The meanest lamp now shining there In size and lustre doth exceed The noblest of thy creatures here, And of our friendship hath no need. Yet these upon mankind attend For secret aid or public light; And from the world's extremest end Repair unto us every night. O, had that stamp been undefaced Which first on us thy hand had set, How highly should we have been graced, Since we are so much honored yet! Good God, for what but for the sake Of thy beloved and only Son, Who did on him our nature take, Were these exceeding favors done? As we by him have honored been, Let us to him due honors give; Let us uprightness hide our sin, And let us worth from him receive. Yea, so let us by grace improve What thou by nature doth bestow, That to thy dwelling-place above We may be raised from below. GEORGE WITHER. * * * * * HYMN BEFORE SUNRISE, IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI. Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald, awful head, O sovran Blanc! The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form, Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines How silently! Around thee and above, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black-- An ebon mass. Methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity! O dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon thee, Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Didst vanish from my thought. Entranced in prayer I worshipped the Invisible alone. Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the mean while, wast blending with my thought,-- Yea, with my life and life's own secret joy,-- Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing, there, As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven! Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake, Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake! Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my hymn. Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale! O, struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink, Companion of the morning-star at dawn, Thyself Earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Co-herald,--wake, O, wake, and utter praise! Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?