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His breath gives warmth to summer days;

His billows cool the air;

In heaven bears witness of his ways,

The rainbow bright and fair.

And meadows, mountains, fields, and woods,

Display his goodness round:
And all the shores of mighty floods

With his great name resound.
To him the nightingale, at dark,

Sings gladly ;-let us join,

And raise, in concert with the lark,

A melody divine.

Our fields of late were hard and white

Earth's breast there seemed no glow in ;
But God looks down in warmth and light-
Ice melts, and corn is growing:
From hives the honey tricles out;
Lambs leap by flowing rills;
In all the vineyards round about,
The grape with juices fills.

From labouring brows down trickle drops,
In vineyard and in field;

We toil, and trust that autumn's crops
Shall ample riches yield.

Without a fear we strew the seed,

And yield the birds their due; Help every soul that suffers need, And bid him gladden too.

In love for us the Lord of all
Has made the earth so fair;
For us he decks the earthly ball
Withprecious fruits and rare.
Therefore, let us be givers all,
Diffuse as we receive,

Be like the Lord, the bountiful,
And like our father live.

But he who but his harvest takes
And scorns the blooming hours,
Forgets that God's good sunshine wakes
A thousand lovely flowers.
The blue weeds scattered o'er the lea,
God's hand hath planted there;
The reaper's dance he loves to see,
When joy dispels their care.

And friendship from the Lord descends;
He gives the glowing heart;

He loves the sight when faithful friends
Their joys and sorrows part.

He smiles when wedded love is blest
With true paternal bliss ;

And when the infant at the breast

Receives the mother's kiss.

THANKSGIVING SONG.

With joy he sees our children fair
Like flowers around us growing,
The father's brow releas'd from care
With secret bliss is glowing;

Or when the youth, with studious lore
Enriches well his mind,

Or the poet's wings would upward soar,
And leave the earth behind.

As mothers show their little ones
The thousand blooms of spring,
God shows us all his stars and suns
In heaven's expanded ring.
We view the wonders of his hand
From this low, earthly ball,
And know that our dear fatherland
Lies far beyond them all.

Care, on our life's swift-flowing stream,
Floats like a foamy wreath;
Our days are but a morning dream,

A slumber short is death.

We sink, contented, in the dust-
The Lord will keep us all-

We give the worms their due, and trust
That God for us will call.

Then let us all together raise,
Long as we here remain,

A

song

of praise, and children's lays Shall mingle in the strain.

And when to know our children pray

The name of Him above,

O clasp them to your hearts and say,
Our Father's name is love.

175

THE DAYS OF CREATION.

FROM THE GERMAN OF KRUMMACHER.

ALL dead and silent was the earth,
In deepest night it lay,

The Eternal spoke Creation's word,
And called to being, Day.

Chor. It streamed from on high,
All reddening and bright,

And angels' songs welcom'd
The new-born light.

God spake the murmuring waters fled,
They left their deep repose,

Wide over-arching heaven's blue vault
The firmament arose.

Chor. Now sparkles above
Heaven's glorious blue,

It sends to the earth

The light and the dew.

God spake he bade the waves divide;
The earth uprears her head;

From hill, from rock, the gushing streams
In bubbling torrents spread.
Chor. The earth rested quiet,
And, poised in the air,

In heaven's blue bosom
Lay naked and bare.

God spake the hills and plains put on
Their robe of freshest green;
Dark forests in the valleys wave,

And budding trees are seen.

Chor. The word of his breath

Clothes the forest with leaves,

The high gift of beauty

The spring-tide receives.

THE DAYS OF CREATION.

God spake and on the new-dress'd earth
Soft smiled the glowing Sun,
Then full of joy he sprung aloft,
His heavenly course to run.
Chor. Loud shouted the stars
As they shone in the sky,
The moon with mild aspect
Ascended on high.

God spake the waters teem with life,
The tenants of the floods,
The many-colour'd winged birds
Dart quickly thro' the woods.
Chor. High rushes the eagle
On fiery wings,

Low hid in the valley

The nightingale sings.

God spake the lion, steer, and horse
Spring from the moisten'd clay;
While round the breast of mother earth
Bees hum, and lambkins play.

Chor. They give life to the mountain,
They swarm on the plain,

But their eyes fix'd on earth
Must for ever remain.

God spake he look'd on earth and heaven

With mild and gracious eye: In his own image man he made,

And gave him dignity.

Chor. He springs from the dust,
The Lord of the earth,

The chorus of heaven

Exult at his birth.

And now Creation's work was ended,

Man raised his head, he spoke :

The day of rest by God ordained,

177

The Sabbath morning broke. Penny Magazine.

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