skies. O'er hours of pleasure, loved too Go, let me weep! there's bliss in tears, well !

When he, who sheds them, inly feels Leave me to sigh o'er days that flew Some lingering stain of early years More idly than the summer's wind, E.faced by every drop that steals, And, while they pass'd, a fragrance

threw, Leave me to sigh o'er hours that lew But left no trace of sweets behind.

More idly than the summer's wind,

"I have so altered the character of this air, 2. And it came to pass, that in the morning which is from the beginning of one of Avison's watch, the Lord looked unto the host of the old-fashioned concertos, that, without this ac- Egyptians through the pillar of fire and of the knowledgment, it could hardly, I think, be cloud, and troubled the host of the Egyptians.'-recognised,

Exod. xiv, 24.

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