3 And from the little worm, whose light Shines palely through the shades of night, Up to the sparkling stars that run Their evening rounds--or glorious sun, Rolling his car to twilight's rest-- All, all in thee is bright and blest. 4 And over all--above, below, We see thee--ever-present thou! In every wandering rill that flows, In every gentle breeze that blows; In every rising, setting sun, We trace thee--own thee--holy One! 5 Yes! in the mid-day's fervid beams, And in the midnight's shadowy dreams, In action and repose, we see, We recognize and worship thee; To thee our worthiest songs would give, And in thee die, and to thee live. 964. 7s. M. B. Barton. "He shall be like a tree planted in the rivers of water." 1 Blessed state! and happy he Who is like that planted tree; Living waters lave his root, Bends his bough with golden fruit. 2 When the seedling from its bed First lifts up its timid head, Ministry of thine must give. All on which its life can live. 3 Showers from thee must bid it thrive, Breath of thine must oft revive; Light from thee its bloom supplies,-- Left by thee it fades and dies. 4 Thine, O Lord! the power and praise Which a sight like this displays; Power of thine must plant it there, Praise of thee it should declare. 965. 11s. M. (Peculiar.) F. Osgood. "Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise." 1 Approach not the altar With gloom in thy soul; Nor let thy feet falter, From terror's control! God loves not the sadness Of fear and mistrust; Oh serve him with gladness-- The Gentle, the Just! 2 His bounty is tender, His being is love, His smile fills with splendor, The blue arch above. Confiding, believing, Oh! enter always, "His courts with thanksgiving-- His portals with praise!" 3 Nor come to the temple With pride in thy mien; But lowly and simple, In courage serene. Bring meekly, before him, The faith of a child: Bow down and adore him, With heart undefiled. 966. L. M. Miss Carey. Light and Darkness. 1 Our Father, when beside the tomb We mourn the unconscious dead below, Thy angels come amid the gloom, With solace for our doubt and woe. And looking through the shades of death To that bright land where none can die, How clearly then the eye of faith Beholds the portals of the sky! 2 And they whose lives serenely even In pleasure's flowery way have kept, Have never known the love of heaven, As they whose souls have mourned and wept! For stricken by the hand of woe, The soul must seek a Father's love, And they who weep can only know What healing balm is found above!