LL I feel, and hear, and see,
God of love, is full of Thee!
Earth with her ten thousand flowers-
Air with all its beams and showers
Ocean's infinite expanfe-
Heaven's refplendent countenance-
All around and all above,
Hath this record-" God is love."
Sounds among the vales and hills,
In the woods and by the rills,
Of the breeze and of the bird,
By the gentle fummer stirred ;-
All these fongs, beneath, above-
Have one burden-" God is love."
All the hopes and fears that start
From the fountain of the heart;
All the quiet blifs that lies
In our human fympathies ;-
Thefe are voices from above
Sweetly whispering-"God is love."
All I feel and hear and fee-
God of love, is full of Thee.
REV. J. R. TAYLOR.
HEY fin who tell us Love can die-
With life all other paffions fly,
All others are but vanity.
In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell;
Earthly these paffions of the Earth,
They perish where they have their birth.
But love is indeftructible
Its holy flame for ever burneth,
From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;
Too oft on Earth a troubled gueft,
At times deceived, at times oppreft,
It here is tried and purified,
Then hath in Heaven its perfect reft;
It foweth here with toil and care,
But the harveft time of Love is there.
Oh! when a Mother meets on high
The Babe fhe loft in infancy,
Hath fhe not then, for pains and fears,
The day of woe, the watchful night,
For all her forrow, all her tears,
An overpayment of delight?
Y Joy, my Life, my Crown!
My heart was meaning all the day,
Somewhat it fain would fay;
And ftill it runneth mutt'ring up and
down,
With only this, My Joy, my Life, my Crown!
Yet flight not these few words;
If truly faid, they may take part
Among the best in art.
The fineneffe which a hymne or pfalme affords,
Is, when the foul unto the lines accords.
He who craves all the minde,
And all the foul, and ftrength, and time,
If the words onely rhyme,
Juftly complains, that fomewhat is behinde
To make his verse, or write a hymne in kinde.
Whereas if th' heart be moved,
Although the verse be somewhat fcant,
God doth supplie the want.
As when th' heart fays (fighing to be approved)
Oh, could I love! and ftops; God writeth, Loved.
MAN, confider thoughtfully,
How we, the small fands, pafs away,
For thou art paffing too!
Gently and by degrees,
Thus thou too muft decrease;
Thy days and years how few!
We fall indeed quite lightly;
But daily ftill, and nightly,
We never cease to run.
And when the laft of all
Our little grains fhall fall,
JOW fwiftly glide life's tranfient scenes
"Like vernal leaves men flourish and decay."
Thus fung, in days of yore, the Chian
bard;
This maxim all have heard, but none regard.
None keep in mind this falutary truth,
Hope still survives, that flatters us in youth.
What fruitless fchemes amufe our blooming years!
The man in health, nor age, nor fickness fears;
Nay, youth's and life's contracted space forgot,
Scarce thinks that death will ever be his lot.
But thou thy mind's fair bias ftill obey,
Nor from the paths of virtue ever stray.
ET not the ftealing god of fleep furprise,
Nor creep in flumbers on thy weary
Ere every action of the former day,
Strictly thou doft and righteouflyfurvey.
With reverence at thy own tribunal stand,
And answer juftly to thy own demand,
Where have I been? In what have I tranfgreffed?
What good, or ill, has this day's life expreffed?
Where have I failed in what I ought to do?
In what to God, to man, or to myself I owe?
Inquire fevere; whate'er from first to laft,
From morning's dawn till evening's gloom has paft.
If evil were thy deeds, repenting mourn,
And let thy foul with ftrong remorse be torn.
If good, the good with peace of mind repay,
And to thy fecret felf with pleasure fay,
Rejoice, my heart, for all went well to-day."
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