The Garden.

"To look through Nature up to Nature's God."

Not only in thy temple, LORD,
Which human hands have made,
I meditate thy sacred word,
Or view thy love displayed.

Here, where a nobler dome expands,
Far, far above my head,

A canopy unmade by hands,
Which thou alone hast spread;

I gaze-I wonder-I adore,
While nature flings abroad

Her every charm-her every store,
As emblems of her God.

In every flower that round me blows,

His beauty I can trace;

In each cool stream that near me flows,
His sweet refreshing grace.

B

Yon glorious sun before my thought
The brighter glories brings,

To which all those his love has bought
Shall soar on angel's wings.

But oh! not all the varied dress
Of water, earth, and skies,
Hath aught sufficient to express
The wond'rous sacrifice!

And yet all nature seems to move
The rapturous thought divine;
For all I see recalls thy love,
And warmly wakens mine.

And who upon thy love can e'er
His thoughts in transports lose;
Yet on its dearest pledge forbear
With fervent zeal to muse!

Oh, thus may still the gifts recall
The source from which they flow'd;
Still lead me to behold, through all,
The Saviour in the God!

TOWNSEND.

O Rainbow! I hallow thy light,

Fair type of the Godhead benign;

The rays of whose glory are varied and bright,
And beauteously blended as thine.

O Star of the Orient, hail!

How sweet, in the light of thy beam,

To muse on the Infant of Bethlehem's vale,
And the star that conducted to him!

And sweet o'er the landscape to bend,

The scenes of thy loveliness, Earth!

Where He, who hath taught me to call Him my

Friend,

Hath pictured His Deity forth.

And Man! my companion thou!

Thou Child of Perfection and God!

The image Divine sits enthron'd on thy brow,
And Majesty moves in thy nod.

O God of the Star and the Bow!
What meed shall I offer to Thee?

The Lord of this Paradise blooming below,
The Father of Men and of me :-
The Bow and the Star may fade,

But the light of thy countenance never ;-
And Man and the Earth in ruins be laid,
But Thou, and Thy Love, are for ever!

ANON.

The flowers.

There the rose unveils

Her breast of beauty, and each delicate bud

O' the season comes in turn to bloom and perish. But first of all the violet, with an eye

Blue as the midnight heavens, the frail snowdrop,
Born of the breath of Winter, and on his brow
Fix'd like a pale and solitary star:

The languid hyacinth, and wild primrose,
And daisy trodden down like modesty :

The fox-glove, in whose drooping bells the bee
Makes her sweet music; the narcissus

[named

From him who died for love,) the tangled woodbine,
Lilacs, and flowering lines, and scented thorns,
And some from whom the voluptuous winds of

June

Catch their perfumings

CORNWALL.