A voice, as of command, through the deep air,
Above the countless throng is heard to move,
And the whole plain is motion. As they tread
In grateful temper on, a song, out-poured
From lips and hearts unnumbered, seems to rise
As the broad concourse lift the joyous lay:

I.

"We are passing on to the heaving main, From the bitter curse and the bondsman's chain; From the taunts of the vile and the proud we go, To the land where rich honey and milk will flow; Where the smile of God on our homes will lie, Like the calm, pure light of a summer sky; in our hearts may dwell,

We

go, where peace

We bid to the region of plagues farewell.

II.

"We haste from these borders, where now the wail

Of desolate mothers is on the gale;

The cries of the first-born in death we hear,

Fainter they wax on the pitying ear;

The yearning bosom, whose sighs are pour'd
O'er the dreamless sleep of the unrestor’d—
These are the sounds in this gloomy land,
So late by the wings of the tempest fann'd.

III.

"We go, though the journey be long and sad,
To a clime where the mourner will soon be glad;
Where the waters are sweet, and the air serene-
Where our flocks may wander in pastures green;
We may faint in our languor, as on we tread,
On the cold earth pillow the weary head;

But our God hath spoken-we trust his word,
We have heard the voice of the living Lord!

IV.

"He will guide us onward, whose mighty hand Scattered cloud and blight over Egypt's land; Whose glance unobstructed surveyed it round, When fire and hail smote the desert ground;

When the locusts swept through the upper sky, And drave the light from their course on high; When they sank, like poison, to blast the spring, To destroy each tender and vernal thing.

V.

"He will bear us on!

We shall rest at last,

And, in peace, look back on our journey passed;
Upon perils averted, on blessings shed,

Like dews of eve on the mountain's head;
The Lord will temper the midnight gale,

He will guard our feet from the scorpion's trail;
From fiery serpents, from drought and pain-
Our God is mighty where man is vain.

VI.

"We will praise his name, in that goodly land, Where tend the steps of this lengthened band; Where the pomegranate ripens, and strays the vine, Where the olive-leaves bloom in the bright sunshine;

Where the voices of waters and waving trees
Are rich on the fragrant and blessed breeze:
That promised land as a type is given
Of the regions of glory and life in heaven!"
W. G. C.

PHILADELPHIA.

THE CELEBRATION OF SPRING.*

The following article is a translation from the German by Mr. Herman Bokum, Professor of the German language in the University of Pennsylvania. It is from a work singularly entitled "The Sound of the Bell." This work consists of the musings of a young clergyman, and is characterized throughout by the enthusiasm of the German writers. It is written in a style of high devotional fervour. We have been permitted to make use of one of the chapters, for which we return thanks to the translator.-ED.

I FOUND it impossible to stay any longer at home. The vernal sun threw its rays upon my writing

*The Celebration of Spring owes its formal existence, in a great degree, to the social relations of Germany; it is by no means a day that has been set apart for this purpose by eccle. siastical authority. It would be wrong, however, to imagine, that the silent institution of these festivals was occasioned solely by the social and communicative spirit of the people. Germany is favoured with a climate in which sudden changes are not very frequent; and in general the different seasons announce themselves in a very regular manner. Its inhabitants, therefore, feel more inclined to celebrate their return.— Trans.