They were left as a proof of the loveliness

Of Adam and Eve's first home:

They are here as a type of the joys that bless

The just in the world to come—

The bright, bright flowers!

ANONYMOUS.

THE OMNIPOTENT.

GREAT God! whose essence pure, divine,

Doth comprehend immensity!

Past, present, future, all combine,

To form Thy vast eternity!

Thy works, magnificent and grand,

Bear the bright impress of Thy hand:
The earth, in all its rich attire ;

The heavens, with all their globes of fire;
All things that live, and breathe, and move,
Declare Thy wisdom, power, and love.

Nature, with one consenting tongue,
Bursts into harmony and song;
To Thee her cheerful pæans rise,
Great Former of the earth and skies!
But impious men refuse to hear,

To feel, to love, though Thou art near—

Madly reject the evidence,
Of thine eternal Providence ;

And strive to hurl the Almighty One
From off His high and holy throne.

What dost thou, Infidel, propose?
What is thy aim? Dost thou suppose
Thy captious reasonings can destroy
The truth that fills my heart with joy?
Vain sophist see what forms arise
Enrobed in light before thine eyes;
Mark how the vivid planets roll,
In order fix'd from pole to pole;
Led by the moon, whose silver beam
Trembles in beauty o'er the stream.

See the refulgent orb of day,
His rising glories wide display,
When he reveals the field, the wood,
Or flames across the ocean flood;
But when he sinks behind the hills,

And chaos-gloom creation fills,

Whose voice shall bid the monarch rise,
And rule again the azure skies?
His that awakes the ruddy morn,

Unveils the light, and worlds are born.

Great Source of light, and life, and love, For me Thou bidd'st the seasons move; For me the trees and flowers unfold Their rainbow-tints and fruits of gold;

The bearded corn adorns the field,
The streams their limpid waters yield;
The morning light, the evening shade,
For me alternate rise and fade:
Thou didst my soul o'erflow with joy ;—
O let Thy praise my lips employ.

My spirit would Thy wonders trace
Through yonder ether-realms of space;
Would fly on some bright cherub's wings
Beyond these transitory things.
Earth is too limited a sphere
For the immortal mind's career:
I pant, I long, to soar away,
To vaster worlds, to brighter day!
Oh, let me burst this frail abode,
And see Thy face, Creator, God!

All things in nature's wide domain,
The crystal vault-the verdant plain-
The sea-the storm's tempestuous rage,
My wondering raptured soul engage :
But chiefly man-majestic man!
Her noblest work! her master plan!
Who gave him birth? who framed his soul?
What does the universe control?

Fate chance? caprice-away with these, And give the Omnipotent the praise! -French of Asselan.

TO THE MORNING STAR.

THY smile of beauty, Star!

Brings gladness on the gloomy face of night—
Thou comest from afar,

Pale Mystery! so lonely and so bright,
A thing of dreams—a vision from on high-
A virgin spirit-light—a type of purity!

Star! nightly wanderest thou
Companionless along thy far, cold way :-
From Time's first breath till now,

On thou hast flitted like an ether-fay!

Where is the land from whence thou first arose ; And where the place of light to which thy pathway goes?

Pale Dawn's first messenger!

Thou prophet-sign of brightness yet to be!
Thou tellest Earth and Air

Of Light and Glory following after thee;

Of smiling Day 'mong wild, green woodlands sleeping; And God's own sun, o'er all, its tears of brightness weeping!

Sky sentinel! when first

The Nomad Patriarch saw thee from his hill

Upon his vision burst,

Thou wast as pure and fair as thou art still;

And changeless thou hast look'd on race, and name, And nation, lost since then-but Thou art yet the same!

Night's youngest child! fair gem!

The hoar astrologer o'er thee would cast

His glance, and to thy name

His own would join; then tremble when thou wast

In darkness; and rejoice when, like a bride,

Thou blush'd to Earth-and thus the dreamer dream'd and died!

Pure Star of Morning Love!

The daisy of the sky's blue plain art thou;
And thoughts of youth are wove

Round thee, as round the flowers that freshly blow In bushy dells, where thrush and blackbird singFlower-Star, the dreams of youth and heaven thou back dost bring!

Star of the Morn! for thee

The watcher by affection's couch doth wait;
'Tis thine the bliss to see

Of lovers fond who 'mid the broom have met;

Into the student's home thine eye doth beam;
Thou listenest to the words of many a troubled dream!

Lone thing!-yet not more lone

Than many a heart which gazeth upon thee,
With hopes all fled and gone—

Which loves not now, nor seeks beloved to be.