Thou from primeval nothingness didst call

First chaos, then existence; Lord! on Thee

Eternity had its foundation :-all

Sprung forth from Thee :—of light, joy, harmony,

Sole origin :-all life, all beauty, Thine,

Thy word created all, and doth create:

Thy splendour fills all space with rays divine.

Thou art, and wert, and shalt be! Glorious! Great! Light-giving, life-sustaining Potentate!

Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround:
Upheld by Thee, by Thee inspired with breath!

Thou the beginning with the end hast bound,
And beautifully mingled life and death!

As sparks mount upward from the fiery blaze,

So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from Thee; And as the spangles in the sunny rays

Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in Thy praise.

A million torches lighted by Thy hand,

Wander unwearied through the blue abyss:
They own Thy power, accomplish Thy command,
All gay with life, all eloquent with bliss.
What shall we call them? Piles of crystal light-
A glorious company of golden streams-

Lamps of celestial ether burning bright—

Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams? But Thou to these art as the noon to night.

Yes! as a drop of water in the sea,

All this magnificence in Thee is lost :

What are ten thousand worlds compared to Thee? And what am I then? Heaven's unnumbered host, Though multiplied by myriads, and arrayed

In all the glory of sublimest thought,

Is but an atom in the balance weighed

Against Thy greatness-is a cipher brought
Against infinity! What am I then ?-Nought!

Nought! But the effluence of Thy light divine,
Pervading worlds, hath reached my bosom too;
Yes! in my spirit doth Thy spirit shine

As shines the sunbeam in a drop of dew.
Nought! but I live, and on hope's pinions fly
Eager towards Thy presence; for in Thee
I live, and breathe, and dwell; aspiring high,
Even to the throne of Thy divinity.

I am, O God! and surely Thou must be !

Thou art directing, guiding all, Thou art!
Direct my understanding then to Thee;
Control my spirit, guide my wandering heart:
Though but an atom 'midst immensity,

Still I am something fashioned by Thy hand!

I hold a middle rank 'twixt heaven and earth,

On the last verge of mortal being stand,

Close to the realms where angels have their birth, Just on the boundaries of the spirit-land!

The chain of being is complete in me;

In me is matter's last gradation lost, And the next step is spirit-Deity!

I can command the lightning, and am dust! A monarch and a slave; a worm, a god!

Whence came I here, and how? so marvellously Constructed and conceived unknown! this clod Lives surely through some higher energy; For from itself alone it could not be !

Creator, yes! Thy wisdom, and Thy word
Created me! Thou source of life and good!
Thou spirit of my spirit, and my Lord!

Thy light, Thy love, in their bright plenitude
Filled me with an immortal soul, to spring

O'er the abyss of death, and bade it wear The garments of eternal day, and wing

Its heavenly flight beyond this little sphere, Even to its source-to Thee-its Author there.

O thoughts ineffable! O visions blest!

Though worthless our conceptions all of Thee, Yet shall Thy shadowed image fill our breast, And waft its homage to Thy Deity.

God! thus alone my lowly thoughts can soar;
Thus seek Thy presence-Being wise and good!
'Midst Thy vast works admire, obey, adore;
And when the tongue is eloquent no more,

The soul shall speak in tears of gratitude.

THE ACCEPTED SACRIFICE.

"Give me thy heart."

WHAT shall we offer Thee, thou God of love!

Thou who didst build the heavens and mould the earth;

Thou who didst hang the sparkling stars above,

And called from darkness light and beauty forth!

From all the treasures of the earth and sea,

What shall we offer Thee?

Shall we present Thee gold and glittering gems,
Such as might wreathe the brows of royalty?
Shall we pluck roses from their slender stems,
Such as in summer's graceful bowers may be?
And shall we lay them at thy holy feet,

An offering fair and meet?

Or shall we deck Thy temple with the spoil
Of mighty cities, and rich palaces;
Strew flowers, fling on the altar wine and oil,

And pour around Thee mingling melodies
Of lutes and voices in soft harmony,

Breathing up praise to Thee?

Or shall we bring Thee treasures of the field,
When the rich autumn fills her flowing horn;
The russet fruits the loaded branches yield;
The clustering grapes, the golden waving corn,

The flowers of summer, the sweet buds of spring-
Oh! which, which shall we bring?

There is a voice which saith, "Oh, dearer far,
Than all the earthly treasures ye can give,
The pure aspirings of the spirit are,

When in the light of Truth it loves to live;"
Such be our offering at thy holy shrine,

Our hearts, our hearts be thine!