r, and others putting her in contrast and
almost opposition with all spirit, beauty and truth. This is no place, nor
has the present writer inclination, here, to take part in the grand
debate, infinitely interesting as it is, on either side. He would only
catch, or repeat and prolong the strain of an old and sacred ode--he would
contribute a meditation. He would run the matchless ancient verse into a
few particulars of fresh and modern illustration, content if he can make
no melody of his own, to recall for some, perhaps not enough heeding it,
the Hebrew music that has lingered so long on the ear of the world.

TRANSLATIONS.

BY THE REV. CHARLES T. BROOKS

I.

TO GOD'S CARE I COMMIT MYSELF!

(FROM THE GERMAN OF ARNDT.)

Again is hushed the busy day,
And all to sleep is gone away;
The deer hath sought his mossy bed,
The bird hath hid his little head.
And man to his still chamber goes
To rest from all his cares and woes.

Yet steps he first before his door,
To look into the night once more,
With love-thanks and love-greeting, there,
For rest his spirit to prepare,
To see the high stars shine abroad
And drink once more the breath of God.

Mild Father of the world, whose love
Keeps watch o'er all things from above,
To Thee my stammering prayer would rise;
Bend down from yonder starry skies;
And from Thy sparkling, sun-strewed way,
Oh teach thy feeble child to pray!

All day Thou hadst me in Thy sight;
So guard me, Father, through this night;
And by thy dear benignity
From Satan's malice shelter me;
For what of evil may befall
The body, is the least of all.

Oh send from realms of purity
The dearest angel in to me,
As a peace-herald let him come,
And watchman, to my house and home,
That all desires and thoughts of mine,
Around thy heaven may climb and twine.

Then day shall part exultingly,
Then night a word of love shall be,
Then morn an angel-smile shall wear
Whose brightness no base thing can bear,
And we, earth's children, walk abroad,
Children of light and sons of God.

And when the last red evening-glow
Shall greet these failing eyes below,
When yearns my soul to wing its way
To the high track of endless day,
Then all the shining ones shall come
To bear me to the spirit's home.

II.

THE UNKNOWN.

(FROM THE G