THE SECOND DAY.

AT MIDNIGHT.

He spreadeth out the heavens like a curtain, and layeth the beams of His chambers in the waters, and maketh the clouds His chariot.-PSALM civ.

"Dei canamus gloriam."

GLORY to God on high,
Upon this day unfolding

His tent along the sky,
To wondering man beholding.

Heav'n's roof becomes a bed,
Where liquid lakes are pending,
On earth beneath outspread,

In dewy drops descending.

An image of the dower
Thou hast for us prepared,
Of grace the living shower

For them Thy love hath spared.

C

They drink that holy dew,
In faithful heart concealing;
It heavenward springs anew,
Itself in strength revealing.

Blest people, on whose land
Such high gifts are pouring,
Thy love and bounteous hand,
With fruits of love restoring.

Then let us Thy great Name
Day by day be singing,
Till with the glad acclaim
Eternity is ringing.

AT THE MATTINS.

I love them that love Me; and those that seek Me early shall find Me.-PROV. viii.

"Nil laudibus nostris eges."

OUR praise Thou need'st not, but Thy love,

Our Father and our Friend,

Would have our prayers thus soar above,
In blessings to descend.

Thy secret judgments' depths profound
Still sings the silent night,

The day, upon his golden round,
Thy pity infinite.

The soul lost in astonishment

Would speechless wonder fill,

But in the ravish'd bosom pent,
Love cannot all be still.

Feeble and faint she fain would tell

Of our great Father's love, Tempering the ills that with us dwell, And pledging good above.

Thither would our best thoughts aspire, But chains on us abide ;

O quicken Thou our faint desire,

And to Thy presence guide.

AT THE VESPERS.

Whom having not seen, ye love; in whom, though now ye see Him not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, receiving the end of your faith, even the salvation of your souls.-1 PETER i.

"Jactamur heu, quot fluctibus."

Now us with winds and waves at war
The world's dark deluge bears afar,
There shines in heav'n one lonely star;
Thither we lift our longing eyes,
And thither send our sighs.

A Father's help doth intervene,
And from on high an Hand is seen,

The o'erflowing water-floods between ;
Man's weakness grasps with trembling hold,

And grasping it grows bold.

What ills conspire, and work our fear,
But Thou than they art mightier ;-

The soul shall feel Thee standing near,
And lean on Thee the only good

To burst her servitude.

And this vile body Thou shalt change,
To be like Thine own Son's, to range
O'er the wide heav'ns, expanding strange;
But that immortal crown is won

By pain and toil alone.

Bless'd pain and toil, whose short-lived state A change so glorious doth await,

And joys no thought can estimate:

Who would not bear the short-lived pain
Immortal bliss to gain!

To Him above, to Him below,
To Him, as was, and as is now,
To Him while endless ages flow,
To Father, Son, and Spirit raise
All glory, love, and praise.