WOODWORTH'S

SACRED MELODIES.

WOODWORTH'S

SACRED MELODIES.

CONSECRATION.

And did I say, my lyre should sleep,
Because no laurels deck'd it;
That I no more its chords would sweep,
Because its lay is valued cheap,

And all the world neglect it?
I did-but felt not then the flame

Which now within me blazes,
Nor reck'd of His eternal claim,
Who gave the lyre to sing His name,
And utter forth His praises.

Philosophy and Theosophy.

But now that lyre shall sleep no more,
Nor wake to earthly measures;

But every strain it warbles o'er
Shall that Eternal Source adore,
Whence flow immortal pleasures.

No more I prostitute its lay

To subjects evanescent ;

But sing those scenes of endless day
Where angel harps in rapture play,
And praises flow incessant.

PHILOSOPHY AND THEOSOPHY.

There is a Philosophy, hollow, unsound,
To matter confining its false speculations;
Whose flight is confined within Nature's dull round,
Its pinions the web of sophistic persuasions.

And there's a Philosophy truly divine,

That traces effects up to spiritual causes, Determines the link of the chain where they join, And soars to an infinite height ere it pauses.

That meanly debases the image of God,

To rank with the brutes in the scale of creation: This raises the tenant of light from the sod,

And bears him to heaven, his primitive station.

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Philosophy and Theosophy.

Hail, science of angels! Theosophy, hail!

That shows us the regions of bliss by reflection; Removes from creation's broad mirror the vail, Where spirit and matter appear in connexion.

It breaks on the soul in an ocean of light,

She starts from her lethargy, stretches her pinions, Beholds a new world bursting forth on her sight, And, soaring in ecstacy, claims her dominions.

A sense of original, dignified worth,

Her bosom expands with sublime exultation; She tastes immortality even on earth,

In light that eclipses the sun's emanation.

Be sages and pedants to nature confined,

And the bat darkly flutter in Luna's pale presence; I'll soar, like the eagle, through regions of mind,

In the blaze of that Sun which is truth in its essence.