which reflects high credit on the taste of the editors, and serves
to prove that sicklied sentimentalities, like all other sweets, when
enjoyed to excess, will cloy the fancy, but not so as entirely to
unfit the mind for a higher species of intellectual enjoyment. We
would have _old and new alternate_ in the literary wreath, lest, by
losing the comparison, the "bright lights" of other times should be
treated with irreverence and neglect.]


FROM THE "HYMN ON THE FAIREST FAIR."


I feel my bosom glow with wonted fires:
Raised from the vulgar press, my mind aspires,
_Wing'd with high thoughts_, unto His praise to climb
From deep Eternity who call'd forth time:--
That ESSENCE, which, not mov'd, makes each thing move,--
Uncreate beauty--all-creating love...
Ineffable, all-powerful GOD, all free,--
Thou only liv'st, and all things live by thee...
Perfection's sum--prime cause of every cause,
Midst and beginning, where all good doth pause...
Incomprehensible, by reachless height;
And unperceived, by _excessive light_.
O King! whose greatness none can comprehend,
Whose boundless goodness does to all extend,--
Light of all beauty, ocean without ground,
_That standing, flowest--giving, dost abound_...
Great Architect--Lord of this universe,--
That sight is blinded would thy greatness pierce.