Imatges de pÓgina
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par BACRED SONGS have proved a solace to the

sorrowful, and a comfort to the weary, ‘in the house of their pilgrimage ;' but there are few modern compositions worthy of the

Religion seems a theme too vast for the highest poetic inspiration, apart from the divine; hence the greatest masters of modern verse have in vain essayed the Sacred Lyre. With a few remarkable exceptions, the most distinguished British poets have failed while attempting spiritual themes, or have succeeded only in producing one or two pieces worthy of their Muse. Often in proportion to the fervour of the writer, or the earnestness of his sentiments, has his poetry been lacking in the essential elements of strength and power. In this little work an attempt has been madeand the Editor hopes, with some measure of success - to present, in a convenient and portable form, the gems of British Sacred Minstrelsy. The Editor has culled from a wide field; and, in making his selections, he has scrupulously avoided sacrificing poetry for sentiment, or adopting

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Perry, Frederick J., 239 Taylor, Bayard,
Pope, Alexander,

7 Thomson, James,

Trench, R. C.,
Raffles, T., D.D., LLD., 141 Tupper, Martin F.,
Reid, William, .

233
Rogers, Henry,

180 Vedder, David,
Scott, Sir Walter,

67 | Wardlaw, Ralph, D.D.,
Sillery, Charles Doyne, 131 Watts, Alaric A., .
Simpson, Jane C., . 252 Watts, Isaac, D.D.,
Sinclair, William, 196 Weir, Daniel,
Small, James G., 257 Wesley, Charles,
Southey, Robert,

76 White, Henry Kirke,
Stirling, William,. 275 Wilson, John,
Stowell, Hugh, . 157 Wordsworth, William,
Swain, Charles,

161
Symington, Andrew J., 235 Young, Andrew,

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Index

NŪex to First Lines.

A heavenly voice is falling,
Ah! many a saddening sight we see,
Ah! the heavens are too high,
Alway on Earth ? Oh no!
Art thou weary of the struggle?
Awake, my soul, and with the sun,
Awake, my soul ! lift up thine eyes,
Awake, sweet harp of Judah, wake, .

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Be glad, ye heavens, thou earth rejoice, .
Begin, my soul, the exalted lay,
Behold the mountain of the Lord,
Behold, when breathing love divine, .
Bind ye the cypress, fair daughters of Sion,

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Blinded in youth by Satan's arts,
Bound upon the accursed tree,
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Bring forth the dead,
Brother, thou art gone before us,
By cool Siloam's shady rill,
By the red lightning rent and riven, .

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Child amidst the flowers at play,
Child of Abraham ! wherefore now,
Child of God and heir of glory,
Christ is coming ! let creation,
Come forth, ye wandering children, all, .
Come let us join our cheerful songs, .
Contemplate, saints, the source divine, .
Could we but look beyond our sphere,

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Dweller in heaven high, Ruler below!

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Fair shines the moon, Jerusalem,
Father of all, whose powerful voice, .
Fear was within the tossing bark,
Friends I love may die or leave me,
From every stormy wind that blows,
From Greenland's icy mountains,

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Glorious God! on Thee we call,
Glory to Thee, my God, this night,
Go, call for the mourners, and raise the lament,
Go when the morning shineth,
God moves in a mysterious way,
God of my life, whose gracious power,
God on earth! and God in heaven!
Grief is bitter o'er the dust,

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Hark! where peals yon swelling anthem?
He lives who lives to God alone,

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