Where, among beetling rocks, the sea-gulls sweep, Their snowy plumage o'er the billowy deep:

In sights and sounds, all nature owns thy power,
In the dark tempest, or the Summer hour-

In the hoarse gale, that curls the Winter flood,
Or still repose of hermit solitude;—

All earth's deep woes, its passions, and its fears,
Bereav'd affection with its bitter tears,

All hope, and love, and memory are thine,
All that can raise, ennoble, or refine.

Spirit! still heavenward let thy notes aspire-
To the great source of beauty tune thy lyre;
Life-soothing power, that with our being blends,
Hymn thou His praise, from whom all good descends.

THE COURSE OF PROPHECY.

"But thou Bethlehem, Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of Judah, yet out of thee shall come he forth unto me that is to be ruler in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting."-MICAH, V. 2.

STILL the starry vault is bending,
O'er thee Bethlehem, as of yore,
And soft twilight dews descending,
Lull thee into rest once more.

Feelings, language ne'er may tell,
Fill the soul at sight of thee;

Pilgrim, let thy musings dwell,
On thy Lord's nativity.

When, high in the midnight heaven,
Shone the long-expected star,
Hovering where that babe was given,
'Hoped for, look'd for, from afar.

Yes! when first to Eden's bowers,
Sin brought sorrow, death, and woe,

And the darkly shaded hours,

Ceased in holy calm to flow,

Conscience-stain'd, and broken hearted,

When the first of human race,

From their glorious home departed,
To a sadder resting place-

Even then, remotely shining,

Came that beam through future years, Hush'd to rest their vain repining,

Comforted their bitter tears.

To the Patriarch, humbly dwelling,
On far Canaan's tented plain,
Came the promise,-dimly telling
Of a future Saviour's reign.

In the desert's shadowy gloom,
To the meek and lonely man,

See the glorious vision come,
And unfold the wonderous plan.

This, with courage high inspired him,
In proud Egypt's court to stand-
This, with courage high, inspired him,
Leading on the chosen band.

:

THE COURSE OF PROPHECY.

69

Turn to distant Araby,

Hear the shepherd chieftain's moan,

See him raise a suppliant eye,

And the world's Redeemer own.

Still, "beneath the vault of time,"
Rolls that music louder still,
Far and wide, through every clime,
Some faint note, the breezes fill.

Clearer, louder, rose the song,

From the royal minstrel's lyre, Thrill'd his harp's deep chords along, Fraught with all a Prophet's fire!

Rapt Isaiah swell'd the strain,
Telling of the man of woe,

All the mockery, all the pain,

That the Mighty One would know.

Prophets told of One betray'd,

Yet, "from everlasting" born;

How in Bethlehem's humble shade,

Would Messiah's crown be worn.

How to sightless orbs that hand
Would the light of day restore,—
How the lame again would stand,
And the deaf would hear once more.

Centuries pass'd-Ah! what that strain,
Rising upon the desert's gale,

That bids the faithful heart rejoice,
And turns the listener's cheek so pale?

Far in the wilderness, untir'd,

Arose the herald Prophet's cry,

"He comes!-He comes!-the long desired, Repent, the Day Star is on high!"

Hope of all time, the "Prince of Peace,"
Whose brow required no regal gem,
Who died to bring our woes release,

Was once the babe of Bethlehem !