Whom siren pleasure beckons in Whose hearts, by whirlwind passions torn, But why in sorrow should we mourn We mourn for those who weep, Of lover or of friend; But they to whom the sway Of pain and grief is o'er, Whose tears our God hath wiped away, Oh, mourn for them no more! Mrs Sigourney. II. "And he bearing his cross went forth into a place called the place of a skull." John xix: 17. By the dark stillness brooding in the sky, Holiest of sufferers! round thy path of woe, And by the weight of mortal agony Laid on thy drooping form and pale meek brow, My heart was awed: the burden of thy pain I look'd once more, and, as the virtue spread Seemed of the very soul's bright rising born, And upwards, through transparent darkness. gleaming, Gazed, in mute reverence, woman's earnest eye, Lit, as a vase whence inward light is streaming, With quenchless faith, and deep love's fer vency; Gathering, like incense round some dim-veil'd shrine, About the Form, so mournfully divine! Oh! let thine image, as e'en then it rose, Beyond the breath of human hope or fear! Mrs Hemans. III. "And when they were come to the place which is called Calvary, there they crucified him, and the malefactors; one on the right hand, and the other on the left."-Luke xxiii. 33. CITY of God! Jerusalem, Why rushes out thy living stream? Still onward rolls the living tide, All maddening with the cry of blood. 'Tis glorious morn; from height to height - Shoot the keen arrows of the light; And glorious in their central shower, But woe to hill, and woe to vale! And woe to thee, resplendent shrine, Hide, hide thee in the heavens, thou sun, Like tempests gathering on the shore, The sign that maketh desolate The tomb, the flame, the massacre. They see the vengeance fall; the chain, Its tribes earth's warning, scoff, and shame. Still pours along the multitude, Still rends the heavens the shout of blood, But on the murderer's furious van, Who totters on? A weary man; A cross upon his shoulders bound His brow, his frame, one gushing wound. And now he treads on Calvary. What slave upon that hill must die? Yet who the third? The yell of shame Yet cursed and tortured, taunted, spurned, At last the word of death is given, |