Oh! change-Oh! wondrous change

Burst are the prison bars

This moment, there, so low,
So agonized, and now

Beyond the stars!

Oh! change stupendous change!

There lies the soulless clod;

The Sun eternal breaks -
The new immortal wakes -

Wakes with his God!

LIFE AND DEATH.

Он, fear not thou to die!

Far rather fear to live,

for life

Hath thousand snares thy faith to try,
By peril, pain and strife.

Brief is the work of death,
But life! the spirit shrinks to see,
How full ere Heaven recalls the breath

The cup of woe may be.

Oh, fear not thou to die!

No more, to suffer or to sin;

No snares without thy faith to try,
No traitor heart within;

But fear, oh rather fear,

The gay, the light, the changeful scene, The flattering smiles that greet thee here, From Heaven thy heart to wean.

Fear lest, in evil hour,

Thy pure and holy hope o'ercome,
By clouds that in the horizon lower,
Thy spirit feel the gloom

Which over earth and Heaven

The covering throws of fell despair,
And deems itself the unforgiven,
Predestined child of care.

Oh, fear not thou to die!

To die, and be that blesséd one

Who in the bright and beauteous sky
May feel his conflict done;

May feel that never more

The tear of grief, of shame, shall come For thousand wanderings from the power Who loved and called him home.

THE INFANT'S REMOVAL.

God took thee in his mercy,
A lamb untasked, untried;
He fought the fight for thee,
He won the victory,

And thou art sanctified!

I look around and see

The evil ways of men ;

And, O beloved child!

I'm more than reconciled

To thy departure then.

Now, like a dewdrop shrined
Within a crystal stone,

Thou'rt safe in heaven, my dove,

Safe with the Source of love,

The Everlasting One.

John Wilson.

1789.

MAGDALENE'S HYMN.

FROM "THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE."

THE air of death breathes through our souls,
The dead all round us lie;

By day and night the death-bell tolls,
And says, "Prepare to die."

The face that in the morning sun
We thought so wond'rous fair,
Hath faded, ere his course was run,
Beneath its golden hair.

I see the old man in his grave,
With thin locks silvery-gray;

I see the child's bright tresses wave
In the cold breath of clay.

The loving ones we loved the best,
Like music all are gone!

And the wan moonlight bathes in rest
Their monumental stone.

But not when the death-prayer is said
The life of life departs;
The body in the grave is laid,
Its beauty in our hearts.

And holy midnight voices sweet
Like fragrance fill the room,
And happy ghosts with noiseless feet
Come bright'ning from the tomb.

We know who sends the visions bright,
From whose dear side they came!
- We veil our eyes before thy light,
We bless our Saviour's name!

This frame of dust, this feeble breath
The Plague may soon destroy;
We think on Thee, and feel in death
A deep and awful joy.

Dim is the light of vanished years
In the glory yet to come;
O idle grief! O foolish tears!
When Jesus calls us home.