And shall not Ifrael's fons exulting come, Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home? And the hoarfe flood repeats the found of praise; BISHOP HEBER. LVI. A DREAM. SLEPT; and in my fleep I dreamed Which, like a mighty barrier, feemed Its lofty fummit touched the skies, And as I gazed, it seemed to rife, An icy ftillness o'er me ftole, And thrilled through every fenfe; In fore diftrefs, I cried aloud And out of it there came a drop, And lo! the mountain passed away, Beyond it lay a fruitful land, With rivers deep and wide, Which rolled upon the golden fand Befide them goodly trees, endued 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, My guilty foul, O Lord, renew 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 Fair are the lakes in the land I love, Where the pine and heather grow; But thou haft lovelinefs far above It is not that the wild Gazelle Comes down to drink thy tide; But He that was pierced to fave from hell It is not that the fig-tree grows, And palms, in thy foft air; But that Sharon's fair and bleeding rofe Graceful around the mountains meet, But ah! far more! the beautiful feet Those days are paft!-Bethfaida, where? His tent the wild Arab pitches there, Tell me, ye mouldering fragments tell, Ah! would my flock from Thee might learn 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, ? Oh! give me Lord, by this facred wave, That I may feed, till I find my grave, MCCHEYNE.* LVIII. ST. JOHN. E hath gone to the place of his rest, Submiffive would bow to the rod. 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. |