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And but sleeps till the sunshine of Heaven has
unchain's it, To water that Eden where first was its source! Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb,
In life's happy morning, hath hid from our eyes, Ere Sin threw a blight o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profaned what was born for the skies.
II. Mourn not for her, the young Bride of the Vale, *
Our gayest and loveliest, lost to us now, Ere life's early lustre had time to grow pale, And the garland of Love was yet fresh on her
brow! Oh! then was her moment, dear spirit, for flying From this gloomy world, while its gloom was And the wild hymns she warbled so sweetly, in
* This second verse, which I wrote long after the first, alludes to the fate of a very lovely and amiable girl, the daughter of the late Colonel Bainbrigge, who was married in Ashbourne church, October 31, 1815, and died of a fever in a few weeks after : the sound of her marriage-bells seemed scarcely out of our ears when we heard of her death. During her last delirium she sung several hymns, in a voice even clearer and sweeter than usual, and among them were some from the present collection (particularly, " There's nothing
ght but Heaven" which this very interesting girl had often heard during the summer.
dying, Were echoed in Heaven by lips like her own! Weep not for her,-in her spring-time she flew To that land where the wings of the soul are
unfurld, And now, like a star beyond evening's cold dew,
Looks radiantly down on the tears of this world.
THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SHRINE.
* Pii orant tacitè,
Or when the stillness of the sea,
V. I'll read thy anger in the rack That clouds awhile the day-beam's track; Thy mercy in the azure hue Of sunny brightness breaking through!
VI. There's nothing bright, above, below, From flowers that bloom to stars that glow, But in its light my soul can see Some feature of thy Deity!
There's nothing dark, below, above,
SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL.
“ And Miriam, the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her hand; and all the women went out after her, with timbrels and with dances.”—Exod. xv. 20.
* I have so altered the character of this air, which is from the beginning of one of Avison's old-fashioned concertos, that, without this acknowledgment, it could hardly, I think, be recognized.
How vain was their boasting!—The LORD hath but
spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. Sound the loud Timbrel o’er Egypt's dark sea! JEHOVAH has triumph'd,
-his people are free.
his breath was our sword! Who shall return to tell Egypt the story
Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride? For the LORD hath look'd out from his pillar of
glory,* And all her brave thousandsare dash'd in the tide. Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah has triumphd,-his people are free.
* “ And it came to pass, that, in the morning watch, the Lord looked unto the host of the Egyptians, through the pillar of fire and of the cloud, and troubled the host of the Egyptians.”—Exod. xiv. 24.