LIEGE.

WHAT SHALL I SAY?-ISAIAH XXXVIII. 15.

IN the hour when thoughts arise,
Toss the soul, and cloud the eyes;
I am tempted, as forgot,
Murmur at my lowly lot:
But a better thought arising,
Soon my unbelief despising,
I bid hence all doubt away-
'Tis His hand-what shall I say?

Shall I murmur, if the storm

Bow and toss the still lake's form;
Or when rots the stagnant air,
Thunders roll and lightnings glare;
What the elements' commotion,
Heavings rude of earth or ocean,
To the hushed and poisonous breath
Of the ministers of death?

In a land where Satan reigns, Weaving nets and forging chains, Where, who roam the fated ground, Sink, in sin's embraces bound;

If, by judgment-terrors shaken,

From the dear-bought dreams awaken,
Rescued, ere the tyrant slay-
Tho' in fear-what shall I say?

Shall I say, it had been kind,
Weak, and poor, and lame, and blind,
To have left me on the brink,
Reckless, in the death-pit sink ;
If so deep the spell-bound slumber,
If so close the chains that cumber,
O how fearful was thy state-
And His mercy, O how great!

Look around thee, where the earth Brings her myriads fore the eye, Trouble claims them at their birth, And pursues them, till they die. True, there blows the fragrant bower, But the frowns of tempests lower, And the wreaths of richest bloom Live, to wither on the tomb.

Ask the gay and busy throng,

Where is reared their bishop's throne-
Where, in sculptured glory strong,
Stands Saint Lambert's shrine of stone?
Gone, the mitred crest of power-
Gone, each pinnacle and tower—
Blank, where once the altar stood,
And the hall is bathed in blood!

Why then mourn, since tempests ride
On the prince's lordly crest-
Roaming o'er the mountain's side,
Nestling in the valley's breast;
If they bring a loving token

Of the peace my Lord hath spoken,
I will place them, as a gem

In a monarch's diadem.

'Tis His hand that wields the rod -
'Tis the chastening of my God-
And I hear His voice of love
Whisper from the realms above:
Then let storms awhile assail me,
His support can never fail me;
I bid hence all doubt away—
'Tis his hand; What shall I say?

A RETROSPECT.

ON EARTH PEACE.-LUKE II. 14.

THE earth is ill at rest!

And man will not obeyThe hidden waves, that heave his breast, Dash in his eye their spray

Yet twice ten centuries have flung

Their shadows back, since peace was sung.

Long hath her silken wing
Borne here the willing Dove,

Bearing the olive from her King,

With many a word of love

And yet the plunging earth nor knows,
Nor cares to seek the lost repose!

I asked the fields of France,
If peace were nestled there-

There was a hum and whirling dance,
As of insects in the air;

It spake of restlessness alone

The way of peace she hath not known!'

I roam'd Italia's plains,
Where the full vine-stock hung

Its clustering wealth o'er broken fanes,
By many a poet sung;

There peace was wrought by wizard-spell—
But 'twas the lying peace of hell!

All, all around was strange

To souls that sighed for rest!
In vain I searched the Alpine range,
Of Liberty the nest :

Woes me! the only peace she knows
Is colder than her mountain-snows!

Where'er, where'er I turn,

The marks of sin deform;

Wild flames within earth's bosom burn,
Without, the raging storm;

Her joy, as when demoniacs rave:
Her calm, the stillness of the grave!

R