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How lovely! O how pleasant! when
They lived with men!

Than eagles swifter: stronger far
Than lions are:

Whom love in life so strongly tied
The stroke of death could not divide.

Sad Israel's daughters, weep for Saul;
Lament his fall!

Who fed you with the earth's increase,
And crown'd with peace;

With robes of Tyrian purple deck'd,
And gems which sparkling light reflect.
How are thy worthies by the sword
Of war devour'd!

O Jonathan! the better part
Of my torn heart!

The savage rocks have drunk thy blood!
My brother! O how kind! how good!

Thy love was great; O never more
To man, man bore!

No woman when most passionate,
Loved at that rate!


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"To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host,

"And slaughter a sacrifice;

Let the life-blood be sprinkled on each door-post,
Nor stir till the morn arise1;

1 "And ye shall take a bunch of in the bason, and strike the lintel and hyssop, and dip it in the blood that is the two side-posts with the blood that

And the Angel of Vengeance shall pass you by,
He shall see the red stain, and shall not come nigh
Where the hope of your household lies."

The people hear, and they bow them low-
Each to his house hath flown;

The lamb is slain, and with blood they go,
And sprinkle the lintel-stone;

And the doors they close when the sun hath set,
But few in oblivious sleep forget

The judgment to be done.

'Tis midnight-yet they hear no sound
Along the lone still street:

No blast of a pestilence sweeps the ground,
No tramp of unearthly feet,

Nor rush as of harpy-wing goes by,

But the calm moon floats in the cloudless sky,
'Mid her wan light clear and sweet.

Once only, shot like an arrowy ray,
A pale-blue flash was seen;

It pass'd so swift, the eye scarce could say
That such a thing had been:

Yet the beat of every heart was still,
And the flesh crawl'd fearfully and chill,
And back flow'd every vein.

The courage of Israel's bravest quail'd
At the view of that awful light,

Though knowing the blood of their offering avail'd
To shield them from its might:

They felt 'twas the spirit of death had pass'd,

That the brightness they saw his cold glance had cast
On Egypt's land that night.

Wail, King of Pyramids! Death hath cast
His shafts through thine empire wide,

But o'er Israel in bondage his rage hath pass'd,'

No first-born of hers hath died

is in the bason and none of you shall the morning."- Ex. xii. 22. Read go out at the door of his house until the 12th chap.

Go, Satrap! command that the captive be free,
Lest their God in fierce anger should smite even thee,
On the crown of thy purple pride.


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"The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. They are corrupt, they have done abominable works, there is none that doeth good."

The fool hath said, "There is no God:"
No God!-Who lights the morning sun2,
And sends him on his heavenly road,
A far and brilliant course to run?
Who, when the radiant day is done,
Hangs forth the moon's3 nocturnal lamp,
And bids the planets, one by one,
Steal o'er the night-vales, dark and damp?
No God!-Who gives the evening dew,

The fanning breeze, the fostering shower?
Who warms the spring-morn's budding bough,
And paints the summer's noontide flower?
Who spreads in the autumnal bower
The fruit-tree's mellow stores around;
And sends the winter's icy power 5,
T'invigorate the exhausted ground?

1 Satrap, a title given by Greek writers to the Persian governors of provinces before the conquests of Alexander. Here it refers to Pharaoh.

2 "The day is thine, the night also is thine; thou hast prepared the light and the sun." - Ps. lxxiv. 16.

3 "The sun to rule by day: the moon and stars to rule by night.".

Ps. cxxxvi. 8. 9. See also Gen. i. 16;
Ps. viii. 3; Jer. xxxi. 35.

4 Job, xxxviii. 28. "Hath the rain
a father?

And who hath begotten the drops of the dew?"

5 29. "From whose womb came the


The hoar-frost of heaven, who gave it birth?"

No God!-Who makes the bird to wing
Its flight like arrow through the sky,
And gives the deer its power to spring
From rock to rock triumphantly?
Who form'd Behemoth1, huge and high,
That at a draught the river drains,
And great Leviathan2 to lie,
Like floating isle, on ocean plains?

No God!-Who warms the heart to heave
With thousand feelings soft and sweet,
And prompts the aspiring soul to leave
The earth we tread beneath our feet,
And soar away on pinions fleet,
Beyond the scene of mortal strife,
With fair ethereal forms to meet,
That tell us of an after life?

No God!-Who fixed the solid ground3
On pillars strong, that alter not?
Who spread the curtain'd1 skies around?
Who doth the ocean bounds allot? 5

Job, xxxvi. 26. "Lo, God is great, and we know him not:

The number of his years is unsearchable.

27. For he draweth up the drops of water,

They distil rain in its vapour, 22. Which the clouds pour down;

They pour it upon man in abundance."

1 Behemoth. The hippopotamus is generally understood to be the behemoth of Scripture. "Behold, he drinketh up a river, and hasteth not: he trusteth that he can draw up Jordan into his mouth." Job, xl. 23.

2 Leviathan: this is generally supposed to be the crocodile of the Nile. By some it is considered to be the whale. Milton thus speaks of it :"that sea-beast Leviathan, which God of all his works Created hug st that swim the ocean


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3" Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed for ever."- Ps. civ. 5.

4" Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain.”—Ps. civ. 2.

5 "Thou hast set a bound that they may not pass over: that they turn not again to cover the earth.". Ps. civ. 9.

Job, xxxviii. 8. "Who shut up the sea with doors

In its bursting forth as from the womb?

9. When I made the cloud its garment,


And swathed it in thick darkness: I measured out for it my limits, And fixed its bars and doors: 11. And said, Thus far shalt thou come, but no further,

And here shall thy proud waves be stayed!" - Barnes.

Who all things to perfection brought
On earth below, in heaven abroad?.
Go ask the fool of impious thought
That dares to say,-
"There is no God!"




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It happen'd on a solemn eventide,

Soon after He that was our Surety died,
Two bosom friends, each pensively inclin'd,
The scene of all those sorrows left behind,
Sought their own village, busied as they went
In musings worthy of the great event:

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They spake of him they loved, of him whose life,
Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strife,
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,
A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
The recollection, like a vein of ore,

jactum. air.

The farther traced, enrich'd them still the more;
They thought him, and they justly thought him, one
Sent to do more than he appear'd t' have done;
T'exalt a people, and to place them high
Above all else, and wonder'd he should die.
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,
A stranger join'd them, courteous as a friend,
And ask'd them, with a kind, engaging air,
What their affliction was, and begg'd a share.
Inform'd, he gather'd up the broken thread,
And, truth and wisdom gracing all he said,

1 See Luke, xxiv. 13–36.

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