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 1 
 
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 1 
 
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> \ 
 
 i 
 
 SONGS BY THE WAY. 
 
PABIBH OHUBOH AND BBCTOIIV, ST. JOUNS, O. B. 
 
i! 
 
I 
 
 •1 
 
I 
 
 •1 
 
 SONGS BY THE WAY: 
 
 A OOLLIOTION 09 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS 
 
 POK THE COMFORT AND ENCOUIIAOEMENT 
 
 OF 
 
 Christian |jlgnms. 
 
 BT 
 
 THE REV. H. F. DARNELL 
 
 DEDICATED TO UIS I'AMSUIONEBS. 
 
 /.aS"^;™"" " ""■ ^'^ "^ «"""' "■" «»™ to Zlo- ^u. «,,„..._ 
 
 PRINTED BT JOHN LOTELL, ST. NICHOLAS STKEET 
 
 1862. 
 
I 
 
PTIKFACE. 
 
 Tlu, Author pr„«,n„ M. little volume to ,l,o pul,li„ „i,h 
 
 .pr..^.r ... th„ „ivi„„ ,,,.,„„, „ ut „l,i.,, iu,.„ „„ 
 
 b. -»cc...,r„ „ft„, u,„ „.„„„„r ,l,„t |,„ ,,„,„, „, ,„„,^,, ' 
 .pok-y lor »H !»,„„, i„„,„„„,, „, ,,„ ^„„^.j^_^ .^ _^ 
 
 tlu^ -..h.j-. Mo,t of „.„ ,„,.,„,„ „.,„ „„^^ 
 
 "^''" ' ""'" '""'- «'-'■ devolve upon „ p„r„. p„: 
 
 tor. „ «,„,„ e„^. .,„y „„,^ ^^^_^^^_, . P 
 
 :rti;::;ir""^^^ 
 
 The Author ha« ventured to di'dicato M.;« i- ,• / 
 
 i.iy oring no discredit upon a community which 
 has manifested towards him the utmost kindness and c rl 
 %; and for which lie has already learned to eheri h , ' 
 monts of such affectionate regard. 
 
 Rectory, St. Johns, C.E.,18G2. 
 
INTEODTJCTION. 
 
 "Tho ransomed of the Lord shall return, and como to Zion with Bonge."— 
 Isaiah xxxv. 10. 
 
 How often does the weary traveller, returning homeward 
 from a distant country, love to beguile the solitude and tedium 
 of his journey with snatches of song ; which at once give 
 utterance to the feelings within his heart, and cheer and 
 stimulate his flagging spirits. The strains naturally vary 
 according to the diiFerent emotions which reign within his 
 breast. Whilst sinking under the fatigues of the way, and 
 far oif from his destination, they are of a mingled, and chiefly 
 of a mournful character ; but, as he nears the home where 
 loving friends are waiting to welcome him with open arms, 
 they give expression solely to the joy and happiness which 
 fill his bosom. 
 
 Even £3 does the Christian pilgrim, as he treads the rugged 
 steep which leads to Zion, gather solace and encouragement 
 from song, in which he gives vent to the emotions strug- 
 gling within him, and thus lightens the heavy load under 
 
