When all earthly scenes are fading,
When the last pulse falters low;
And Death's cloud is overshading
With its gloom the sunken brow;
When the fallen eye receiveth

That sad, fix'd, and stony stare;
While the sceptic heart believeth
Death alone is victor there;

Let no demon form then scare me,
In the spirit's last lone fight;

Let Thine angels come and bear me

Up to Heaven's bright home of light!

DESTRUCTION OF THE TEMPLE.

As when the guardian powers of life fast wane,
And leave the lion dead on Afric's plain,
While vultures, swooping from the distant sky,
Feed on the wreck of helpless majesty;
So when thy angry God, in wrath divine,
Withdrew His guardian Presence from thy shrine,
The haughty Roman dared his sword to draw

On those whom God vouchsafed to guard no more;

And thou, their Temple loved, their pride, their

gem,

Fairest of all in fair Jerusalem!

In streaming conflagration broad and high,

Clouded the beauty of the unsullied sky.

'TIS I; BE NOT AFRAID.

'Twas night; the mariner's lone bark
Drove o'er deep Galilee's dim wave;
Above, the thunder-cloud loom'd dark;
Beneath, wide yawn'd the watery grave:
With toil bow'd down, with sorrow worn,
The weary oar aside they laid,—

When on the midnight watch was borne
The voice, ""Tis I; be not afraid."

They heed Him not, but deem that form
Is come to fright, and not to save;

And think the Genius of the storm

Is hovering o'er the surging wave:

M

Oh! brighter than the light of morn

Comes to the night-worn traveller's aid,

Full clear above the roar is borne

That voice, "'Tis I; be not afraid.”

"Tis thus with us on Life's wild sea,

In Passion's storm, in Sorrow's night;
When the bright lamps of comfort flee,
And Faith's pole-star withdraws her light;

If the blest Saviour then draws near,
We shrink affrighted and dismay'd;

Deem Him some spirit dark, nor hear

His voice, ""Tis I; be not afraid."

Oft as Affliction's billows flow,

And whelm our soul with threaten'd doom;

When the fell blackness of our woe

Is but exceeded by the tomb;

Lord, ope our eyes to see thy form,

What though in robes of gloom array'd ;

Our ears to hear, above the storm,

Thy voice, ""Tis I; be not afraid."

ST. MATTHEW, xxvi. 39.

"O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me."

If it be possible, O my Father God,
Remove, remove this heavy shade of woe,
That whelms in black eclipse my sun of health
In zenith power; but if that dreadful shade
Depart not, till my orb earth's boundary touch-
This darkened life go down in outer night
Without another ray of joyous health
Thy will be done!