(A IR . — H AYDN .)

O H , teach me to love Thee, to feel what thou art,
Till, filled with the one sacred image, my heart
Shall all other passions disown;
Like some pure temple that shines apart,
Reserved for Thy worship alone.

In joy and in sorrow, thro' praise and thro' blame,
Thus still let me, living and dying the same,
In Thy service bloom and decay —
Like some lone altar whose votive flame
In holiness wasteth away.

CHORUS OF PRIESTS .

(A IR . — M OZART .)

Almighty G OD ! when round thy shrine
The Palm-tree's heavenly branch we twine,
(Emblem of Life's eternal ray,
And Love that " fadeth not away, " )
We bless the flowers, expanded all,
We bless the leaves that never fall,
And trembling say, — " In Eden thus
The Tree of Life may flower for us! "
When round thy Cherubs — smiling calm,
Without their flames — we wreathe the Palm,
Oh, G OD ! we feel the emblem true —
Thy Mercy is eternal too,

Fear not that, while around thee
Life's varied blessings pour,
One sigh of hers shall wound thee,
Whose smile thou seek'st no more.
No, dead and cold for ever
Let our past love remain;
Once gone, its spirit never
Shall haunt thy rest again.

May the new ties that bind thee
Far sweeter, happier prove,
Nor e'er of me remind thee,
But by their truth and love.
Think how, asleep or waking,
Thy image haunts me yet;
But, how this heart is hreaking
For thy own peace forget.

If in loving, singing, night and day
We could trifle merrily life away,
Like atoms dancing in the beam,
Like day-flies skimming o'er the stream,
Or summer blossoms, born to sigh
Their sweetness out, and die —
How brilliant, thoughtless, side by side,
Thou and I could make our minutes glide!
No atoms ever glanced so bright,
No day-flies ever danced so light,
Nor summer blossoms mixt their sigh,
So close, as thou and I!

Oh , guard our affection, nor e'er let it feel
The blight that this world o'er the warmest will steal:
While the faith of all round us is fading or past,
Let ours, ever green, keep its bloom to the last.

Far safer for Love't is to wake and to weep,
As he used in his prime, than go smiling to sleep;
For death on his slumber, cold death follows fast,
While the love that is wakeful lives on to the last.

And tho', as Time gathers his clouds o'er our head,
A shade somewhat darker o'er life they may spread,

Scott's Run o'erflowed my father's land
As in our woodland, walking there,
I went with Eunice hand in hand —
Gentle was she, unwooed and fair!
To tell her better than in speech
I, while she wove for me a wreath,
Cut her initials on a beech
And mine, who loved her, underneath.

" What's this? " spoke Eunice, coy to win,
" That crawls so blind across my feet? "
It was a hard-shell Terrapin,
Its eyes aye down, its pace not fleet;
" These slow things beat the Hare, they tell,
And humbly creep, boxed in their lair:

Sing — sing — Music was given,
To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving;
Souls here, like planets in Heaven,
By harmony's laws alone are kept moving.
Beauty may boast of her eyes and her cheeks,
But Love from the lips his true archery wings;
And she, who but feathers the dart when she speaks,
At once sends it home to the heart when she sings,
Then sing — sing — Music was given,
To brighten the gay, and kindle the loving;
Souls here, like planets in Heaven,
By harmony's laws alone are kept moving.

O THAM AND T RURO Tunes .

Lord, when shall I, without a vail,
Behold the Man who bore my sin;
Constrain'd no longer to bewail
That still that evil works within?

When shall my passions, all subdued,
And moulded into perfect love,
Receive impressions only good,
And to thy glory always move?

When shall I mount to that bright throne
By love divine prepar'd for me;

Why should you such Devotion still
To that false Idol Honour shew!
In this you prove Love's Infidel
And worship your most deadly Foe.

Like faithless Indians thus you bow
To a grim Pow'r that's serv'd with Fear.
And, as it does your Torment grow,
Become the more its Worshipper.

Mistaken Saint! give me the Pow'r
The Errors of thy Zeal to mend;
Thy proud Tormentor serve no more,

W REATH'S Tune .

Not unto us, but to thy grace,
Great fountain of eternal love,
Belongs the everlasting praise
That sinners hope to dwell above.
Cho Praise ye the Lord — the Saviour praise,
Hosanna to the God of Grace.

Jehovah Jesus, just and wise,
Laid the foundation of our peace
Before he spread the azure skies
Or form'd the earth, or fill'd the seas.
Cho Praise ye the Lord , &c.

Before his all-creasing voice
Supply'd the sun and moon with light,