"Tis "I will draw and thou shalt run,

"Nor vainly shall my cross be pleading:

"My grace gives thee a royal throne,

"Before the earth receiv'd its form,

"I gave myself for thy redeeming ; "And I, alone, have borne the storm,

"Whose rage

with mercy still was teeming.

"I love the sinner, hate the sin,

"And scourge him oft whom I am turning;

"And when, at last, I bring him in,

""Tis as a brand escap'd the burning."

XXI.

Air-" From the last hill that looks."

In a vision I saw a new city come down,

Whose bright walls were of jasper as crystal they shone; And her name was the BRIDE.-Her celestial birth

Had endow'd her with glory, perfection and worth.

And I heard a sweet voice out of heaven, proclaim "That her temple was God! and her light was the Lamb! "That the nations preserv'd, should exult in the beam,

Which, eternally, from her pure altars, should stream."

As I listen'd, the sound of a concert arose; "Alleluia" its swell," Alleluia" its close;

"Alleluia, Amen! to the Star of her choice!

"Who as Lord God Omnipotent reigneth-rejoice!"

Then-"All worthy the Lamb!" the full chorus replied;66 Come, behold the rich mercies bestow'd on the Bride. "For the ransom'd, alone! is reserv'd the sweet strain "Of ALL WORTHY THE LAMB!' WHO FOR EVER WILL "REIGN!"

XXII.

May this right hand be wither'd for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe.

BYRON-22 Melody.*

Air-" We sat down and wept by the waters."

1.

"Tis useless to sit down in sorrow,

And weep our few moments away;
"Twere better, with fond hope, to borrow
A sun-beam from some future day:
Expecting the promis'd to-morrow:

The certain, the shadowless day.

* Query.-In whose service is the harp of the Author of Don Juan, &c. strung?

2.

When David was toss'd by the billow
Which rage and keen jealousy rolled,
He hung not his harp on the willow,
But, in the lone cavern, extolled
The Mercy that guarded his pillow,
And sat to refine him as gold.

XXIII.

Air-" The Assyrian came down."

THE warriors of Chittim (g) are valiant and bold;
With frontlets of steel, they attack thy strong hold,
Oh! Tyrus, and follow the Thunderer's crest,(b)
Where fiercely the battle, in fury, has prest.

In vain! are you fix'd on a rock in the sea;

In vain! you prepare the red bucklers, that flee
Like shells thro' the air, and, the burning dust spread,(i)
O'er the flesh of your foe, who a moment may dread:

He, turning in vengeance, more fiercely will push,
Your tottering walls, with the battle's rude rush;
And, living, impale on Philistia's coast,

The glory and pride of your struggling host.()

Your fate is decreed! And, tho' long you withstand
Macedonia's contest, you'll fall by her hand.

Then howl, ships of Tarshish! for see where your tower, The hero, has gain'd, in the tide of his power.

Now where are your divers, your vessels of fire?

Your wisdom, that chain'd the bright god of the lyre?(k) Not Hercules' strength can avert a decree,

Jehovah, in council, has destin'd to be.

Adieu! to your merchants, your riches, your pride; Farewell! to your bulwarks that sprung from the tide; Farewell! to your princes, in vestures of gold;

Howl, people of Tarshish! your city was sold. (1)