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It is most needed in this vale of tears :

Almost beyond the sound of city chime, Yes, make the widow's heart to sing for joy ; At intervals heard through the breezeless air; The stranger to discern th' Almighty's shield When not the limberest leaf is seen to move, Held o'er his friendless head; the orphan child Save where the linnet lights upon the spray ; Feel, 'mid his tears, I have a father still !

When not a floweret bends its little stalk, 'Tis done. But hark that infant querulous voice Save where the bee alights upon the bloom ; Plaint not discordant to a parent's ear;

There, rapt in gratitude, in joy, and love, And see the father raise the white-robed babe The man of God will pass the Sabbath noon; In solemn dedication to the Lord :

Silence his praise ; his disembodied thoughts, The holy man sprinkles with forth-stretch'd hand | Loosed from the load of words, will high ascend The face of innocence; then earnest turns, Beyond the empyrean.And prays a blessing in the name of Him

Nor yet less pleasing at the heavenly throne, Who said, Let little children come to me ;

The Sabbath-service of the shepherd-boy. Forbid them not :* the infant is replaced

In some lone glen, where every sound is lull'a Among the happy band : they, smilingly,

To slumber, save the tinkling of the rill, In gay attire, hie to the house of mirth,

Or bleat of lamb, or hovering falcon's cry, The poor man's festival, a jubilee day,

Stretch'd on the sward, he reads of Jesse's son ; Remember'd long.

Or sheds a tear o'er him to Egypt sold, Nor would I leave unsung And wonders why he weeps ; the volume closed, The lofty ritual of our sister land :

With thyme-sprig laid between the leaves, he sings In vestment white, the minister of God

The sacred lays, his weekly lesson, conn'd Opens the book, and reverentially

With meikle care beneath the lowly roof, The stated portion reads. A pause ensues. Where humble lore is learnt, where humble worth The organ breathes its distant thunder-notes, Pines unrewarded by a thankless state. Then swells into a diapason full:

Thus reading, hymning, all alone, unseen, The people rising, sing, With harp, with harp, The shepherd-boy the Sabbath holy keeps, And voice of psalms; harmoniously attuned Till on the heights he marks the straggling bands The various voices blend ; the long drawn aisles, Returning homeward from the house of prayer. At every close, the lingering strain prolong. In peace they home resort. O blissful days! And now the tubes a mellow'd stop controls, When all men worship God as conscience wills: In softer harmony the people join,

Far other times our fathers' grandsires knew, While liquid whispers from yon orphan band A virtuous race, to godliness devote. Recall the soul from adoration's trance,

What though the skeptic's scorn hath dared to soil And fill the eye with pity's gentle tears.

The record of their fame! what though the men Again the organ-peal, loud-rolling, meets

Of worldly minds have dared to stigmatize The hallelujahs of the choir : Sublime,

The sister-cause, religion and the law, A thousand notes symphoniously ascend,

With superstition's name! yet, yet their deeds, As if the whole were one, suspended high

Their constancy in torture and in death,In air, soaring heavenward : afar they float, These on tradition's tongue still live; these shall Wafting glad tidings to the sick man's couch: On history's honest page be pictured bright Raised on his arm, he lists the cadence close, To latest times. Perhaps some bard, whose muse Yet thinks he hears it still: his heart is cheer'd; Disdains the servile strain of fashion's quire, He smiles on death ; but, ah! a wish will rise, - May celebrate their unambitious names. “Would I were now beneath that echoing roof! With them each day was holy, every hour No lukewarm accents from my lips should flow; They stood prepared to die, a people doom'd My heart would sing; and many a Sabbath-day To death ;-old men, and youths, and simple maids. My steps should thither turn; or, wandering far With them each day was holy; but that morn In solitary paths, where wild flowers blow, On which the angel said, See where the Lord There would I bless his name, who led me forth Was laid, joyous arose ; to die that day From death's dark vale, to walk amid those sweets, Was bliss. Long ere the dawn, by devious ways, Who gives the bloom of health once more to glow o'er hills, through woods, o'er dreary wastes, they Upon this cheek, and lights this languid eye.”

sought It is not only in the sacred fane

The upland muirs, where rivers, there but brooks, That homage should be paid to the Most High ; Dispart to different seas : Fast by such brooks There is a temple, one not made with hands- A little glen is sometimes scoop'd, a plat The vaulted firmament: Far in the woods, With green sward gay, and flowers that strangers


Amid the heathery wild, that all around “ And they brought young children to him that he Fatigues the eye ; in solitudes like these, should touch them; and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much dis. | Thy persecuted children, Scotia, foild pleased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to A tyrant's and a bigot's bloody laws : come unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the There, leaning on his spear, (one of the array, kingdom of God. Verily, I say unto you, Whosoever Whose gleam, in former days, had scathed the rose shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he On England's banner, and had powerless struck shall not enter therein. And he look them up in his

The infatuate monarch and his wavering host,) arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them." Mark X. 13-16.

