AWAKE, ARISE, THY LIGHT IS COME.
AIR-Stevenson.

AWAKE, arise, thy light is come;
The nations, that before outshone
thee.

Now at thy feet lie dark and dumb-
The glory of the Lord is on thee!
Arise-the Gentiles to thy ray
From every nook of earth shall
cluster ;

And kings and princes haste to pay

Their homage to thy rising lustre.

Lift up thine eyes around, and see, O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters,

Thy exiled sons return to thee,

To thee return thy homesick
daughters.

And camels rich, from Midian's tents,
Shall lay their treasures down before

thee;

And Saba bring her gold and scents,
To fill thy air, and sparkle o'er thee.

See who are these that, like a cloud,

Are gathering from all earth's dominions,

Like doves, long absent, when allowed Homeward to shoot their trembling pinions.

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Surely the isles shall wait for me,
The ships of Tarshish round will
hover,

To bring thy sons across the sea,

And waft their gold and silver over.
And Lebanon, thy pomp shall grace-
Shall beautify our Holy Place,
The fir, the pine, the palm victorious,

And make the ground I tread on
glorious.

No more shall discord haunt thy ways,
Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation;
But thou shalt call thy portals Praise,
And thou shalt name thy walls Sal-
vation.

The sun no more shall make thee bright,
Nor moon shall lend her lustre to
thee;

But GOD Himself shall be thy Light,
And flash eternal glory through thee.
Thy sun shall never more go down;

Shall light thy everlasting crown-
A ray, from heaven itself descended,

Thy days of mourning all are ended.
My own, elect, and righteous Land!
The Branch, for ever green and
vernal,

Which I have planted with this hand-
Live thou shalt in Life Eternal.

THERE IS A BLEAK DESERT.

AIR-Crescentini.

THERE is a bleak Desert, where daylight grows weary
Of wasting its smile on a region so dreary-

What may that desert be?

'Tis Life, cheerless Life, where the few joys that come
Are lost, like that daylight, for 'tis not their home.

There is a lone Pilgrim, before whose faint eyes
The water he pants for but sparkles and flies-
Who may that Pilgrim be?

'Tis Man, hapless Man, through this life tempted on
By fair shining hopes, that in shining are gone.

There is a bright Fountain, through that Desert stealing, To pure lips alone its refreshment revealing

What may that fountain be?

"Tis Truth, holy Truth, that, like springs under ground, By the gifted of Heaven alone can be found.

There is a fair Spirit, whose wand hath the spell
To point where those waters in secrecy dwell-
Who may that Spirit be?

"Tis Faith, humble Faith, who hath learned that, where'er Her wand stoops to worship, the Truth must be there.

SINCE FIRST THY WORD.

AIR-Nicholas Freeman.

SINCE first Thy word awaked my heart,
Like new life dawning o'er me,
Where'er I turn mine eyes, Thou art,
All light and love before me.
Nought else I feel, or hear, or see-
All bonds of earth I sever-.
Thee, oh God, and only Thee,
I live for, now and ever.

Like him, whose fetters dropped away
When light shone o'er his prisou,
My spirit, touched by Mercy's ray,
Hath from her chains arisen.

And shall a soul Thou bid'st be free
Return to bondage ?-never!
Thee, oh God, and only Thee,
I live for, now and ever.

HARK! "TIS THE BREEZE.

AIR-Rousseau.

HARK!-'tis the breeze of twilight calling
Earth's weary children to repose;
While, round the couch of Nature falling,
Gently the night's soft curtains close.
Soon o'er a world, in sleep reclining,
Numberless stars, through yonder dark,
Shall look, like eyes of cherubs shining
From out the veils that hid the Ark!

Guard us, oh Thou, who never sleepest,
Thou who, in silence throned above,
Throughout all time, unwearied, keepest
Thy watch of Glory. Power, and Love.

Grant that, beneath Thine eye securely
Our souls, awhile from life withdrawn,
May, in their darkness, stilly, purely,

Like 'sealed fountains,' rest till dawn.

WHERE IS YOUR DWELLING, YE SAINTED?
AIR-Hasse.

