The fish that o'er the billows leap,
Their pathway in the mighty deep;
The beasts that in green pastures rove,
And warbling songsters of the grove.
Whilst these, the creatures of thy hand,
Submit themselves to his command,
They through the earth's wide realms record
Thy power and skill, Creator Lord!
All that have breath, thy love proclaim,
And infants learn to lisp thy name!
THE BUTTERFLY'S FIRST FLIGHT.
From the New Monthly Magazine.
THOU hast burst from thy prison,
Bright child of the air,
Like a spirit just risen
From its mansion of care.
Thou art joyously winging
Thy first ardent flight,
Where the gay lark is singing
Her notes of delight:
Where the sun-beams are throwing
Their glories on thine, Till thy colours are glowing With tints more divine.
Then tasting new pleasure
In Summer's green bowers,
Reposing at leisure
On fresh-open'd flowers;
Or delighted to hover
Around them, to see
Whose charms, airy rover,
Bloom sweetest for thee;
And fondly inhaling
Their fragrance, till day From thy bright eye is failing And fading away.
Then seeking some blossom
Which looks to the west,
Thou dost find in its bosom
Sweet shelter and rest:
And there dost betake thee
Till darkness is o'er,
And the sun-beams awake thee
To pleasure once more.
WHEN marshall'd on the nightly plain
The glittering host bestud the sky,
One Star alone, of all the train,
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.
Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.
Once on the raging seas I rode :
The storm was loud, the night was dark;
The ocean yawn'd, and rudely blow'd
The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.
Deep horror then my vitals froze;
Death-struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem;
When suddenly a star arose,
It was the Star of Bethlehem.
It was my guide, my light, my all;
It bade my dark forbodings cease;
And through the storm and dangers' thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.
Now safely moor'd! my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,
For ever and for evermore,
The star!-The Star of Bethlehem!
WHEN day's bright banner, first unfurl'd, From darkness frees the shrouded world, The skylark, singing as he soars,
On the fresh air his carol pours.
But though to heaven he wings his flight,
As if he lov'd those realms of light,
He still returns with weary wing,
On earth to end his wandering.
Aspiring bird! in thee I find
An emblem of the youthful mind,
Whose earliest voice, like thine, is giv'n
To notes of joy that mount to heaven;
But fetter'd by the toils of life,
Its sordid cares, its bitter strife,
It feels its noble efforts vain,
And sadly sinks to earth again.
MARK the golden grains that pass
Brightly through this channell❜d glass,
Measuring by their ceaseless fall
Heaven's most precious gift to all!
Busy, till its sand be done,
See the shining current run;
But, the allotted numbers shed,
Another hour of life hath fled!
Its task perform'd, its travail past,
Like mortal man it rests at last!
Yet let some hand invert its frame,
And all its powers return the same;
Whilst any golden grains remain,
"Twill work its little hour again.
But who shall turn the glass for Man,
When all his golden grains have ran?
Who shall collect his scatter'd sand,
Dispers'd by Time's unsparing hand?
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