PARAPHRASE OF PSALM I.

How blest the upright man, whose feet

The sinner's wiles ne'er turned aside, Who ne'er would share the scorner's seat, Nor in the haunts of guilt abide!

The law of God his constant theme,

Through every waking hour of night; His study, from the day's first beam To the last ray of fading light.

He shall be like the tree, whose roots
Are by refreshing waters fed,
While, burdened with their timely fruits,
Around the bending branches spread.

He who with beauty clothes the tree,

His faithful servant, too, shall bless, Shall keep his path from danger free,

And crown each effort with success.

Not such the hardened sinner's doom,-
As chaff before the sweeping wind
Shall he to his untimely tomb

Be swept-nor leave his trace behind;

When the last trump the dead shall wake,
Pale, shrinking from his Maker's face,

Shall hear the word that bids him take,
Far from the blest, his dismal place.

The God who hates the sinner's ways,

And blights them in his righteous wrath,

The pious man with love surveys,

And with rich blessings crowns his path.

THE ATHEIST.

THERE is no God,-the fool in secret said;

There is no God that rules on earth or sky;
Tear off the band that folds the wretched head,
That God may burst upon his faithless eye.
Is there no God?-the stars in myriads spread,
If he look up, the blasphemy deny,
Whilst his own features, in the mirror read,
Reflect the image of Divinity.

Is there no God?-the silver stream that flows,

The air he breathes, the ground he treads, the trees, The flowers, the grass, the sands, each wind that blows, All speak of God; throughout one voice agrees,

And eloquent his dread existence shows:

Blind to thyself, ah! see Him, fool, in these.

TRANSLATION OF THE LATIN HYMN, "DIES IRE."

O DAY of wrath! that dreadful day,
When earth in dust shall pass away!

When dread shall strike the sinner dumb,

When the Almighty Judge shall come,

Every hidden sin to sum!

When the wondrous trumpets' tone,
Ringing through each cavern lone,
Calls the dead before the Throne-
When cruel Death himself shall die,
And, freed from dark mortality,
The creature to his Judge reply:

What shall THEN that creature say?
What power shall be the sinner's stay,
When the just are in dismay?

Lord of all power and majesty,

Pure fountain of all piety,
Save us when we cry to thee!

O Thou, whose vengeance waits on sin,
Cleanse our souls from guilt within,
Ere the day of wrath begin!

With suppliant heart and bended knee,
Low stooping in the dust to Thee,
Lord! save us in extremity!

"That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay-
Be Thou the trembling sinner's stay,
When heaven and earth shall pass away!"

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

STAR of the east, whose beacon-light
A gleam on Bethlehem threw,
And thither by that wondrous sight
Arabia's sages drew;

On thee in thought we love to gaze
In western climes afar,

And think on thy mysterious rays,
Thou lovely eastern star!

Fair is the star of eve that sheds
Her light betokening rest;
And fair the morning star that leads
The day in glory drest:

But still more fair thy form arose,
And lovelier to behold,

Which of a more serene repose,
A brighter glory told.

Hail thou, whose silvery radiance led
Those Magian chiefs to bring

Their choicest gifts, in worship spread
Before Judæa's King:

That glorious Sun, whose harbinger
Thy light was made to shine,

And like the pillared flame to bear
Aloft salvation's sign!

Hail thou, appointed to adorn

The rising King of heaven,
The promised Child to Judah born,
The Son to Israel given :

In whom the peaceful empire sealed,
Should more and more increase;
In Him, the mighty God revealed,
In Him, the Prince of Peace!

So on thy beacon-light we gaze

In western climes afar,

And note thy heaven-directed rays,

Thou lovely eastern star :
With praise to Him, who in the sky
Thy wondrous cresset hung,
Prompt to inform the observing eye,
Apart from speech or tongue:

Him who permits to all to see

The light their stations need;

Who chose the star-versed sage by thee,

Star of the east, to lead;

Who made by shepherd swains at night
The angel's voice be heard;

And gives to us his Scriptures' light,
His own recording word.

COMMUNION OF SAINTS.

"THE Church triumphant,"-animating word, Waking the mind to visions of the skies, Touching each string of the soul's harmonies, Like to the trumpet John in Patmos heard.

"The Church triumphant." In its golden zone

What throng of glorious things assembled shine,
Bright, holy, pure, celestial, and divine,

Such as no thought hath reached, nor heart hath known!

A city where the sun makes not the day,

But God Himself, the everlasting light;

Where comes no even, nor the shades of night, And where the golden hours pass not away.

Angels are there, and saints, and, happy thought!

Those whom we loved, and walked with heart to heart,
Still in communion, for death cannot part-

One bond encircles all-the Blood that bought.

Communion of the saints, in earth and heaven;
In this communion may we ever rest,

Till we shall be triumphant too, and blest
In a reunion never to be riven.

LOVE TO OUR ENEMIES.

WHEN on the fragrant sandal tree
The woodinan's axe descends,
And she who bloomed so beauteously
Beneath the keen stroke bends,

E'en on the edge that wrought her death,
Dying she breathes her sweetest breath,

As if betokening in her fall

Peace to her foes, and love to all.

How hardly man this lesson learns,

To smile, and bless the hand that spurns;

To see the blow, to feel the pain,

But render only love again.