The lyart veteran heard the word of God

By Cameron thunder'd, or by Renwick pour'd With melancholy ornaments-(the name,
In gentle stream; then rose the song, the loud The record of her blossoming age)-appears
Acclaim of praise. The wheeling plover ceased Unveil'd, and on it dust to dust is thrown,
Her plaint; the solitary place was glad,

The final rite. O! hark that sullen sound!
And on the distant cairns the watcher's ear* Upon the lowerd bier the shovell'd clay
Caught doubtfully at times the breeze-borne note, Falls fast, and fills the void. -
But years more gloomy follow'd ; and no more

But who is he Th'assembled people dared, in face of day, That stands aloof, with haggard, wistful eye, To worship God, or even at the dead

As if he coveted the closing grave? Of night, save when the wintry storm raved fierce, And he does covet it-his wish is death : And thunder-peals compellid the men of blood The dread resolve is fix'd ; his own right-hand To couch within their dens: then dauntlessly Is sworn to do the deed: The day of rest The scatter'd few would meet, in some deep dell No peace, no comfort brings his wo-worn spirit : By rocks o’er-canopied, to hear the voice,

Self-cursed, the hallow'd dome he dreads to enter; Their faithful pastor's voice: He by the gleam He dares not pray; he dares not sigh a hope; Of sheeted lightning oped the sacred book, Annihilation is his only heaven. And words of comfort spake: Over their souls Loathsome the converse of his friends : he shuns His accents soothing came,-as to her young The human face; in every careless eye The heathfowl's plumes, when, at the close of eve, Suspicion of his purpose seems to lurk. She gathers in, mournful, her brood dispersed Deep piny shades he loves, where no sweet note By murderous sport, and o'er the remnant spreads Is warbled, where the rook unceasing caws: Fondly her wings; close nestling 'neath her breast, Or far in moors, remote from house or hut, They, cherish'd, cower amid the purple blooms. Where animated nature seems extinct.

But wood and wild, the mountain and the dale, Where e'en the hum of wandering bee ne'er breaks The house of prayer itself, no place inspires The quiet slumber of the level waste; Emotions more accordant with the day,

Where vegetation's traces almost fail, Than does the field of graves, the land of rest:- Save where the leafless cannachs wave their tufts Oft at the close of evening prayer, the toll, Of silky white, or massy oaken trunks The solemn funeral toll, pausing, proclaims Half buried lie, and tell where greenwoods grew; The service of the tomb: the homeward crowds There on the heathless moss outstretch'd he broods Divide on either hand; the pomp draws near : O'er all his ever-changing plans of death: The choir to meet the dead go forth, and sing, The time, place, means, sweep like a stormy rack, I am the resurrection and the life.

In fleet succession, o'er his clouded soul ;Ah me! these youthful bearers robed in white, The poniard, -and the opium draught, that brings They tell a mournful tale ; some blooming friend Death by degrees, but leaves an awful chasm Is gone, dead in her prime of years :—'Twas she, Between the act and consequence,-the flash The poor man's friend, who, when she could not Sulphureous, fraught with instantaneous death ;give,

The ruin'd tower perch'd on some jutting rock, With angel tongue pleaded to those who could; So high that, 'tween the leap and dash below, With angel tongue and mild beseeching eye, The breath might take its flight in midway air, That ne'er besought in vain, save when she pray'd | This pleases for a while; but on the brink, For longer life, with heart resign’d to die,- Back from the toppling edge his fancy shrinks Rejoiced to die ; for happy visions bless'd

In horror: sleep at last his breast becalms,Her voyage's last days,t and hovering round, He dreams 'tis done; but starting wild awakes, Alighted on her soul, giving presage