WHERE is your dwelling, ye sainted!
Through what Elysium more bright
Than fancy or hope ever painted,
Walk ye in glory and light?
Who the same kingdom inherits?
Breathes there a soul that may dare
Look to that world of spirits?

Or hope to dwell with you there?

Sages who, even in exploring
Nature through all her bright ways,
Went, like the seraphs, adoring,

And veiled your eyes in the blaze-
Martyrs, who left for our reaping

Truths you had sown in your blood-
Sinners, whom long years of weeping
Chastened from evil to good-

Maidens who, like the young Crescent,
Turning away your pale brows,

From earth, and the light of the Present,
Looked to your Heavenly Spouse-
Say, through what region enchanted
Walk ye, in heaven's sweet air?
Or, oh, to whom is it granted,

Bright souls, to dwell with you there.

HOW LIGHTLY MOUNTS THE MUSE'S WING.

AIR-Anonymous.

How lightly mounts the Muse's wing,

Whose theme is in the skies-
Like morning larks, that sweeter sing
The nearer heaven they rise!

Though Love his wreathed lyre may tune,

Yet ah! the flowers he round it wreathes
Were plucked beneath pale Passion's moon,
Whose madness from their odour breathes.
How purer far the sacred lute,

Round which Devotion ties

Sweet flowers that turn to heavenly fruit,
And palm that never dies!

Though War's high-sounding harp may be
Most welcome to the hero's ears,
Alas, his chords of victory

Are bathed all o'er with tears.

How far more sweet their numbers rur

Who hymn, like saints above,

No victor but the Eternal One,

No trophies but of Love!

GO FORTH TO THE MOUNT.

AIR-Stevenson.

Go forth to the Mount-bring the olive-branch home,
And rejoice, for the day of our Freedom is come!
From that time, when the moon upon Ajalon's vale,
Looking motionless down, saw the kings of the earth,
In the presence of God's mighty Champion grow pale-
Oh never had Judah an hour of such mirth !
Go forth to the Mount-bring the olive-branch home,
And rejoice, for the day of our Freedom is come!

Bring myrtle and palm-bring the boughs of each tree
That is worthy to wave o'er the tents of the Free,
From that day, when the footsteps of Israel shone,

With a light not their own, through the Jordan's deep tide,
Whose waters shrunk back as the Ark glided on--
Oh never had Judah an hour of such pride!

Go forth to the Mount-bring the olive-branch home,
And rejoice, for the day of our Freedom is come!

IS IT NOT SWEET TO THINK, HEREAFTER
AIR-Haydn.

Is it not sweet to think, hereafter,
When the spirit leaves this sphere,
Love, with deathless wing, shall waft her
To those she long hath mourned for here?
Hearts from which 'twas death to sever,
Eyes, this world can ne'er restore,
There, as warm, as bright as ever,
Shall meet us and be lost no more.

When wearily we wander, asking

Of earth and heaven, where are they,
Beneath whose smile we once lay basking
Blest, and thinking bliss would stay!
Hope still lifts her radiant finger,
Pointing to the eternal home,

Upon whose portal yet they linger,
Looking back for us to come.

Alas! alas! doth Hope deceive us?

Shall friendship-love-shall all those ties
That bind a moment, and then leave us,
Be found again where nothing dies?
Oh! if no other boon were given,

To keep our hearts from wrong and stain,
Who would not try to win a heaven
Where all we love shall live again?

WAR AGAINST BABYLON.
AIR-Novello.

'WAR against Babylon !' shout we around,
Be our banners through earth unfurled;
Rise up, ye nations, ye kings, at the sound-

War against Babylon!' shout through the world!

Oh thou, that dwellest on many waters,

Thy day of pride is ended now;

And the dark curse of Israel's daughters

Breaks, like a thunder-cloud, over thy brow!
War, war, war against Babylon!

Make bright the arrows, and gather the shields,
Set the standard of God on high-

Swarm we, like locusts, o'er all her fields,

'Zion,' our watchword, and vengeance' our cry!

Woe! woe!-the time of thy visitation

Is come, proud Land, thy doom is cast

And the bleak wave of desolation

Sweeps o'er thy guilty head at last!

War, war, war against Babylon!