 4 
 
 ' 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 which he bends. The burden of his song takes its complexion 
 from the condition of his soul, and from the ever-changing 
 circumstances by which he is surrounded. At the outset, he 
 mostly chooses such strains as excite his courage and devotion, 
 and rouse his dormant energies; or else such as remind him 
 of the comforts, privileges, and helps placed within his reach. 
 In notes of praise and thanksgiving, he frequently has occa- 
 sion to acknowledge the favor and protection of a beneficent 
 Father. In the hour of trial and weakness, in strains of 
 fervent " prayer and supplication, his requests are made known 
 unto God," and His aid is invoked. When his spirit passes 
 under the cloud, and ia oppressed with a sense of sin and 
 spiritual darkness ; when he has experienced some crushing 
 calamity; or when he has committed the lifeless form of some 
 beloved friend to the silent dust ;— he finds it an unspeaka- 
 ble comfort, in suitable and touching strains, to give expres- 
 sion to the feelings of humiliution, grief, despondency, hope, 
 and 'confidence, as they successively dominate within his 
 heart. But, as he advances on his upward way; rises above 
 the cares of earth, and catches sight of the golden gates, his 
 songs become more joyful and triumphant; till at last, as he 
 treads the golden streets of that heavenly city, and all its 
 glory bursts upon his view, no earthly strains can give utter- 
 ance to the rapturous joy which fills his soul ; for nought ^ut 
 an angel's harp and an angel's tongue can declare the unut- 
 terable bliss of the accepted saint, as he stands in the pre- 
 sence of his God and his Redeemer, one of that evci-blessed 
 band of whom the prophet speaks : " the ransomed of the 
 Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and cverlast- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ing joy upon their head, ; they .h„ll obtain joy „nd gladne™ 
 
 end sorrow ™d sighing shall flee away." 
 
 Permit me then, dear reader, as a fellow-pilgrim, bound fo, 
 the same celestial city, to touch my harp and sin. my ^ongs 
 withm your hearing. You may be farther advanced than I 
 on the road to glory, and your .spiritual ej^perience i,,, I trust 
 deeper and sweeter than „,i„„; you may oft be baskin. in 
 the sunbeams of the Divine presence, whilst I am yet°b„t 
 strugghn,, through the clouds and mists which float between 
 It and tins lower world; yet I am in hopes that the utter- 
 ances of my heart may sometimes wake a response in yours 
 and „,inister, in some slight degree, to your comfort and 
 eiicourngoment. 
 
 Should I find one fellow-pilgrim in KcaUncu, and leave 
 h.m m^«»..; shonld I find but one brother „«„,?„.,•„„ „„d 
 be enabled to lead him b„ck again to the narnm n:,,, ; should 
 I find one fellow-sinner m,kn„t a S<,mo„r, and le.ave him 
 at^ theje., of ./,.„,, ,. neither they nor I will ever cease to re- 
 joice that I fell in with them during their journey, and with 
 feebe hands and feebler voice, sang to them these ' 8ongs by 
 the Way.' "^ 
 
COJSTTENTS. 
 
 SONGS BY THE WAY. 
 
 1. Tho Beaten Path, pa<^^- 
 
 2. Tho Walk with God, .... " 
 
 3. Church Membership (in five parts) : 
 
 The Christian Covenant 
 
 The Sabbath and its Services, 
 
 Confirmation, 
 
 The Lord's Supper ' 
 
 Death, Burial, and Resurrection, 
 
 4. Earth-written Names, 
 
 5. I'll follow Thee, .*.'.*.'.'."."."." ^^ 
 
 6. Afloat, ^^ 
 
 1. Christian Friendship, ^^ 
 
 8. The Narrow Way, ^^ 
 
 9. Invitation to Early Piety, ^^ 
 
 10. Sabbath Morning Hymn 
 
 11. Sabbath Evening Hj^mn 
 
 12. ' Lord, teach us to pray,' ^^ 
 
 13. The Ocean Sabbath, [[[[ ^^ 
 
 14. A Child of the Kingdom, .'.*.".*.'."..'.' ^^ 
 
 15. The Woman that was a Sinner, ...... 1 .*.'."' * ^^ 
 
 16. Flowers and Ears of Corn, ' ^^ 
 
 1^. Faith, ' 47 
 
 '"" • 49 
 
 1 
 
COSTTENTS. 
 
 !^ 
 
 ! I ,1 
 
 18. Living Tcraplea, 
 
 PAOB. 
 
