which was sown in weakness shall be raised in power: that which was sown a poor, vile, natural body, shall be raised a spiritual body, like to the glorious body of Christ, according to the mighty working whereby He is able to subdue all things-yea, even death, and the grave, and destruction unto Himself. Has He not given us an earnest of this in |___the_vivid forms that spring on every hand, as we tread the garden and the grove? Shall we look upon this annual resurrection, and not give thanks unto Him for His great power? Shall we disdain to acknowledge the benevolence of that Divine skill which has taken of the common elements and spread them out into such lovely forms, and tinted them with such resplendent hues, and finished the delicate penciling with such exquisite art, and planted them in our daily, hourly path, breathing delicious fragrance; and, to crown all, bade us consider them how they grow, as an earnest of that tender care that He is pledged to take of us, His obdurate, unthankful children!

Lord of all power and might! all Thy other works do naturally praise Thee; but such is the darkness of man's heart, that it is only by the application of that spiritual gift purchased by the blood of Christ, that even Thy saints can be impelled to give due thanks unto Thee for Thy great love, while Thou clothest the grass that makes pleasant their footpath over this magnificent wreck of a glorious world!

THE WATERFALL.

FROM the fierce aspect of this river, throwing
His giant body o'er the steep rock's brink,
Back in astonishment and fear we shrink :

But, gradually a calmer look bestowing,

Flowers we espy beside the torrent growing;

Flowers that peep forth from many a cleft and chink,

THE WATERFALL.

And, from the whirlwind of his anger, drink

Hues ever fresh, in rocky fortress blowing :

They suck-from breath that, threatening to destroy,
Is more benignant than the dewy eve-

Beauty and life, and motions as of joy:

Nor doubt but He to whom yon pine-trees nod
Their heads in sign of worship, Nature's God,
These humbler adorations will receive..

109

WOOD WALK AND HYMN.

"How the green shadows close

Into a rich clear summer darkness round
A luxury of gloom! Scarce doth one ray,
Even when a soft wind parts the foliage, steal
O'er the bronzed pillars of these deep arcades ;
Or if it doth, 'tis with a mellowed hue
Of glow-worm coloured light."

BROODS there some spirit here ?

The Summer leaves hang silent as a cloud;
And o'er the pools, all still and darkly clear,
The wild wood-hyacinth with awe seems bowed;
And something of a tender cloistral gloom
Deepens the violet's bloom.

The very light that streams

Through the dim dewy veil of foliage round,
Comes tremulous with emerald-tinted gleams,
As if it knew the place were holy ground,
And would not startle, with too bright a burst,
Flowers, all divinely nursed.

Wakes there some spirit here?

A swift wind, fraught with change, comes rushing by;

And leaves and waters, in its wild career,
Shed forth sweet voices-each a mystery!
Surely some awful influence must pervade
These depths of trembling shade!

WOOD WALK AND HYMN.

III

Yes! lightly, softly move!

There is a Power, a Presence in the woods;
A viewless Being, that, with life and love,
Informs the reverential solitudes :

The rich air knows it, and the mossy sod-
Thou-Thou art here, my God!

And if with awe we tread

The minster-floor, beneath the storied pane,
And midst the mouldering banners of the dead,
Shall the green voiceful wild seem less Thy fane,
Where Thou alone hast built? where arch and roof
Are of Thy living woof?

The silence and the sound,

In the lone places, breathe alike of Thee;
The temple twilight of the gloom profound,
The dew-cup of the frail anemone,

The reed by every wandering whisper thrilled-
All, all with Thee are filled!

Oh purify mine eyes,

More and yet more, by love and lowly thought;
Thy presence, holiest One! to recognise

In these majestic aisles which Thou hast wrought,
And midst their sea-like murmurs teach mine ear
Ever Thy voice to hear!

And sanctify my heart

To meet the awful sweetness of that tone
With no faint thrill or self-accusing start,
But a deep joy the heavenly guest to own-

Joy, such as dwelt in Eden's glorious bowers,
Ere sin had dimmed the flowers.

Let me not know the change

O'er nature thrown by guilt!-the boding sky, The hollow leaf-sounds ominous and strange, The weight wherewith the dark tree-shadows lie! Father! oh, keep my footsteps pure and free, To walk the woods with Thee!

A DAY IN JUNE.

O GIFT of God! O perfect day,
Whereon shall no man work, but play;
Whereon it is enough for me,

Not to be doing, but to be!

Through every fibre of my brain,
Through every nerve, through every vein,
I feel the electric thrill, the touch
Of life, that almost seems too much.

I hear the wind among the trees
Playing celestial symphonies;

I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.

And over me unrolls on high
The splendid scenery of the sky,
Where, through a sapphire sea, the sun
Sails like a golden galleon,