And silver cords again to earth have won me; How the lone paths retrace where thou wert playing And I, in joyous pride, By every place of flowers my course delaying And oh the home whence thy bright smile hath parted, Turned from its door away ? While through its chambers wandering, weary-hearted, Under the palm-trees thou no more shalt meet me, With the full water-urn; Nor will thy sleep's low dove-like breathings greet me, As 'midst the silence of the stars I wake, And watch for thy dear sake.. And thou, will slumber's dewy cloud fall round thee, Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee, A cry which none shall hear? What have I said, my child ?-Will He not hear thee, And, in the hush of holy midnight near thee, I give thee to thy God-the God that gave thee, And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee, And thou shalt be His child. Therefore, farewell!-I go, my soul may fail me, But thou, my first-born, droop not, nor bewail me; At last the Fane was reached. Fane means a place of worship. Hence ye profane, is a poetic expression. The word profane, thus used, means the unholythose who are not instructed in religion, or not capable of understanding and feeling any thing beautiful. The earth's one sanctuary. Other nations besides the Hebrews observed religious worship, and had splendid temples in honour of their gods-but those were false gods, and Mrs. Hemans supposes that the "house of the Lord in Shiloh," was the only temple then upon earth where the Lord had set his name, and where he was worshipped in the spirit and purity which he had revealed to a chosen people. Mrs. Hemans has given a brief but delightful sketch of the climate and scenery of Judea. The "olive boughs," the "palmy shades," and the fountain by the way side, according to Dr. Clarke, are still features of a country where, though names, rulers, and religions are changed, nature is still the same, and where the pastoral simplicity of ancient manners yet remains-where Rachel still tends the flocks, and Rebecca bears her pitcher to the well. Thomas Moore in one of his poems describes the delicious climate of Syria and Palestine, with their productions, SYRIA. Now, upon Syria's land of roses To one, who looked from upper air Fair gardens, shining streams, with ranks And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of the warm west,-as if inlaid Banqueting through the flowery vales; THOMAS MOORE. Mr. Moore is a native of Ireland, only a small portion of his writings are of a serious character; but two of his hymns are selected as illustrative of his sacred poetry. THE UNIVERSE IS GOD'S TEMPLE. To thee whose temple is all space, Pope. The turf shall be my fragrant shrine, *Pri orant tacite My choir shall be the moonlight waves, Even more than music, breathes of thee! I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown, Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, I'll read thy anger in the rack That clouds awhile the day-beam's track; Of sunny brightness, breaking through! There's nothing dark, below, above, THE KINGDOM COME. These verses repeat the figures by which the Hebrew Prophets Isaiah, and others indicate the reign of Christ. The Jews believed he would be their political ruler, and the splendid oriental imagery by which the circumstances of his power were illustrated in the prophetical writings, led them to presume that he would be arrayed in all the magnificence of eastern monarchs. Those who know the history of the Christian religion, know, that though the life of Jesus was humble, and his death ignominious, yet kings and princes, " from every nook of earth" have acknowledged the truth of this religion, and that every nation of civilized men is subject in some measure to the blessed influence of Christianity. Awake, arise!* thy light is come! From every nook of earth shall cluster; Lift up thine eyes around, and see, O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters Thy exiled sons returned to thee To thee return thy home-sick 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! Surely the isles shall wait for thee,— And waft their gold and silver over : And Lebanon thy pomp shall grace- And make the ground we tread on glorious. No 'more shall discord haunt thy ways The sun no more shall make thee bright, But God himself shall be thy light, And flash eternal glory through thee. |