Be thou at peace!-th' all-seeing eye, The searching glance which none may flee, THE OCEAN. They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep.Psalm cvii. 23, 24. He that in venturous barks hath been A wanderer on the deep, Can tell of many an awful scene, For many a fair majestic sight Go! ask him of the whirlpool's roar, Of icebergs, floating o'er the main, 'Mid the bright realms of frost; Of coral rocks from waves below In steep ascent that tower, And, fraught with peril, daily grow, Of sea-fires which at dead of night And make th' expanse of ocean bright Oh God! thy name they well may praise, And trace the wonders of thy ways, Where rocks and billows frown. If glorious be that awful deep, What then art thou, who bidd'st it keep Let heaven and earth in praise unite, Whose word can rouse the tempest's might, THE THUNDER STORM. DEEP, fiery clouds o'ercast the sky, The woods are hush'd, the waves at rest, The lake is dark and still, Reflecting on its shadowy breast, Each form of rock and hill. The lime-leaf waves not in the grove, The birds have ceased their songs of love, 'Tis noon;-yet Nature's calm profound Seems as at midnight deep; -But hark! what peal of awful sound The thunder bursts!-its rolling might The gathered lightnings break. Yet shrink not, fear not thou, my child! Doth not thy God behold thee still, Doth not his bower all nature fill, Know, hadst thou eagle-pinions free, To track the realms of air, Thou couldst not reach a spot where He Would not be with thee there! In the wide city's peopled towers, 'Midst the deep woodland's loneliest bowers, Then fear not, though the angry sky A thousand darts should cast;Why should we tremble e'en to die, And be with Him at last? THE BIRDS. Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God? St. Luke, xii. 6. TRIBES of the air! whose favour'd race In form, in plumage, and in song, Nor differ less your forms, your flight, 1The Italians call all singing-birds, Birds of the gentle beak. Far other scenes, remote, sublime, Where swain or hunter may not climb, Others there are, that make their home Where Afric's burning realm expands, The swan, where northern rivers glide The condor, where the Andes tower, Bright in the orient realms of morn, The bird of Paradise. Some, amidst India's groves of palm, |