 60 
 
 21. Tho Christening of tlio First-born, gg 
 
 22. TIio Deatli of the First-born, 59 
 
 23. " Thy will be done," gj 
 
 24. In Memoriam, g„ 
 
 25. " I will not leave you comfortless^" g4 
 
 26. Elegy, ..!.!.!! 66 
 
 2^- ^^'^ .'.;;.'.* 69 
 
 28. Sunset Reflections, !,« 
 
 29. Things Beloved, ^i 
 
 30. The Family Bible, **'*'' ,^3 
 
 3i. Incentives to Praise, ^6 
 
 32. A Mother's Hymn, hh 
 
 33. Bochim, , ,.„ 
 
 34. No more Death, g, 
 
 35. The ^olian Harp, g^ 
 
 36. The Coming Year, gg 
 
 37. Seed-time, gg 
 
 38. Seasons of Prayer, gj 
 
 39. Under tho Snow, 93 
 
 40. In the Troug>i f the Sea, 95 
 
 41. " Bear ye one another's burdens," gg 
 
 42. My Church, '..'.. 101 
 
 43. Smiles and Tears, jqo 
 
 44. Heart Treasures, jq^ 
 
 45. The Proto-martyr, jqq 
 
 46. Light in Darkness, jQg 
 
 47. United Prayer, jj2 
 
 48. Spiritual Longings, Hg 
 
 49. Days that are gone, j jg 
 
 8 
 
 'L 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 60. The Old Man's God, ng"* 
 
 Bl. On to Glory I 122 
 
 62. Homeward bound, 123 
 
 63. To-day and To-morrow, 125 
 
 64. Departing in peace, 127 
 
 66. Looking for the Evening, 129 
 
 56. Night and Morning, 131 
 
 51. Pisgah, 133 
 
 68. The Promised Land, 13g 
 
 59. Is it well ? 138 
 
 DETACHED POEMS. 
 
 R 
 
 1. The Widow of Nain, I43 
 
 2. The Work and the Workers, 151 
 
 3. The Death Signal, I57 
 
 4. The Emigrant's Departure, 159 
 
 (A Scene in Ulster, A. D. 1868.) 
 
 5. Chimes of the Sea, Ig2 
 
 6. Havelock's Grave, igg 
 
 7. Memorial of Macaulay, i^q 
 
 8. On the Decease of the Prince Consort, 173 
 
 (A. D. 1861, JET. 41.) 
 
 9. The Faithful Steward, i'75 
 
 (Written in commemoration of Mr. George Peabody's parting 
 donation of £160,000 to the poor of London, in which city this 
 Christian-minded merchant amassed his vast fortune. The 
 donor was born in Danvers, Massachusetts, U.S., and in humble 
 circumstances.) 
 
 10. On visiting the tomb of the late Rev. J.B. Ob. A. D. 1855. 179 
 
 11. The Pioneers, , 182 
 
 12. Inscription for a Time-piece, , igf, 
 
 9 
 
It 
 
 I 
 
SONGS BY THE WAY. 
 
 THE BEATEN PATH. 
 
 " ThuH Haiti. tI,o Lord. Stniul yo In t!,o wfly«, nnd hoc, and ask for the oJd 
 imtlis. where in tl.o koo.1 way, and walk therein, nud yo shall find rest Ibr 
 your souls."— Jir. vi. IC. 
 
 The sands of life drop day by day, 
 Pilgrim, inquire the heav'n-ward way ! 
 Tread, tread the path that Jesus trod,— 
 The only path that leads to God. 
 
 Oh ! see how many round thee lie, 
 Whose soulless forms are mould'ring nigh ; 
 They rest for ever as they fell, 
 The saved for hcav'n,~thQ lost for hell! 
 
 The patriarchs of ancient years 
 Have journey'd thro' this vale of tears ; 
 Unnumbcr'd saints this path have press'd, 
 With weary feet, and found their rest. 
 
 11 
 
TIIB BEATEN PATH. 
 
 Martyrs have left thoir crimson stains 
 On these rough heights, and thorny plains ; 
 Unawed on earth hy tyrants' frowns, 
 Thoir brows now gleam with living crowns. 
 
 Then murmur not,-" The path is steep. 
 My soul is weary, and must sleep ! '» 
 There scarce is time to pause for breath, 
 There is no sleeping but in death. 
 
