RECEIVED TOO LATE FOR LAST WEEK

Mr. Power. - The following lines were composed
some time since, and have once appeared in
print in the New-York Magazine: - If you are
not provided with any thing better on this
occasion, and think them worthy a place in
your paper, you are at liberty to insert them.

CHRISTMAS HYMN.

HARK! what glad sounds the dreary desart cheer,
And whisper peace to man's enraptur'd ear:
O'er Bethl'ms City see what glories rise,
What hues celestial paint the bending skies.

A Savior born! -- ye balmy winds that blow,
Waft the glad tidings earth's wide empire thro';
Ye roving clouds. ye waters as ye roll,
Bear the sweet burden to the farthe'st pole.

Tell mourning man, his days of grief are o'er,
The sigh of sorrow shall be heard no more,
On wings of peace, see God's own Son descend,
To pay our ransome and become our friend.

What love surpassing fill'd his Heav'nly mind,
With joyful haste he flew to lost mankind,
Assum'd our Nature, Sinner's place supplied,
Liv'd for our Peace; and for our Pardon -- died!

Then O my soul, thy dear redeemer love,
He left for thee the blissful seats above,
He bought for thee Salvation with his Blood,
He reconcil'd thee to an angry God.

Henry
Poughkeepsie, Dec. 25, 1801.