Editor's Table [pp. 468-471]

Editor's Table.
ably from this happy insect life it led; but
upon looking over the numbers we are satisfied, from the truth of its reflections and
the polish of its style, that it was properly
entitled. One of the numbers contains a
pleasing occasional poem by our old friend,
the Rev. John C. McCabe, pronounced at
the Festival, and in another we find this
fine lyric by the Rev. E. Yates Reese, the
editor of the Methodist Protestant, which we
appropriate with great satisfaction
We beg to acknowledge the receipt of
t h e Mirror of the F estival, a little paper of
w h ich four numbers only were published,
a t the recent Fair h el d in Baltimore for the
benefit of the Building Fu nd of the Young
M e n's Christian Association. The Mirror
h a d an ephemeral existence but a bright
o n e, amid the blaze of gaslights, the fragrance of roses, and the smiles of beauty,
a n d a Baltimore daily suggested that it
should have been called T he Butterfly, prob
SING UNTO THE LORD.
Lift the voice of praise and gladness, Zion from her lbndage free
Wakes to deeds of glorious conquest, mountain, valley, shore and sea.
Lo! the fiery cloud and pillar moves at the Divine command,
And the tramp of mighty marching sounds triumphant through the land.
Zion's banner floats victorious while the hosts of hell retreat,
Rebels throw their weapons down, and fall submissive at His feet.
Rivers! flash the joy, and bear the Hallelujah far along,
Mountain echoes catch the chorus, swell aloud the thrilling song!
Air and ocean, isle and woodland, blend all harmonies of praise-. —
Let the shout of Israel's triumphs ring as in the ancient days, — —
Ring aloud, as when rejoicing from Egyptian bondage free,
Miriam's timbrel notes were wafted o'er the dark, tumultuous sea.
Sing, as when the rock in Horeb gushed with clear and full supply,
And the sound of purling waters mingled with the shoutings nigh;
Sing, as when the tide of Jordan parted in its onward flow,
Shout, as when withl blast of trumpets fell the walls of Jericho:
Shout, as when the Prophet, pleading, turned to Heaven his suppliant eye,
And the flood of flame descending drank the watered trenches dry.
Higher still and louder, clearer, let the notes of triumph rise,.
Emulate the songs of Angels hovering'neath Judean skies:
Glory to the Lord's Anointed! peace on earth, good will to men,
Zion's gates are filled with praise, and ransomed souls are "born again."
presenting them to our readers, many of
whom do not see the Central Presbyterian,
that we surrender the space for their insertion, to the exclusion of original material.
It is a part of the Messenger's mission,
which we never overlooked, to garner up
all that relates to the past history of Virginia in the lives of,i her distinguished citizens, and thus give to the whole series of
the magazine a significance not possessed
by periodicals devoted entirely to the literature of.the day.
We transfer to the pages of the Messenger this month, from the. Central Presbyterian, some pleasant recollections of John
Randolph of Roanoke, which were contributed to that excellent paper by one who
knew the gifted and eccentric orator and
politician. As contributions to a work as
yet unwritten, a full and impartial biography of one of the most remarkable men of
his time, these sketches have a permanent
them within ready access, and it is with the view of placing
them within ready access, as well as of
1859.]
471
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