The deep drawn wish, when children crown our hearth,
To hear the cherub-chorus of their mirth,

Undamped by dread that want may e'er unhouse,
Or servile misery knit those smiling brows:
The pride to rear an independent shed,
And give the lips we love unborrowed bread:
To see a world from shadowy forests won,
In youthful beauty wedded to the sun;
To skirt our home with harvests widely sown,
And call the blooming landscape all our own,

Our children's heritage, in prospect long,
These are the hopes, high-minded hopes and strong,
That beckon England's wanderers o'er the brine,
To realms where foreign constellations shine;
Where streams from undiscovered fountains roll,
And winds shall fan them from th' Antartie pole.
And, what though doomed to shores so far apart
From England's home, that even the home-sick heart
Quails, thinking, ere that gulf can be recrossed,
How large a space of fleeting life is lost :

Yet there, by time, their bosoms shall be changed,
And strangers once, shall cease to sigh estranged,
But jocund in the year's long sunshine roam,
That yields their sickle twice its harvest-home.

There, marking o'er his farm's expanding ring
New fleeces whiten, and new fruits upspring,
The grey-haired swain, his grand-child sporting round,
Shail walk at eve his little empire's bound,
Emblazed with ruby vintage, ripening corn,
And verdant rampart of acacian thorn,
While, mingling with the scent his pipe exhales,
The orange-grove's and fig-tree's breath prevails;
Survey with pride beyond a monarch's spoil,
His honest arm's own subjugated soil;
And summing all the blessings God has given,
Put up his patriarchal prayer to Heaven,
That when his bones shall here repose in peace,
The scions of his love may still increase,

And o'er a land where life has ample room,
In health and plenty innocently bloom.

Delightful land, in wildness ev'n benign,
The glorious past is ours, the future thine!
As in a cradled Hercules, we trace

The lines of empire in thine infant face.
What nations in thy wide horizon's span
Shall teem on tracts untrodden yet by man!
What spacious cities with their spires shall gleam,
Where now th' oppossum laps a lonely stream,
And all but brute or reptile life is dumb!
Land of the free! thy kingdom is to come,
Of states, with laws from Gothic bondage burst,
And creeds by chartered priesthoods unaccurst:
Of navies, hoisting their emblazoned flags,
Where shipless seas now wash unbeaconed crags;
Of hosts reviewed in dazzling files and squares,
Their pennoned trumpets breathing native airs,—
For minstrels thou shalt have of native fire,
And maids to sing the songs themselves inspire
Our very speech, methinks, in after time,
Shall catch th' Ionian blandness of thy clime;
And whilst the light and luxury of thy skies
Give brighter smiles to beauteous women's eyes,
The Arts, whose soul is love, shall all spontaneous rise.

Untracked in deserts lies the marble mine,
Undug the ore that 'midst thy roofs shall shine;
Unborn the hands-but born they are to be-
Fair Australasia, that shall give to thee

Proud temple-domes, with galleries winding high,
So vast in space, so just in symmetry,
They widen to the contemplating eye,
With collonaded aisles in long array,
And windows that enrich the flood of day.

O'er tesselated pavements, pictures fair,
And niched statues breathing golden air.

Nor there, whilst all that's seen bids fancy swell,
Shall music's voice refuse to seal the spell;-

But choral hymns shall wake enchantment round,
And organs yield their tempests of sweet sound.

Meanwhile ere Arts triumphant reach their goal,
How blest the years of pastoral life shall roll!
Ev'n should some wayward hour the settler's mind
Brood sad on scenes for ever left behind,
Yet not a pang that England's name imparts,
Shall touch a fibre of his children's hearts;
Round to that native land by nature's bond,
Full little shall their wishes rove beyond

Its mountains blue, and melon-skirted streams
Since childhood loved and dreamt of in their dreams.

How many a name to us uncouthly wild,
Shall thrill that region's patriotic child,

And bring as sweet thoughts o'er his bosom's chords,
As aught that's named in song to us affords !
Dear shall that river's margin be to him,
Where sportive first he bathed his boyish limb,
Or petted birds, still brighter than their bowers,
Or twined his tame young kangaroo with flowers.
But more magnetic yet to memory
Shall be the sacred spot, still blooming nigh,
The bower of love, where first his bosom burned,
And smiling passion saw its smile returned.

Go forth and prosper then, courageous band :
May He, who in the hollow of his hand
The ocean holds, and rules the whirlwind's sweep,
Assuage its wrath, and guide you on the deep!

We may expect that the same causes which have obliged families to leave Great Britain, and find new homes in Australia, will probably affect other parts of the old world, before the following prophecy contained in the end of the above mentioned chapter is fulfilled: "And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together ;

and every mountain and island were moved out of their places. And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bondman, and every freeman, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and rocks, fall on us and hide us from the face of Him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: for the great day of his wrath is come, and who shall be able to stand? * The seventh chapter speaks of the mercy of God in withholding those judgments until 144 thousand of the descendants of Abraham, and a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, are collected together in a place of safety. And those who are zealous in advancing Christ's kingdom should seek out the book of the Lord, and pray for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit to teach them through that book what they are to do. He has given a promise that before he comes himself he will "send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet," and many may wait until they see angels flying with trumpets, to tell them where they are to assemble to meet the Bridegroom. Now this language may only be figurative, and we learn from St. Paul, that they may appear in outward form like men. He says in writing to the Hebrews, "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." + The sound of the trumpet may mean the manner in which the Lord's messengers are enabled, since the art of printing was discovered, to spread his gospel and proclaim his will in a way unknown to the world, previous to this wonderful invention. I once heard a clergyman of the Church of

* Revelation vi. 14, 15, 16, 17. † Hebrews xiii. 2.

England lecturing on the 7th chapter of Joshua, in which Gideon is represented taking a city with the assistance of 300 men armed only with trumpets, and lamps in pitchers, the light of which was not visible until the pitchers were broken. He said this was a type of the manner in which satan's kingdom would be finally overthrown by the sound of the gospel trumpet, and the writings of men whose works would not be understood until after their death. In the 8th, 9th, and 10th chapters of the Revelation, there are seven angels spoken of, having seven trumpets, preparing to sound; and then successively sounding. The signs of the times and history must be consulted, to ascertain how many of them may have already sounded; if they are (as I believe) men whose writings have assisted in advancing Christ's kingdom. Every one in the old world is interested in the sounding of the trumpet of the seventh angel; for then is the "mystery" to be finished.