Resigning to despair his dream of joy. That heaven was nigh: - what a burst

Then hope, faint hope, revives-hope, that despair Of rapture from her lips ! what tears of joy May to his aid let loose the demon frenzy, Her heavenward eyes sufsused! Those eyes are To lead scared conscience blindfold o'er the brink closed;

Of self-destruction's cataract of blood. But all her loveliness is not yet flown:

Most miserable, most incongruous wretch ! She smiled in death, and still her cold, pale face Darest thou to spurn thy life, the boon of God, Retains that smile; as when a waveless lake, Yet dreadest to approach his holy place? In which the wintry stars all bright appear,

O dare to enter in ! maybe some word,
Is sheeted by a nightly frost with ice,

Or sweetly chanted strain, will in thy heart
Still it reflects the face of heaven unchanged, Awake a chord in unison with life.
Unruffled by the breeze or sweeping blast.

What are thy fancied woes to his, whose fate
Again that knell! The slow procession stops : Is (sentence dire !) incurable disease,-
The pall withdrawn, death's altar, thick emboss'd The outcast of a lazar house, homeless,

Or with a home where eyes do scowl on him! * Sentinels were placed on the surrounding hills to Yet he, e'en he, with feeble steps draws near, give warning of the approach of the military.

With trembling voice joins in the song of praise. + Towards the end of Columbus's voyage to the new Patient he waits the hour of his release ; world, when he was already near, but not in sight of land, He knows he has a home beyond the grave. the drooping hopes of his mariners (sor his own confidence

Or turn thee to that house with studded doors, seems to have remained unmoved) were revived by the appearance of birds, at first hovering round the ship, and And iron-visor'd windows; even there then alighting on the rigging.

The Sabbath sheds a beam of bliss, though faint ;

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The debtor's friends (for still he has some friends) | His child shall still receive instruction's boon.
Have time to visit him; the blossoming pea, But hark,-a noise,-a cry,--a gleam of swords -
That climbs the rust-worn bars, seems fresher tinged; Resistance is in vain,-he's borne away,
And on the little turf, this day renew'd,

Nor is allow'd to clasp his weeping child.
The lark, his prison mate, quivers the wing

My innocent, so helpless, yet so gay!
With more than wonted joy. See, through the bars How could I bear to be thus rudely torn
That pallid face retreating from the view, From thee ;-to see thee lift thy little arm,
That glittering eye following, with hopeless look, And impotently strike the ruffian man,-
The friends of former years, now passing by To hear thee bid him chidingly-begone !
In peaceful fellowship to worship God :

O ye who live at home, and kiss each eve
With them, in days of youthful years, he roam'd Your sleeping infants ere you go to rest,
O'er hill and dale, o'er broomy knowe; and wist And, waken’d by their call, lift up your eyes
As little as the blithest of the band

Upon their morning smile,-think, think of those,
Of this his lot; condemn'd, condemn’d unheard, Who, torn away without one farewell word
The party for his judge ;--among the throng, To wife or children, sigh the day of life
The Pharisaical hard-hearted man

In banishment from all that's dear to man ;He sees pass on, to join the heaven-taught prayer, O raise your voices in one general peal Forgive our debts as we forgive our debtors : Remonstrant, for th’ oppress'd. And ye, who sit From unforgiving lips most impious prayer ! Month after month devising impost laws, O happier far the victim than the hand

Give some small portion of your midnight vigils That deals the legal stab! The injured man To mitigate, if not remove, the wrong. Enjoys internal, settled calm; to him

Relentless justice! with fate-furrow'd brow; The Sabbath bell sounds peace; he loves to meet Wherefore to various crimes of various guilt, His fellow sufferers to pray and praise :

One penalty, the most severe, allot? And many a prayer, as pure as e’er was breathed Why, pallid in state, and mitred with a wreath In holy fanes, is sigh'd in prison halls.

Of nightshade, dost thou sit portentously, Ah me! that clank of chains, as kneel and rise Beneath a cloudy canopy of sighs, The death-doom'd row. But see, a smile illumes Of fears, of trembling hopes, of boding doubts ; 'The face of some; perhaps they're guiltless : 0! Death's dart thy mace !-Why are the laws of God, And must high-minded honesty endure

Statutes promulged in characters of fire,* The ignominy of a felon's fate!

