Obrázky na stránke


He looks abroad into the varied field
Of nature, and, though poor perhaps compar'd
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers. His t enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel,
But who, with filial confidence inspir'd,
Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say—“My Father made them all !”
Are they not his by a peculiar right,
And by an emphasis of interest his,
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy,
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world
So cloth’d with beauty for rebellious man ?-COWPER.

Not alone let printed books

All thy youthful mind engage:
Read the largest open book,

Nature's mighty, wondrous page ;
See the heavens inscribed with light-
God's hand-writing day and night.
Mark the opal morn appear;,

Mark the dew on leaf and flower;
Mark the storm-cloud's wild career,

And the rainbow in the shower;
List the wind, and list the sea :
God through these doth speak to thee.
Snow-clad mountain-realms of frost,

Nature's largest print behold;
Cragged and stern, and earthquake-tossed,

Clothed by forest stern and old,
God's vast creatures, there they stand,
Looking over sea and land.
See rich plains and winding rills,

Fertile vales, and fields of corn,
Flocks upon a thousand hills,

Little birds that sing at morn.
And all these will teach thee more
Than alone the scholar's lore:-
God in each, and God in all,
In the large and in the small-
Thunder's roar and sparrow's fall !

HOWITT. 66 Can

you not fancy the infinite charm of being able to read the spirit of nature truly—of being so thoroughly religious as to never look coldly on the meanest flower because God had made it; and really to feel that his voice is in the thunder, and his glory in the seas? This is indeed precious lore; and, with a mind thus attuned, the glories of the ocean-the crested billows--the ever changing hues of that majestic plain—the solemn yet soothing cadence of its waves—the plants, the animals which find their home in the waters -the delicate sea-shells, and the beautiful algæ, will be all felt and received as so many reflections of the glory of Him who is infinite both in wisdom and love."

" There is a legson in each flower,
A story in each stream and bower;
On every herb o'er which we tread,
Are written words, which, rightly read,
Will lead us from earth's fragrant sod
To hope, and holiness, and God.”



I love to stand on some huge steep
That overhangs the billowy deep,

And hear the waters roar;
I love to see the wild waves fly,
And lift their white crests to the sky,

Then dash upon the shore.

I love-when seated on its brow-
To look on all the world below,

And note the distant vale;
From thence to see the waving corn,
With golden hue the hills adorn,

And stem the rising gale.

I love far downwards to behold
The shepherd with his bleating fold,

And hear the pleasing sound
Of tinkling bell or mellow flute,
Wafted along—now almost mute-

Now echoing all around.

I love to see, at close of day,
Spread o'er the hills the sun's broad ray,

When sinking down the west;
Robing each cloud in rich attire,
While half the sky, by his bright fire,

In gorgeous hues is dress'd.

I love, when evening veils the day,
And Luna shines with silver ray,

To gaze upward and around,
And see ten thousand worlds of light
Shine ever new and ever bright

From Heaven's vault profound.
Her dark and lifted eye had caught

Its lustre from the spirit's gem,
And round her brow the light of thought

Was like an angel’s diadem;
She loved the earth,- the streams that wind
Like music, from its hills of

The stirring boughs above them twined-

The shifting light and shade between ;The fall of waves—the fountain's gush

The sigh of winds—the music heard At eventide from air and bush

The minstrelsy of leaf and bird. But chief she loved the sunset sky

Its golden clouds like curtains drawn To form the gorgeous canopy

Of monarchs to their slumbers gone.-WHITTIER.


PSALM XIX. The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their Great Original proclaim: Th’unwearied sun, from day to day, Does his Creator's pow'r display, And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the list’ning earth, Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole. What though in solemn silence all Move round this dark terrestrial ball ! What though no real voice nor sound Amid their radiant orbs be found ! In reason's ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, For ever singing as they shine, « The band that made us is Divine."-ADDISON. HYMN OF NATURE.

God of the earth's extended plains !

The dark green fields contented lie; The mountains rise like holy towers,

Where man might commune with the sky; The tall cliff challenges the storm

That lowers upon the vale below,
Where shaded fountains send their streams

With joyous music in their flow.
God of the dark and heavy deep!

The waves lię sleeping on the sands Till the fierce trumpet of the storm

Hath summoned up their thundering bands; Then the white sails are dashed like foam,

Or hurry, trembling, o'er the seas, Till, calmed by thee, the sinking gale

Serenely breathes, “ Depart in peace.” God of the forest's solemn shade!

The grandeur of the lonely tree, That wrestles singly with the gale,

Lifts up admiring eyes to thee; But more majestic far they stand,

When, side by side, their ranks they form, To weave on high their plumes of green,

And fight their battles with the storm.

God of the light and viewless air !

Where summer breezes sweetly flow, Or, gathering in their angry might,

The fierce and wintry tempests blow; All—from the evening's plaintive sigh,

That hardly lifts the drooping flower, To the wild whirlwind's midnight cry

Breathe forth the language of thy power. God of the fair and open sky!

How gloriously above us springs The tented dome of heavenly blue,

Suspended on the rainbow's rings ! Each brilliant star that sparkles through,

Each gilded cloud that wanders free In evening's purple radiance, gives

The beauty of its praise to thee. God of the rolling orbs above!

Thy name is written clearly bright In the warm day's unvarying blaze,

Or evening's golden shower of light.

For every fire that fronts the sun,

And every spark that walks alone
Around the utmost verge of heaven,

Were kindled at thy burning throne.
God of the world! the hour must come,

And nature's self to dust return;
Her crumbling altars must decay,

Her incense fires shall cease to burn;
But still her grand and lovely scenes

Have made man's warmest praises flow;
For hearts grow holier as they trace

The beauty of the world below.-W.O. B. PEABODY.


There is something in the contemplation of general laws which powerfully persuades us to merge individual feeling, and to commit ourselves unreservedly to their disposal; while the observations of the calm energetic regularity of nature, the immense scale of her operations, and the certainty with which her ends are attained, tend irresistibly to tranquillize and reassure the mind, and render it less accessible to repining, selfish and turbulent emotions. And this it does, not by debasing our nature into weak compliances and abject submission to circumstances, but by filling us, as from an inward spring, with a sense of nobleness and power, which enables us to rise superior to them, by showing us our strength and innate dignity, and by calling upon us for the exercise of those powers and faculties by which we are susceptible of the comprehension of so much greatness, and which form, as it were, the link between ourselves and the best and noblest benefactors of our species, with whom we hold communion in thoughts and participate in discoveries which have raised them above their fellow-mortals, and brought them nearer to their Creator.--SIR John IIERSCHEL.

Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy; for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneer of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life
Shall e'er prevail against us or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk ;

« PredošláPokračovať »