"Mine are the free boundless heavens, mine the lightnings, mine the stars:"

And aloft I clapp'd my pinions, soaring on for days and weeks,

After some fresh burning hope still kindling o'er fresh mountain peaks.

Ah, I knew not that, tho' earthborn lamps might never mount so high,

There are meteors that deceive, and stars* that wander in the sky.

Ah, I saw not that the pole-star, Faith, was waning fast and dim,

And of God-fool, fool!-I thought not in my madden'd heart of Him.

But from far I heard a whisper of the fontal light divine,

Reason, human earthly Reason! sheds within the spirit's shrine.

Syren-like that music falling, like a gush of holy tears On deep waves, flow'd on and whisper'd 'twas the music of the spheres,

Bidding me come up and follow to its own dear home on high,

Maddening while it tranced my soul, and blinding while it lured mine eye;

By the lamp of mortal reason glimmering in the breast of youth,

I would judge and pass my verdict on the blessed page of truth

Till I rear'd my adoration higher than God's eternal

throne,

Reason was the God I worshipp'd-trusting, clinging there alone.

*Wandering stars.

And I follow'd-poor fond climber-leaving faith and

trust above

To low grovelling minds of earth, or fond enthusiasts' frantic love,

Till I stood in naked horror on the sceptic's precipice, All my darling visions staring on me there, like things of ice.

Oh, the solitude that crush'd me! oh, that dreary word ' alone'!

Not a kindred heart to lean on, not an anchor for mine

own

Without truth and love and beauty, human love or love

of God

Not a gleam to point the pathway of return the way

trode :

I

But the meteors I had follow'd sicken'd one by one and

died,

And the dark of darkness o'er them closed for ever far

and wide.

Woe was me! for in that midnight I did neither pray nor weep

Had I pray'd, an Ear was open, and an Eye that could not sleep.

But when all without was desert, and wild desert all

within,

I did plunge, with headlong madness, down the treacherous gulph of sin.

Whilome I had often sneer'd at others from the height of fame,

Finding what they deem'd enjoyment in the haunts of sin and shame :

Now-but no-I will not drag thee to the gloomy dens of guilt

List their spectral voices curse me-go and ask them if thou wilt:

Broken hearts and gentle bosoms, once serene and pure as thine

Woe, woe! broken now and withering soon to fall and die like mine

But I recked not, for my spirit seemed alternate fire and night

Like a cloud-robed sky at midnight riven and kindled into light.

E. H. B.

(To be continued.)

ON THE SERVICES OF THE CHURCH.

No. VI.

THE first song of praise appointed for the order of Morning Prayer, is borrowed from the worship of the elder dispensation, and partakes largely of its peculiar character. It is joy in the God of nature; that nature which the types of the law had made one vast treasurehouse of spiritual truth to the enlightened worshipper. It is the exultation of the chosen flock in the peculiar care of their shepherd, and it closes with an impressive warning drawn from those judgments which opened the dispensation of righteousness. The second song belongs more peculiarly to the Christian Church; and, though it has no claim to inspiration, stands, perhaps of all uninspired compositions, highest in the estimation of Christians. We are here led to consider the Lord of Sabaoth, rather than the God of nature; the God of the whole earth, rather than he who led Israel like a flock; the Redeemer, who himself passing through the sharpness of death, opens the gate of the heavenly Canaan ; rather than the righteous Judge, by whom the unbelieving Israelites were excluded from Canaan of old.

"We praise thee, O God: we acknowledge thee to be the Lord."

Simple, most familiar truth; we cannot recal those days of infancy when first we learned it it is in danger of being reckoned so true as to lie neglected and

forgotten. Let us then, to awaken our minds to some sense of its priceless value, suppose, for a moment, that it were effaced from our minds,—would it not be as if the sun were blotted from the firmament ? "We acknowledge thee to be the Lord ;" and, though all the foundations of the earth be out of course, though injustice reign, and truth be trampled under foot, we know who bears up the pillars of it. "We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord;" and, amidst the chaos and confusion which prevails on every side, we can rest in blessed confidence, that all is under the guidance of Infinite wisdom. "We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord;" and, in every hour of weakness, we have a strong tower whereunto we may run and be safe. "We acknowledge Thee to be the Lord ;" and every form of creature excellence, becomes more precious as a shade of thy perfection. But we might go on for ever, ere we had exhausted the blessed results of this one acknowledgment, which alone separates us from the polluting ways of idolatry, or the frozen chain of fatalism. Let us, then, take heed, that this acknowledgment be not made in word only, but that He whom we thus acknowledge to be our Lord, does really reign over every thought, word, and deed.

"All the earth doth worship Thee: the Father everlasting."

The Mahometans have a beautiful tradition of one night, most holy, though unknown to mortals, when all inanimate creation adores its Maker, and blessed influences beam from every object. No fiction is so fair as truth: such a sabbath is indeed approaching, when the groans and travails of creation shall be over, when the mountains shall bring peace to the people, and the little hills by righteousness, when the field shall be joyful,