Despised in deep concerns, where heavenly guidance No, 'tis not ignominious to be wrong'd:

Is most required? The murderer-let him die, No; conscious exultation swells their hearts And him who lists his arm against his parent, To think the day draws nigh, when in the view His country, or his voice against his God. Of angels, and of just men perfect made,

Let crimes less heinous dooms less dreadful meet The mark which rashness branded on their names Than loss of life! so said the law dirine: Shall be effaced ;-when wasted on life's storm, That law beneficent, which mildly stretch'd, Their souls shall reach the Sabbath of the skies;- To men forgotten and forlorn, the hand As birds from blcak Norwegia's wintry coast Of restitution : Yes, the trumpet's voice Blown out to sea, strive to regain the shore, The Sabbath of the jubileet announced : But, vainly striving, yield them to the blast.- The freedom-freighted blast, through all the land Swept o'er the deep to Albion's genial isle, At once, in every city, echoing rings, Amazed they light amid the bloomy sprays From Lebanon to Carmel's woody cliffs, Of some green vale, there to enjoy new loves, So loud, that far within the desert's verge And join in harmony unheard before.

The couching lion starts, and glares around.
The land is groaning ’neath the guilt of blood Free is the bondman now, each one returns
Spilt wantonly: for every death-doom'd man, To his inheritance: The man, grown old
Who, in his boyhood, has been left untaught In servitude far from his native fields,
That wisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, Hastes joyous on his way; no hills are steep,
And all her paths are peace, unjustly dies.

Smooth is each rugged path; his little ones
But, ah! how many are thus left untaught,-
How many would be left, but for the band
United to keep holy to the Lord

*"And it came to pass, on the third day in the morning,

that there were thunders and lightnings, and a thick A portion of his day, by teaching those

cloud upon the mount, and the voice of the trumpet ex. Whom Jesus loved with forth-stretch'd hand to ceeding loud; so that all the people that was in the camp bless!

trembled." Exod. xix. 16. Behold yon motley train, by two and two,

† “And thou shall number seven Sabbaths of years Each with a Bible 'neath its little arm,

unto thee, seven times seven years; and the space of the

seven Sabbaths of years shall be unto thee forty and nine Approach well pleased, as if they went to play,

years. Then shalt thou cause the trumpet of the jubilee The dome where simple lore is learnt unbought: to sound on the tenth day of the seventh month; in the And mark the father 'mid the sideway throng; day of atonement shall ye make the trumpet sound Well do I know him by his glistening eye, throughout all your land. And ye shall hallow the fiftieth That follows steadfastly one of the line,

year, and proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto A dark seafaring man he looks to be;

all the inhabitants thereof: it shall be a jubilee unto you;

and ye shall return every man unto his possession, and And much it glads his boding heart to think,

ye shall return every man unto his family." Lev. xxv. That when once more he sails the valley'd deep, 8-10.

Sport as they go, while oft the mother chides No dawn is ever spread, whose native vale
The lingering step, lured by the way-side flowers : Presented to his closed eyes a blank,
At length the hill, from which a farewell look, Deplores its distance now. There well he knew
And still another parting look, he cast

Each object, though unseen; there could he wend On his paternal vale, appears in view :

His way, guideless, through wilds and mazy woods ; The summit gain'd, throbs hard his heart with joy Each aged tree, spared when the forest fell, And sorrow blent, to see that vale once more ; Was his familiar friend, from the smooth birch, Instant his eager eye darts to the roof

With rind of silken touch, to the rough elm : Where first he saw the light; his youngest born The three gray stones that mark'd where heroes lay He lifts, and, pointing to the much-loved spot, Mourn'd by the harp, mourn’d by the melting voice Sayses. There thy fathers lived, and there they Of Cona, oft his resting-place had been ; sleep.”

Oft had they told him that his home was near: Onward he wends; near and more near he draws: The tinkle of the rill, the murmuring How sweet the tinkle of the palm-bower'd brook! So gentle of the brook, the torrent's rush, The sunbeam slanting through the cedar grove The cataract's din, the ocean's distant roar, How lovely, and how mild! But lovelier still The echo's answer to his foot or voice, The welcome in the eye of ancient friends, All spoke a language which he understood, Scarce known at first! and dear the fig-tree shade All warn'd him of his way. But most he feels, "Neath which on Sabbath eve his father told* Upon the hallow'd morn, the saddening change: Of Israel from the house of bondage freed,

No more he hears the gladsome village bell Led through the desert to the promised land ; Ring the bless'd summons to the house of God: With eager arms the aged stem he clasps,

And-for the voice of psalms, loud, solemn, grand, And with his tears the furrow'd bark bedews: That cheer'd his darkling path, as with slow step And still, at midnight hour, he thinks he hears And feeble, he toil'd up the spire-topt hill,The blissful sound that brake the bondman's chains, A few faint notes ascend among the trees. The glorious peal of freedom and of joy!

