Thus shall the Saviour's name

Thy loftiest tribute claim,

And where thy archives dwell, with fair perfections shine.

"And they came to Jericho ; and as he went out of Jericho with his disciples, and a great number of people, blind Bartimeus, the son of Timeus, sat by the high-way side begging."-MARK x. 46.

THE LANDSCAPE PAINTER.

A POET picturising all he sees,

With master skill!

I see him as he drinks the evening breeze
On yonder hill.

Look how his tablets shine! in fair array,
His thoughts steal on ;

His soul now muses on the break of day,
And heaven's clear sun.

He marks the silver moon's majestic mein—
The planets bright,

Which walking in her train, with glittering sheen
Adorn the night.

Look on that spangled firmament, the seat
Of worlds sublime;

To poet's mind like his, 'tis passing sweet

Aloft to climb

THE LANDSCAPE PAINTER.

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Where contemplation lingers, to survey,
The starry host,

Amid the splendours of their proud array,
In wonder lost.

Spring, summer, autumn, winter in their course,
Thy soul could teach;

Whilst a still voice from their eternal Source,
Thine ear could reach.

Hail to the bright-winged hours that cross his path
In nature's home;

He sings of blessings breathing gentle breath,
Where poets roam.—

Like that fair mother of a royal line,
Of constant truth,

Whose lineaments in sacred scripture shine,
And speak her ruth,

Amid the reapers, where the golden grain
Rich promise gives,

Behold a maiden fairest of the train,
Whose lap receives

A rich, abundant gleaning for the lord
Of that good land,

Has look'd with favour on her, and his word
Of kind command,

Has fill'd her earthly storehouse ;-like His smile
Beaming with love,

That bids us each bereavement reconcile,

Which heaven above,

In its bright counsels orders ;-as the way
Desert and lone,

That pilgrims traverse when they seek the day,
Leads to a throne.

Creation fill'd thy spirit with her strains,
Well toned and clear;

For music 'mid her boundless empire reigns,
To poets dear,

And to the christian welcome-whilst his tongue,
His vital breath

Delights that God to mention in his song,

Who conquers death.

"Thou didst cleave the fountain and the flood: thou driedst up mighty rivers. The day is thine, the night also is thine: thou hast prepared the light and the sun. Thou hast set all the borders of the earth; thou hast made summer and winter."-PSALM 1xxiv. 15-17.

THE SACRED FABULIST.

THOU enigmatic painter! could it be

That skill like thine,

Might bring to light the soul's deep mystery,
And themes divine ?—

Truth rests beneath dark problems—and her seat
At yon deep well-head lies-her lov'd retreat.

THE SACRED FABULIST.

Thou couldst delineate the human breast,
And picture well,

The enemies that hold with large unrest,

Her citadel:

Rebellion and the dark allies of sin

Keep sure possession of the posts within.

Thou couldst portray the pitfalls and the snares
Along life's road,

The gay enchantments and the busy cares

That lead from God:

:

Thou wouldst erect new way-marks to express

The turnings on the road of happiness.

The mask of folly and each devious way

Of passion's child,—

How vanity goes forth in proud array,
By self beguiled;-

Earth and her thousand woes, thy graphic pen
Outlined in truth, before the gaze of men.

The church in her vicissitudes, thy gaze

Could well descry;

Her steps in flowery and in thorny ways,

With lessons high,

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Thy faithful pencil paints to teach the observant eye.

The candle of the soul doth brightly shine,
When kindled by a spark of light divine,

And trimm'd with care:

Its flame thy mind could trace,

When quickened by that grace

Which bids our spirits see how heavenly things are fair.

Thy emblems of the heart
May well impart

Truth in the drapery of fiction, drest ;
Whilst to the eye and ear,

Each well-drawn character

Has power its mystic tale in fable, to express.

Then teach us yet again!

And let each melting strain
Its music trill ;

For parables like thine,

With wisdom's signet shine,

And on our senseless souls, their hallowed grace distil.

Heaven and her worlds of liberty and love

Thine eye could see;

Throughout her universe of light to rove
Had charms for thee;

And many a spirit captured at thy will,

Has drank its draught of thought at Zion's holy hill.

"Then said he unto me, Son of man, hast thou seen what the ancients of the house of Israel do in the dark, every man in the chambers of his imagery?"-EZEK. viii. 12.

JOHN THE BAPTIST.

BRIGHT herald of the dawn! thy cheering ray
Poured on the gloom:

'Twas thine to usher in immortal day

That gilds the tomb.