The Clouds.

And when he had spoken these things, while they beheld, he was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight.-ACTS i. 9.

I CANNOT look above and see

Yon high-piled pillowy mass

Of evening clouds, so swimmingly,

In gold and purple pass,

And think not, Lord, how Thou wast seen

On Israel's desert way

Before them, in thy shadowy screen,

Pavilioned all the day!

Or, of those robes of gorgeous hue,

Which the Redeemer wore,

When, ravished from his followers' view,

Aloft his flight he bore;

When lifted, as on mighty wing,

He curtained his ascent,

And wrapped in clouds, went triumphing

Above the firmament.

Is it a trail of that same pall

Of many-colored dyes,

That high above, o'er mantling all,

Hangs midway down the skies

THE CLOUDS.

Or borders of those sweeping folds
Which shall be all unfurled
About the Saviour, when he holds
His judgment on the world?

For in like manner as he went,-
My soul, hast thou forgot?—
Shall be his terrible descent,
When man expecteth not!

Strength, Son of Man, against that hour,
Be to our spirits given,

When thou shalt come again with power,

Upon the clouds of heaven!

William Croswell.

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The Ascension.

While they beheld he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight.-ACTS 1. 9.

BRIGHT portals of the sky,

Embossed with sparkling stars;

Doors of eternity,

With diamantine bars,

Your arras rich uphold:

Loose all your bolts and springs,

Ope wide your leaves of gold,

That in your roofs may come the King of kings.

Scarfed in a rosy cloud,

He doth ascend the air,

Straight doth the moon Him shroud

With her resplendent hair;

The next encrystalled light

Submits to him its beams,

And He doth trace the height

Of that fair lamp which flames of beauty streams.

He towers those golden bounds

He did to sun bequeath ;

THE ASCENSION.

The higher wandering rounds

Are found his feet beneath:

The Milky Way comes near,

Heaven's axle seems to bend

Above each turning sphere,

That robed in glory Heaven's King may ascend.

Oh well-spring of this All!

Thy Father's image vive,

Word, that from nought did call

What is, doth reason live!

The soul's eternal food,

Earth's joy, delight of heaven;

All truth, love, beauty, good,

To Thee, to Thee, be praises ever given!

What was dismarshaled late

To this thy noble frame,

And lost the prime estate,

Hath re-obtained the same,

Is now more perfect seen;

Streams which diverted were

(And troubled, stayed unclean)

From their first source, by Thee home-turned are.

By Thee that blemish old,

Of Eden's leprous prince,
Which on his race took hold,
And him exiled from thence,

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THE ASCENSION.

Now put away is far;

With sword in ireful guise,

No cherub more shall bar
Poor man the entrance into Paradise.

Now each ethereal gate,

To Him hath opened been;
And glory's King in state
His palace enters in;
Now come is this High Priest
To the Most Holy Place,

Not without blood addressed.

With glory heaven, the earth to crown with grace.

Stars which all eyes were, late,

And did with wonder burn,

His name to celebrate

In flaming tongues, their turn.

Their orby crystals move

More active than before,

And, entheate* from above,

Their sovereign Prince laud, glorify, adore.

The choirs of happy souls,

Waked with that music sweet,

Whose descant care controls,

Their Lord in triumph meet

The spotless spirits of light,

His trophies do extol,

*Divinely inspired.