III.

And yet the mountain's side is bare, And parch'd with summer's heat, While many a sheep that wanders there Seems languidly to bleat.

IV.

The little stream alone looks glad,

Save here and there a flower Upon its brink-all else is sad, And thirsting for a shower.

Ah! why, since waters glide so near,

And so unceasing glide,

Should all around look spent and sere
Upon the mountain's side?

VI.

It is because the new-born stream

Too swiftly passes by,

While still descends the burning beam

Unsparing from the sky.

VII.

It seems as 'twere too full of mirth

To pause upon its way,

Or think of aught beside on earth
Except itself at play.

VIII.

But see, where yonder meadows bloom,
And all looks fresh and green,

And many a lark with soaring plume
Sings in the blue serene :

IX.

The stream is there far wider grown,
And flows so smooth and still,

And deep withal, t'were hardly known
To be the mountain rill.

X.

Yet 'tis the same, and yonder vale

So smiles on either side;

Because with glad though whispering tale Its waters slowly glide.

XI.

And farther than the eye can reach

It onward calmly flows;

And even to the ocean beach

It blesses as it goes.

XII.

Nor ceases there-ah! no; for now,
With music deep and loud,
As o'er it stately vessels plough,
With pennons waving proud ;-

XIII.

It sings its everlasting song

Of praise to God on high,
And scatters good untold among
The nations far and nigh.-

XIV.

An emblem here methinks is seen By fancy's dreamy gaze,

Of something higher far, I ween-

The Christian's life of praise.

XV.

When first the joyful sound is heard

Of heaven's all-pardoning grace,

Through Calvary's blood, and that glad word The soul can firm embrace,

XVI.

Embrace as would the seaman wrecked

Cling to the solid rock,

While waves their foaming heads erect,

And pealing thunders shock,

XVII.

The sudden, thrilling ecstacy

Is like the new-born rill,

When, hastening down the mountain high,

It cannot yet be still.

XVIII.

New hopes are felt, new scenes descried,

Still bright as faith is strong,

Till oft the bosom cannot hide

Its joy, but vents in song.

I

XIX.

But human hearts were never made

For long tumultuous gladness;

They need, like flowers, the peaceful shade, Or joy gives place to sadness.

XX.

And He who formed them too designed

The holy brotherhood

Their highest happiness should find

In calmly doing good.

XXI.

Peace, peace was the sublime bequest

The dying Saviour made;

And peace would ever make her nest
Deep in the sheltered glade.

XXII.

Or, like the river in the vale
So calm for many a mile,
She loves to tell her grateful tale,
And do her work the while.