So, from the depth of days, when earth yet wore Her solemn beauty and primeval dew, I call you, gracious Forms! Oh! come, restore Awhile that holy freshness, and renew Life's morning dreams. Come with the voice, the lyre, Imperial in their visionary fire; Oh! steep my soul in that old glorious time, When God's own whisper shook the cedars of your clime! II. INVOCATION CONTINUED, AND come, ye faithful! round Messiah seen, Ethereal cradle.-From your heart subdued All haughty dreams of power had wing'd their flight, And left high place for martyr fortitude, True faith, long-suffering love.-Come to me, come And, as the seas beneath your master's tread Fell into crystal smoothness, round him spread Like the clear pavement of his heavenly home; So in your presence, let the soul's great deep Sink to the gentleness of infant sleep. III. THE SONG OF MIRIAM. A SONG for Israel's God!-Spear, crest, and helm, A song for God's own victory!-O, thy lays, IV. RUTH. THE plume-like swaying of the auburn corn, Fall'n in its weariness. Thy fatherland Beats thy calm heart; and if thy gentle eyes Gleam tremulous through tears, 'tis not to rue Those words, immortal in their deep love's tone, Thy people and thy God shall be mine own!” 66 V. THE VIGIL OF RIZPAH. "And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven; and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night." 2 SAM. xxi. 10. WHO watches on the mountain with the dead, A seer awaiting the deep spirit's might? Once proudly graceful, heavy beats the rain; She recks not living for the unburied slain, Only to scare the vulture from their bed. So, night by night, her vigil hath she kept VI. THE REPLY OF THE SHUNAMITE "And she answered, I dwell among mine own people." 2 KINGS iv. 13. "I DWELL among mine own,”-Oh! happy thou! Not for the sunny clusters of the vine, Not for the olives on the mountain's brow; Nor the flocks wandering by the flowery line Laugh to the light of waters-not for these, Whose kindly whisper floats o'er thee and thine- Where that sweet depth of still contentment lies; And for thy holy household love, which clings Unto all ancient and familiar things, Weaving from each some link for home's dear charities. VII. THE ANNUNCIATION. LOWLIEST of women, and most glorified! In thy still beauty sitting calm and lone, A brightness round thee grew-and by thy side Kindling the air, a form ethereal shone, Solemn, yet breathing gladness. From her throne had risen with more imperial eye, queen A A stately prophetess of victory From her proud lyre had struck a tempest's tone, For such high tidings as to thee were brought, Chosen of Heaven! that hour:-but thou, O thou! E'en as a flower with gracious rains o'erfraught, Thy virgin head beneath its crown didst bow, And take to thy meek breast th' all holy word, And own thyself the handmaid of the Lord. VIII. THE SONG OF THE VIRGIN. YET as a sunburst flushing mountain snow, Which living harps the quires of Heaven among |