 Complain not that the way is drear. 
 Full of suffering, full of fear ; 
 But, haltmg Christian, ope thine eyes ! 
 The thorns are flowers in disguise. 
 
 What joy lies hid 'neath gushing tears ! 
 What i.opes beam bright 'mid darkest fears ! 
 And, ah ! when worldly cares increase. 
 What blessed springs of heav'niy peace ! 
 
 On, fainting pilgrim ! onward go ! 
 Look not for pleasure here below ! 
 Deem not this earth a place of rest. 
 But seek a Saviour's loving breast ! 
 
 12 
 
THE WALK WITH GOD. 
 
 " And BnMh walkod with God: and bo WM not; for God took him. 
 Otn. r. 84. 
 
 How solacing amid the cares 
 Which Earth's defil(id bosom boars, 
 To have some loved companion nigh, 
 Each pang to soothe — each tear to dry ! 
 One on whose never-faiUng breast 
 The weary head may peaceful rest ; 
 One who our joys will gladly share, 
 And, when our wounded hearts we bare, 
 Will bend with ever ready ears, 
 And weep with sympathetic tears, 
 At that accumulated woe 
 Which makes the spirit overflow. 
 No earthly gloom is then so deep 
 But, star-Hke, joys will thro' it peep ; 
 No path so desolate and drear. 
 But flowers of comfort blossom near ; 
 Whilst even sin's profound abyss 
 Is spann'd by hope of future bliss, 
 As he, like messenger of grace. 
 Leads us to seek the Father's face. 
 
 But where such love devoted gain — 
 Such sweet companionship obtam ? 
 
 13 
 
\l* 
 
 TnE miK WITH OOD. 
 Can wo on earth sucli lovo socuro 
 Am Hhall thro' all its trialn cnduro- 
 Provide a balm for ov'iy ^mof— 
 Moot ovVjr want with (,uielc roiief ? 
 Ah ! earthly fVicndship oft will fail 
 
 When dark and threat'nin^.Htorm« prevail; 
 And thoHo who sou^rht us when the view 
 
 <^Vd bright with beams whieh Fortune threw, 
 
 Will leave us erush'd and trampled down, 
 
 When Htern Adversity doth frown ; 
 
 When men our names with moekei^ greet 
 
 And tread our fame beneath their feet 
 
 How hard from friends of happier days 
 
 lo meet the false and stony gaze 
 
 Wliich tells of kindnesses forgot, ' 
 
 And eoldly says* I know you not!' 
 
 And e'en with those who true abide 
 
 Whom nought eould tempt or fright'aside; 
 ^ en if of such a little band 
 
 Should seek to stretch a welcome hand, 
 
 Or strive our wounded hearts to bind. 
 
 And cheer us with their accents kind': 
 
 How oft some intercepting thm<r 
 
 Prevents the aid they fain would bring! 
 
 Now 'tis the distance vast between— 
 
 Now the dark waves that intervene : 
 
 14 
 
nm WALK wTTn god. 
 
 Those floparato o*en bosom friends, 
 
 And mar the solace Friendship sends. 
 
 Somotiinos the heart on which wo lean 
 
 In ov'ry woo or sorrow keen, 
 
 Itself, all crush'd and hhuMlinf?, lies 
 
 Neodinnr our own deep sympathies ; 
 
 And all unable to uispiro 
 
 The peace and comfort wo rcquiro. 
 
 Each ha:i his diff'rent path in life; 
 
 Each has his own en^^rossin;^ strife ; 
 
 And friends, Uke streams by headland parted, 
 
 Must oft, foriom and heavy-hearted. 
 
 Pursue their course, with sadden'd tone. 
 
 And thread Earth's wilderness alone. 
 
