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MOUNT HOREB.

ON Horeb's rock the Prophet stood,
The Lord before him passed;
A hurricane, in angry mood,

Swept by him strong and fast:
The forests fell before its force,-
The rocks were shivered by its course:
God rode not in the blast ;-
'Twas but the whirlwind of his breath,
Announcing danger, wreck, and death.

It ceased-the air was mute-a cloud
Came, hiding up the sun;

When through the mountains, deep and loud,
An earthquake thundered on.
The frighted eagle sprang in air,
The wolf ran howling from his lair:
God was not in the storm ;-
'Twas but the rolling of his car,-
The trampling of his steeds from far.

'Twas still again, and Nature stood,
And calmed her ruffled frame;
When swift from heaven a fiery flood
To earth devouring came :

Down to the depths the ocean fled,—
The sickening sun looked wan and dead :
Yet God filled not the flame ;-

'Twas but the fierceness of his eye,
That lighted through the troubled sky.

At last, a voice, all still and small,
Rose sweetly on the ear,
Yet rose so clear and shrill, that all

In heaven and earth might hear.
It spoke of peace, it spoke of love,
It spoke as angels speak above;

And God Himself was near!

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For, oh! it was a Father's voice,

That bade his trembling world rejoice.

Speak, gracious Lord! speak ever thus ;
And let thy terrors prove

But harbingers of peace to us,

But heralds of thy love!

Come through the earthquake, fire, and storm, Come in thy mildest, sweetest form,

And all our fears remove!

One word from Thee is all we claim ;
Be that one word a Saviour's name!

TRUE PEACE.

WHEN groves by moonlight silence keep,
And winds the vexed waves release,
And fields are hushed, and cities sleep,-
Lord! is not this the hour of Peace?

When infancy at evening tries

By turns to climb each parent's knees, And gazing meets their raptured eyes,Lord! is not this the hour of Peace?

In golden pomp when autumn smiles,
And every vale its rich increase
In man's full barns exulting piles,-

Lord! is not this the hour of Peace?

When Mercy points where Jesus bleeds,
And Faith beholds thine anger cease,

And Hope to black despair succeeds ;-
This, Father! this alone is Peace!

PARAPHRASE OF PSALM XLVI.

GOD is our strength, the hope that ne'er shall fail!
Droop not, my heart, nor thou, my courage, quail;
Though the firm earth to her foundations shake,
Though crash the forests, and the mountains quake,
Though uptorn ocean in wild surges roll,
Though the world tremble-be thou firm, my soul.

Rest on thy God, and upward turn thine eye,
From earthly jars, to that calm world on high;
To the pure stream, on whose eternal brink,
Draughts of unfading joy the faithful drink;
Full as that stream that glads the blest abode,
Flow the unbounded mercies of our God.

In heaven He reigns, in Sion, too, He dwells;
When foes assail her, He their power repels;
Fierce raged the band-God spake the dread array
Melts as the mist before the beam of day;
God is our strength, beneath his saving arm,
We smile at danger, and defy alarm.

Behold the wonders of his mighty hand;

Mark how destruction sweeps the ravaged land;
He breaks the battle, knaps the spear, the bow;
Burns the proud car, and lays the victor low:
Bow, then, ye nations, to the chastener's rod;

Bow your proud hearts, and, trembling, own your God!

God is our strength; beneath his saving arm,

We smile at danger, and defy alarm.

THE SABBATH EVE.

Is there a time when moments flow

More lovelily than all beside,

It is, of all the times below,

A Sabbath Eve in summer-tide.

Oh! then the setting sun smiles fair,

And all below and all above,
The different forms of nature, wear
One universal garb of love.

And then the peace that Jesus beams,
The life of grace, the death of sin,
With nature's placid woods and streams,
Is peace without, and peace within.

Delightful scene-a world at rest,

A God all love-no grief, no fear,
A heavenly hope-a peaceful breast,
A smile unsullied by a tear.

If heaven be ever felt below,

A scene so heavenly sure as this
May cause a heart on earth to know
Some foretaste of celestial bliss.

Delightful hour-how soon will night
Spread her dark mantle o'er thy reign,

And morrow's quick returning light
Must call us to the world again.

Yet will there dawn at last a day,
A sun that never sets shall rise;
Night will not veil a ceaseless ray!

The heavenly Sabbath never dies!

THE VOICE OF PRAYER.

I HEAR it in the summer wind,
I feel it in the lightning's gleam;

A tongue in every leaf I find,

A voice in every running stream.

It speaks in the enamelled flower,

With grateful incense borne on high; It echoes in the dripping shower,

And breathes in midnight's breathless sky.
Through all her scenes of foul and fair,
Nature presents a fervent prayer;
In all her myriad shapes of love,
Nature transmits a prayer above.

Day unto day, and night to night,
The eloquent appeal convey;
Flasheth the cheerful orb of light,

To bid creation bend and pray:
The shadowy clouds of darkness steal
Along the horizon's azure cope,
Bidding distracted nations kneel

To Him, the Lord of quenchless hope; To Him, who died that hope might live, And lived, eternal life to give ;

Who bore the pangs of death, to save

The dead from an eternal grave

Oh! thread yon tangled coppice now,

Where the sweetbrier and woodbine strive;

Where music drops from every bough,
Like honey from the forest hive;
Where warbling birds, and humming bees,
And wild-flowers round a gushing spring,

And blossoms sprinkled o'er the trees,
And gorgeous insects on the wing,
Unite to load the gladdened air
With melody of grateful prayer;
Unite their Maker's name to bless
In that brief span of happiness!

And can it be that Man alone

Forbids the tide of prayer to flow, For whom his God forsook a throne,

To weep, to bleed-a man of woe?

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