While strong trees drenched by rain and spray.

Like standards in the battle fray,

Waved proudly to and fro;

Whose miles of sea-encircling arm
Subdued the land-storm to a calm,
Though swift that tempest beat;

Whose strong embraces grasped each ray
That o'er the sea had strength to stray,
And lent it triple heat.

The mountains, smitten by His power,
Split from their centre, as a tower
Cleft by His lightning spear;
The gorgeous planet-lights decay,
As the bright bubble fades away,
Collapsed in mid career.

The sea, whose many-coloured robe
Had draped the form of this fair globe
In lines of flowing grace,

Up-drawn in sheets of endless cloud

Forms a gigantic sky-spread shroud
Round Nature's shrunken face.

From myriad voices in one tongue,

From myriad harps in concord strung,
Pealing from arch to arch

Of Heaven's never-ending skies,

Those wondrous harmonies arise,

Creation's funeral march.

Those phantom forms which, side by side,

In cruel partnership allied,

To whom were given such powers,

Whose sweeping scythe or crushing hand

Destroyed in every age and land

Earth's sweetest, strongest flowers,

Grim Time and Death shrink back and fade

From risen mankind, now arrayed

In robes of Paradise;

Sad earth, their loved home, disappears,

And in the grave of buried spheres

They fall, no more to rise.

Another King usurps their place;

Blooming and bright his youthful face

Massive, yet gently sweet;

No hour-glass rests upon his palm,
He bears no scythe upon his arm,
No knells his coming greet.

Beneath his strong life-giving sway,
Foliage and blossoms ne'er decay,
There is no passing by;

Beauty and strength new vigour gain,
Touched by his hand; it is the reign
Of Immortality.

No vision this, though some may deem
God's judgment-day an idle dream,
And laugh the truth to scorn;

Watch, watch, as soldiers in the field

Watch always, grasping sword and shield,

And wait that awful morn.

CONCLUDING STANZAS.

Y strains are sung; content I rest
If such as they in any breast

M

Stirrings of good inspire,

And if God make the feeble strong,
Perchance this hand, in nobler song
Shall strike the well-strung lyre.

If fancy's touch, or feeling's sway
Have bidden for a single day
The gloomy thoughts depart;
If higher reasonings have fired
The fading embers nigh expired
Of hope in human heart;

If one lone spirit has been cheered,
Affliction to one mind endeared,
So hard and needless thought;

If smiles have robbed one cheek of tears, This load of many painful years

Has not been borne for nought.

If aught within this page redound
To God's high glory, and its sound
Be heard beyond the day,

It is because some higher power

Has deigned to lend me in the hour

The worthy word to say.

Vouchsafe to grant the earnest prayer,
That the frail life thou deign st to spare
From often-threatened doom

May through its residue of days
Proclaim Thy glory, till its lays

Are silenced in the tomb.

May the last words that from me flow

Be radiant as the sunset glow,

That fading sinks to rest;

May those inspiring hopes attend

That gather round a good man's end,

And make his parting blest.