What though the cluster'd vine there hardly Did ever law of man a power like this

tempts Display? power marvellous as merciful,

The traveller's hand; though birds of dazzling plume Which, though in other ordinances still

Perch on the loaded boughs ;“Give me thy woods, Most plainly seen, is yet but little mark'd (Exclaims the banish'd man,) thy barren woods, For what it truly is,-a miracle !

Poor Scotland! Sweeter there the reddening haw, Stupendous, ever new, perform’d at once

The sloe, or rowan's* bitter bunch, than here In every region, -yea, on every sea

The purple grape; dearer the redbreast's note, Which Europe's navies plough ;-yes, in all lands That mourns the fading year in Scotia's vales, From pole to pole, or civilized to rude,

Than Philomel's, where spring is ever new; People there are, to whom the Sabbath morn More dear to me the redbreast's sober suit, Dawns, shedding dews into their drooping hearts :

So like a wither'd leaflet, than the glare Yes, far beyond the high-heaved western wave,

Of gaudy wings, that make the iris dim." Amid Columbia's wildernesses vast,

Nor is regret exclusive to the old : The words which God in thunder from the mount The boy, whose birth was midway o'er the main, Of Sinai spake, are heard, and are obey'd.

A ship his cradle, by the billows rock'd, Thy children, Scotia, in the desert land,

“ The nursling of the storm,”-although he claims Driven from their homes by fell monopoly,

No native land, yet does he wistful hear Keep holy to the Lord the seventh day.

Of some far distant country still call'd home, Assembled under loftiest canopy

Where lambs of whitest fleece sport on the hills; Of trees primeval, soon to be laid low

Where gold-speckd fishes wanton in the streams : They sing, By Babel's streams we sat and wept. Where little birds, when snowflakes dim the air,

What strong mysterious links enchain the heart Light on the floor, and peck the table crumbs, To regions where the morn of life is spent!

And with their singing cheer the winter day. In foreign lands, though happier be the clime,

But what the loss of country to the woes Though round our board smile all the friends we of banishment and solitude combined ! love,

0! my heart bleeds to think there now may live The face of nature wears a stranger's look.

One hapless man, the remnant of a wreck, Yea, though the valley which we loved be swept

Cast on some desert island of that main Of its inhabitants, none left behind,

Immense, which stretches from the Cochin shore Not e'en the poor blind man who sought his bread

To Acapulco. Motionless he sits, From door to door, still, still there is a want;

As is the rock his seat, gazing whole days, Yes, even he, round whom a night that knows

With wandering eye, o'er all the watery waste ;

Now striving to believe the albatross " And these words which I command thee this day A sail appearing on the horizon's verge; shall be in thine heart: And thou shalt teach them dili. Now vowing ne'er to cherish other hope gently unto thy children, and shalt talk of them when Than hope of death. Thus pass his weary hours, thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the Till welcome evening warn him that 'tis time way, and when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. Upon the shell-notch'd calendar to mark Thou shalt say unto thy son, We were Pharaoh's bond. men in Egypt; and the Lord brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand.” Deut. vi. 6,7. 21.

* Mountain ash.

Another day, another dreary day,

Breathless, the man forlorn listens, and thinks Changeless ;-for, in these regions of the sun, It is a dream. Fuller the voices swell. The wholesome law that dooms mankind to toil, He looks, and starts to see, moving along, Bestowing grateful interchange of rest

A fiery wave,* (so seems it,) crescent formid, And labour, is annull'd; for there the trees, Approaching to the land: straightway he sees Adorn’d at once with bud, and flower, and fruit, A towering whiteness; 'tis the heaven-fill'd sails Drop, as the breezes blow, a shower of bread That waft the mission'd men, who have renounced And blossoms on the ground. But yet by him, Their homes, their country, nay, almost the world, The hermit of the deep, not unobserved

