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Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield,

And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field.
The swain in barren deserts with surprise
Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise,
And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear
New falls of water murmuring in his ear:
On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
The green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.
Waste sandy valleys, once perplexed with thorn,
The spiry fir and shapely box adorn;

To leafless shrubs the flowering palms succeed,
And odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.

The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
And boys in flowery bands the tiger lead;

The steer and lion at one crib shall meet,
And harmless serpents lick the pilgrim's feet.
The smiling infant in his hand shall take
The crested basilisk and speckled snake;

Pleased the green lustre of their scales survey,

And with their forky tongue and pointless sting shall play.

Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise!

Exalt thy towery head, and lift thy eyes!

See, a long race thy spacious courts adorn ;
See future sons, and daughters yet unborn,
In crowding ranks on every side arise,
Demanding life, impatient for the skies!
See barbarous nations at thy gates attend,
Walk in thy light, and in thy Temple bend;
See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,

And heaped with products of Sabean springs!
For thee Idume's spicy forests blow,

And seeds of gold in Ophir's mountains glow.
See heaven its sparkling portals wide display,
And break upon thee in a flood of day !
No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn,
But lost, dissolved in thy superior rays,
One tide of glory, one unclouded biaze,
O'erflow thy courts: the Light Himself shall shine
Revealed, and God's eternal day be thine!

The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
Rocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away;
But fixed His word, His saving power remains;
Thy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns.
Alexander Pope.

THE SAVIOUR.

Το conquer and to save, the Son of God
Came to His own in great humility,
Who wont to ride on cherub-wings abroad,

And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky.
The mountains bent their necks to form His road;

The clouds dropped down their fatness from on high;

Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flowed,
And the wind kissed His garment tremblingly!

The

grave unbolted half his grisly door

(For darkness and the deep had heard His fame, Nor longer might their ancient rule endure);

The mightiest of mankind stood hushed and tame;
And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came
To work His will, and kingdom to secure:

No strength He needed save His Father's name;

Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor. Reginald Heber.