And breathe their rapture in sweet song. To such
May the heaven-glories seem as the earth-charms,
Though with them they may not compare, nor man
Can aught of them conceive. Soft soothing strains
Floated incessantly about these realms
Of beauty and of joy,--such strains as float
From the wild wind-harp, when the summer's sigh
Sweeps tremulously o'er the quivering chords,
Waking their wailing tongues of melody,
And all the airs of heaven with music notes
Were woven, harmony dwelt ever there.
And many glorious forms were wandering
About the ethereal ways,--Bright forms they were,
And beautiful to look upon, with crowns
Of wreathed light rays on the sunny brows
Intwining gracefully, and, as the sun
At even-tide, those sweet-hued crowns shone forth;
And ever, as they wander'd, would a smile,
Such as is infant innocency's smile,
Upon the radiant face write the soul's joy ;-
And as they will'd, or sportive fancy bid,
They chaunted joyous songs, or hymn'd the praise
Of the Omnipotent, or strung the harp
To strains as soft as music of a dream,
When, 'neath a willow tree, some babbling brook
Hath lull'd the musing listener into sleep.
More beautiful and more glorious things than these There be in heaven: glories ineffable,
And rapturing beauties, which the earth-bound soul
May not conceive, or else but dimly see-
As it sees stars through the white mists of night,
Rayless and dim, around the full-orb'd moon
That sails the sky-vault like a spectre ;-so
May thought the heaven-joys picture;-for there were
The dazzling radiance of the eternal throne,—
The glory of the Omnipotent,-the groves
Eternal and unwithering,-Seraph forms
Of majesty surpassing, and the smiles
Of the Redeemer, shedding all around
New light, new bliss ;-and there were meeting friends
After long severing,-and the joyous sire,
Hailing his first-born, by untimely death
Snatch'd from his fond embrace ;-and lovers there
Met in delight, never to part again,
And thus these realms to them were twice a heaven;
Love here was not as it is seen on earth,
But pure and stainless, upon which no cloud
E'er flung its veil of gloom, but, as they trod
The bright paths and the bowers of bliss above,-
It grew into perfection, and in strength
Increasing, flourish'd there, for heaven is love.
To such delicious realms the just retired
At the command of God, and to such hell
Were hurl'd the wicked,—but a silent sigh,
The sigh of sorrowing Justice, went with them.
Translated from the German of Arndt, by DORA GREENWELL.
"These are thy wonders, Lord of Love!
To make us see we are but flowers that glide;
Which when we once can find and prove,
Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide.
Oh! that I once past changing were
Fast in God's Paradise, where no flower can wither!"
Where sweetest flowerets blend,
Our Lord himself with care
Its happy blooms will tend;
With patient love and true,
He watcheth o'er his flowers,
And freshens them with showers,
With sunshine, and with dew.
The sweetest floweret there,
What may it be but Love?
The soother of man's care,
The bliss of Saints above-
It is the red, red Rose,
That must with thorns abide,
And see its gentle pride
Droop-when the storm-wind blows.
The flower that God holds dear,
The nighest unto love,
Sheds many a blessing here
Known but to Him above;
Its name is Meekness there,
On Earth the violet sweet
Breathes fragrant at our feet,
And knows not she is fair!
Faith is the third sweet flower,
It gives its odorous bloom,
Unto a joyless hour,
When all beside is gloom;
Thus, on the gale of night
The Cereus sheds its soul,
When clear from Pole to Pole
The golden stars shine bright.
Sweet Hope! thou art no less
God's gentle child and dear,
What floweret may express
Thy gracious presence here?
Thy likeness we may trace,
When the pale Snowdrops bring
Words from the coming Spring,
In soft unspoken grace.
And thou, true-hearted flower,
Whose bright and cheerful eye
Gleams fair through sun and shower,
In fearless Constancy;
The image thine to bring
Of steadfast love whose power
Keeps for each changeful hour
Some bloom unwithering!
And Thou that lookest down,
As with an Angel's mien,
With white resplendent crown,
The Garden's peerless Queen-
Pure Lily! on thy smile
Undimm'd by earthly stain,
The likeness doth remain
Of spirits free from guile.
weet Sunday Bells, ye summon round
he youthful and the hoary-crown'd,
L'o one observance gravely bound;
Where comfort, strength, and joy are found.
And many a tale your burden tells
Of marriage-chimes and funeral knells:
Commixing memory's tender spells
With loftier power,-sweet Sunday Bells.
Sweet Sunday Bells, your pleading sound
At times in natural tears hath drown'd
The eyes of one, whom pew nor mound
May harbour in the hallow'd ground:
Whose heart to your old music swells;
Whose soul a deeper thought impels;
Who like an alien sadly dwells
Within your chime-sweet Sunday Bells.
A CHILD'S EVENING PRAYER.
he following simple and beautiful lines were composed by the great t S. T. COLERIDGE, for the use of his daughter when a child. A y little ingenuity will be sufficient to make such alterations as may necessary to suit the prayer to the circumstances of every fireside.
ERE on my bed my limbs I lay,
God grant me grace my prayers to say ;-
O God! preserve my mother dear
In strength and health for many a year;
And, O preserve my father too,
And may I pay him reverence due,
And may I my best thoughts employ
To be my parents' hope and joy;
And O! preserve my brothers both
From evil doings and from sloth,
And may we always love each other,
Our friends, our father, and our mother;
And still, O Lord, to me impart
An innocent and grateful heart,
That after last sleep I may
Awake to Thy eternal day!
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