Bearing glad tidings to the farthest isles 'The Sabbath passes. 'Tis his great delight. Of ocean, that the dead shall rise again. Each seventh eve he marks the farewell ray, Forward the gleam-girt castle coastwise glides; And loves, and sighs to think,-that setting sun It seems as it would pass away. To cry Is now impurpling Scotland's mountain tops, The wretched man in vain attempts, in vain, Or, higher risen, slants athwart her vales,

Powerless his voice as in a fearful dream: Tinting with yellow light the quivering throat Not so his hand: he strikes the flint,-a blaze Of day-spring lark, while woodland birds below Mounts from the ready heap of wither'd leaves : Chant in the dewy shade. Thus all night long The music ceases, accents harsh succeed, He watches, while the rising moon describes Harsh, but most grateful: downward drop the The progress of the day in happier lands.

sails; And now he almost fancies that he hears

Ingulf'd the anchor sinks; the boat is launch'd;
The chiming from his native village church; But cautious lies aloof till morning dawn:
And now he sings, and fondly hopes the strain O then the transport of the man unused
May be the same that sweet ascends at home To other human voice besides his own,-
In congregation full,—where, not without a tear His native tongue to hear! he breathes at home,
They are remember'd who in ships behold

Though earth's diameter is interposed.
The wonders of the deep:* he sees the hand, Of perils of the sea he has no dread,
The widow'd hand, that veils the eye suffused; Full well assured the mission d bark is safe,
He sees his orphan'd boy look up, and strive Held in the hollow of th’Almighty's hand.
The widow'd heart to soothe. His spirit leans (And signal thy deliverances have been
On God. Nor does he leave his weekly vigil Of these thy messengers of peace and joy.)
Though tempests ride o'er welkin-lashing waves From storms that loudly threaten to unfix
On winds of cloudless wing it though lightnings Islands rock-rooted in the ocean's bed,

Thou dost deliver them,-and from the calm, So vivid, that the stars are hid and seen

More dreadful than the storm, when motionless In awful alternation : Calm he views

Upon the purple deep the vessel lies The far exploding firmament, and dares

For days, for nights, illumed by phosphor lamps; To hope-one bolt in mercy is reserved

When sea-birds seem in nests of flame to float For his release: and yet he is resign'd

When backward starts the boldest mariner To live; because full well he is assured,

To see, while o'er the side he leans, his face Thy hand does lead him, thy right hand upholds. As if deep tinged with blood.And thy right hand does lead him. Lo! at last,

Let worldly men One sacred eve, he hears, faint from the deep, The cause and combatants contemptuous scorn, Music remote, swelling at intervals,

And call fanatics them who hazard health
As if th’imbodied spirit of such sounds

And life in testifying of the truth,
Came slowly floating on the shoreward wave: Who joy and glory in the cross of Christ!
The cadence well he knows,-a hymn of old, What were the Galilean fishermen
Where sweetly is rehearsed the lowly state But messengers, commission'd to announce
Of Jesus, when his birth was first announced, The resurrection, and the life to come!
In midnight music, by an angel choir,

They too, though clothed with power of mighty To Bethlehem's shepherds, as they watch'd their works flocks.

Miraculous, were oft received with scorn;

Oft did their words fall powerless, though enforced * “ They that go down to the sea in ships, that do busi. By deeds that mark’d Omnipotence their friend: ness in great waters; these see the works of the Lord, But, when their efforts fail'd, unweariedly and his wonders in the deep." Psal. cvii.

+ In the tropical regions, the sky during storms is often They onward went, rejoicing in their course. without a cloud.

"If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall thy hand lead the babe wrapped in swaddling.clothes, lying in a manger. me, and thy right hand shall hold me." Psal. cxxxix. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of

$ “And there were in the same country shepherds the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory to abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flocks by God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward night. And lo! the angel of the Lord came upon them, men.” Luke ii. 8–14. and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and * "In some seas, as particularly about the coast of they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Malabar, as a ship foats along, it seems during the night Fear not, for, behold! I bring you good tidings of great to be surrounded with fire, and to leave a long track of joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born light behind it. Whenever the sea is gently agitated, it this day in the city of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the seems converted into liule stars: every drop as it breaks Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you, Ye shall find einits light, like bodies electrified in the dark."-Darisi

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