(Air.--Stevenson.)

The turf shall be my fragrant shrine; My temple, LORD! that Arch of thine; My censer's breath the mountain airs, And silent thoughts my only prayers.

My choir shall be the moonlight waves, When murmuring homeward to their caves, Or when the stillness of the sea, Even more than music dreams of Thee!

I'll seek, by day, some glade unknown, All light and silence, like thy Throne; And the pale stars shall be, at night, The only eyes that watch my rite.

Thy Heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, Shall be my pure and shining book, Where I shall read, in words of flame, The glories of thy wondrous name.

I'll read thy anger in the rack That clouds awhile the day-beam's track; Thy mercy in the azure hue Of sunny brightness, breaking thro'.

There's nothing bright, above, below, From flowers that bloom to stars that glow, But in its light my soul can see Some feature of thy Deity:

There's nothing dark, below, above, But in its gloom I trace thy Love, And meekly wait that moment, when Thy touch shall turn all bright again!

SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL.

MIRIAM'S SONG.

(AlR.--AVISON.)

"And Miriam, the Prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel in her band; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and with dances." --Exod. xv. 20.

Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! JEHOVAH has triumphed--his people are free. Sing--for the pride of the Tyrant is broken, His chariots, his horsemen, all splendid and brave-- How vain was their boast, for the LORD hath but spoken, And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea; JEHOVAH has triumphed--his people are free.

Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the LORD! His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword-- Who shall return to tell Egypt the story Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride? For the LORD hath looked out from his pillar of glory, And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide. Sound the loud Timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, JEHOVAH has triumphed--his people are free!

I have so much altered the character of this air, which is from the beginning of one of Avison's old-fashioned concertos, that, without this acknowledgment, it could hardly, I think, be recognized.

"And it came to pass, that, in the morning watch the LORD looked unto the host of the Egyptians, through the pillar of fire and of the cloud, and troubled the host of the Egyptians."--Exod. xiv. 24.

GO, LET ME WEEP.