Chill airs, and wintry winds ! my ear Has grown familiar with

familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year,

I listen, and it cheers me long.

HYMN

OF THE MORAVIAN NUNS OF BETHLEHEM,

AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER,

When the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head;
And the censer burning swung,
Where, before the altar, hung
The blood-red banner, that with prayer
Had been consecrated there.

And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while, Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.

Take thy banner! May it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave;
When the battle's distant wail

Breaks the sabbath of our vale,
When the clarion's music thrills

To the hearts of these lone hills,
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks.

Take thy banner! and, beneath
The war-cloud's encircling wreath,
Guard it! till our homes are free!
Guard it! - God will prosper thee!
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.

Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
If the vanquished warrior bow,
Spare him ! - by our holy vow,
By our prayers

and

many tears,
By the mercy that endears,
Spare him! - he our love hath shared!
Spare him! - as thou wouldst be spared !

Take thy banner ! — and if e'er
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier,

And the muffled drum should beat

To the tread of mournful seet,
Then this crimson flag shall be

Martial cloak and shroud for thee.

And the warrior took that banner proud,

And it was his martial cloak and shroud !

SUNRISE ON THE HILLS.

I
STOOD upon

the hills, when heaven's wide arch
Was glorious with the sun's returning march,
And woods were brightened, and soft gales
Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales.
The clouds were far beneath me;- bathed in light,
They gathered mid-way round the wooded height,
And, in their fading glory, shone
Like hosts in battle overthrown,
As

many a pinnacle, with shifting glance, Through the gray mist thrust up its shattered lance,