And shall not Ifrael's fons exulting come,

Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home?
On David's throne fhall David's offspring reign,
And the dry bones be warm with life again.
Hark! white-robed crowds their deep hofannas
raife,

And the hoarfe flood repeats the found of praise;
Ten thousand harps attune the mystic fong,
Ten thoufand, thoufand faints the ftrain prolong;
"Worthy the Lamb! Omnipotent to fave,
Who died, who lives, triumphant o'er the grave."

BISHOP HEBER.

LVI.

A DREAM.

SLEPT; and in my fleep I dreamed
A hill before me lay,

Which, like a mighty barrier, feemed
To interrupt my way.

Its lofty fummit touched the skies,
Its base the fhades below;

And as I gazed, it seemed to rife,
And still more threatening grow.

An icy ftillness o'er me ftole,

And thrilled through every fenfe;
While doubt and horror filled my foul
With agony intense.

In fore diftrefs, I cried aloud
To God in fervent prayer;
And fuddenly I faw a cloud
Glide flowly through the air.

And out of it there came a drop,
Like blood of crimson hue,
Which fell upon the mountain top,
As foft as Hermon's dew.

And lo! the mountain passed away,
And vanished from my fight;
Like wreaths of mist at break of day,
Before the morning light.

Beyond it lay a fruitful land,

With rivers deep and wide,

Which rolled upon the golden fand
Their clear and crystal tide.

Befide them goodly trees, endued
With healing virtues, grew ;

And flowers with ravished eyes I viewed, every fcent and hue.

Of

And there his fheep a fhepherd fed,

In pastures green and fair,

And unto living fountains led,

With ever-watchful care.

Good Shepherd, well I know Thee now,

With ardent voice I cried;

Thou art my Lord and Saviour, Thou, The Lamb, the Crucified.

The mountain was the load of guilt,
Which on my confcience lay;
The drop, the blood of Jefus fpilt,
To wash my fins away.

My guilty foul, O Lord, renew
In that all-cleansing stream;
That thus the vifion may be true,
And not a fleeting dream.

LVII.

THE SEA OF GALILEE.

OW pleasant to me thy deep blue wave,

O Sea of Galilee !

For the glorious One who came to save
Hath often ftood by thee.

Fair are the lakes in the land I love,

Where the pine and heather grow;

But thou haft lovelinefs far above
What nature can bestow.

It is not that the wild Gazelle

Comes down to drink thy tide;

But He that was pierced to fave from hell
Oft wandered by thy fide.

It is not that the fig-tree grows,

And palms, in thy foft air;

But that Sharon's fair and bleeding rofe
Once spread her fragrance there.

Graceful around the mountains meet,
Thou calm repofing fea;

But ah! far more! the beautiful feet
Of Jefus walked o'er thee.

Those days are paft!-Bethfaida, where?
Chorazin, where art thou?

His tent the wild Arab pitches there,
The wild reeds fhade thy brow.

Tell me, ye mouldering fragments tell,
Was the Saviour's city here?
Lifted to Heaven, has it funk to hell,
With none to shed a tear?

Ah! would my flock from Thee might learn
How days of grace will flee;

How all an offered Chrift who spurn

Shall mourn at last like thee.

And was it befide this very fea

The new-rifen Saviour faid

Three times to Simon, "Lovest thou me

My lambs and fheep then feed."

O Saviour! gone to God's right hand,

Yet the fame Saviour still;

Graved on thy heart is this lovely strand,
And every fragrant hill.

?

Oh! give me Lord, by this facred wave,
Threefold thy love divine;

That I may feed, till I find my grave,
Thy flock, both thine and mine.

MCCHEYNE.*

LVIII.

ST. JOHN.

E hath gone to the place of his rest,
He is fafe in the home of his God;
And we who have loved him, forfaken,
oppreffed,

Submiffive would bow to the rod.
Though his accents can cheer us no more,
His love yet may speak from the grave;
And thus on the broad wing of Faith may we foar
To One who is mighty to fave.

Our friend and our father we heard,

On earth, paint the glories of Heaven ;But now the lone Church, like a wandering bird, To the home of the defert is driven.

Entranced, on his vifions we hung;

Our hearts and our hopes were above; For the words of Perfuafion fell foft from his tongue, And the foul of his teaching was Love.

* Written by the Sea of Galilee, July 16th, 1839.