Beneath its glowing arch,
Along the hallowed ground,
I see cherubic armies march,
A camp of fire around.

I hear at morn and even,

At noon and midnight hour, The choral harmonies of heaven Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower.

Then, then I feel that He,
Remembered or forgot,

The Lord, is never far from me,
Though I perceive Him not.

In darkness as in light,

Hidden alike from view,

I sleep, I wake, within His sight, Who looks existence through.

All that I am, have been,

All that I yet may be,

He sees at once, as He hath seen, And shall forever see.

* * * * *

"Forever with the Lord!”

Father, if 't is Thy will,

The promise of that faithful word, Even here to me fulfil !

Shall rend the veil in twain,

By death I shall escape from death,
And life eternal gain.

THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.

A poor wayfaring man of grief
Hath often cross'd me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief,
That I could never answer, “Nay.”
I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came,
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love, I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered; not a word he spake ;
Just perishing for want of bread;

I gave him all; he bless'd it, brake,
And ate; but gave me part again;
Mine was an angel's portion then ;
For, while I fed with eager haste,
That crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him, where a fountain burst

Clear from the rock; his strength was gone; The heedless water mock'd his thirst,

He heard it, saw it hurrying on:

I ran to raise the sufferer up;

Thrice from the stream he drain'd my cup, Dipt, and return'd it running o'er;

I drank, and never thirsted more.

'T was night; the floods were out; it blew A winter hurricane aloof;

I heard his voice abroad, and flew

To bid him welcome to my roof;

I warm'd, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest,
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seem'd
In Eden's garden while I dream'd.

Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,
I found him by the highway-side :
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied

Wine, oil, refreshment; he was heal'd:
I had myself a wound conceal'd;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In prison I saw him next, condemn'd

To meet a traitor's doom at morn : The tide of lying tongues I stemm'd

And honor'd him 'midst shame and scorn; My friendship's utmost zeal to try,

He ask'd if I for him would die ;

The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill;

But the free spirit cried, "I will.”

Then in a moment to my view
The Stranger darted from disguise;
The tokens in His hands I knew,

My Saviour stood before mine eyes!
He spake ; and my poor name He named :
Of Me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not; thou didst them unto Me.”

SONGS OF PRAISE THE ANGELS SANG.

Songs of praise the angels sang,
Heaven with hallelujahs rang,
When Jehovah's work begun,
When He spake and it was done.

Songs of praise awoke the morn,
When the Prince of Peace was born;
Songs of praise arose when He
Captive led captivity.

Heaven and earth must pass away, Songs of praise shall crown that day; God will make new heavens, new earth, Songs of praise shall hail their birth.

And can man alone be dumb,
Till that glorious kingdom come?
No; the church delights to raise
Psalms and hymns and songs of praise.

Saints below, with heart and voice,
Still in songs of praise rejoice,
Learning here, by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above.

Borne upon their latest breath,
Songs of praise shall conquer death;

Then, amidst eternal joy,

Songs of praise their powers employ.

66

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

1772-1834.

FROM HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE

OF CHAMOUNI."

Motionless torrents! silent cataracts!

Who made you glorious as the gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers

Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet ?— God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!

God! sing ye meadow streams with gladsome voice!

Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds!

And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,

And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!