 And e'en when fond companions meet 
 To soothe with kindly Avords and sweet, 
 How many cares lie dark and deep- 
 How many Avoes the spirit steep 
 
 Which ])urdcn'd souls cannot reveal, 
 Nor ministering Friendship heal ! 
 Yes, there are wounds that thrill too much 
 To bear the tend'rest human touch ; 
 Known to the heart its bitterness — (^) 
 None else can fathom its distress ! 
 But blessed they who, while they treac 
 This earth, with doubts and dangers spread, 
 
 (1) Prov. xiv. 10. 
 15 
 
1 
 
 TirB WALK WITH OOD. 
 
 Can yot lift up to yonder Hkios 
 
 Their aching hearts and Htreaming ojei, 
 
 And see, the girwmy darkncHH thro*, 
 
 A Fattier, Friend, Companion too ; 
 
 And who, with faith and pationoo shod, 
 
 Have learned botimoa to walk with God f 
 
 When man their burden cannot nharo, 
 
 The « everliutin^f arms ' are there : 
 
 Wliatevcr friends bo torn away, 
 
 That ' Friend of friends ' shau'ever stay ; 
 
 The world may oft our hearts estrange, 
 
 But His affection knows no change. 
 
 No oceans can from Him divide ; 
 
 No distance keep Him from our side ; 
 
 His loving eyes shine on our way, 
 
 And follow us where'er wo stray. 
 
 Ho knows the secrets of the soul— 
 
 Ho marks each wave of sorrow roll ; 
 
 And sees each gnawing inward care 
 
 Which feeds upon the quiet there. 
 
 Ho marks each sinful thought and deed, 
 
 Which made His Son incarnate bleed; * 
 
 And sees the misery and pain 
 
 That ever follow in their train. 
 
 Ho views the daily conflict waged, 
 
 The so'O from earth more disengaged ; 
 
 He imyr, rho ffrv-an— the deep-drawn sigh- 
 
 The Ti-:,fi ^f taith— the tearful eve : 
 
 16 
 
tW WMSM WITH (JOD. 
 
 And, 08 Ilia tender mul doth molt, 
 lie hftHteg to mnke His pro8crn;c folt. 
 Before IliH cloiid.<IiHpollin;^ Hmilo, 
 Flee earth's .hirk ciireH and Satan'n guUo ; 
 Th<» pilgrim, Inte hy gloom opproggM, 
 All faint, perplexM, and deejMH.strc88'd, 
 Now 8008 around a cheering light 
 And feels a superhmnan inight, 
 And, aa the ruder tenipesta cease, 
 Soll-hreathing 2e])h)rr8 whisper peace. 
 
 Oh, walk, my soul, in that swoot way 
 That loads to everlasting day ! 
 Sot not thy heart on things hclow, 
 Look not for wreaths earth can bestow ; 
 But covet that enduring treasure. 
 
 Sock that uiialloytM pleasure, 
 
 That rest which for the just remains, 
 Whore Jesus now in glory reigns ! 
 Walk like to him, the saint of old, 
 Who, now among the bless'd enroH'd, 
 These weary wilds once meekly trod, 
 And early lov'd to < walk ivith God: 
 Walk thus, that when upon thy sight 
 Death comes, enwrapt in gloom of night. 
 Thy Lord may banish all alarms. 
 And ' take thee ' to His loving arms. 
 
 IT 
 
CnURCH-MEMBERSIIIP. 
 I. 
 
 I saw a little infant child 
 Borne up the sacred aisle ; 
 
 I mark'd the father's look of pride, 
 The mother's happy, smile. 
 
 The pastor stood beside the font, 
 And took that little one 
 
 All tenderly within his arms. 
 As Jesus would have done : 
 
 He sprinkled on its brow the sign 
 Of God's renewing grace. 
 
 And gave it in the church of Christ 
 A title and a place. 
 
 It was a touching sight to see. 
 And, oh ! it thrill'd me through 
 
 To think not only we ourselves. 
 But our dear children too. 
 
 Might enter into covenant 
 
 With Him who reigns above- 
 Drink deeply of His saving grace, 
 And share His tender love. 
 
 1 a 
 
CnURCn-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 •t; l(»r 
 
 n. 
 
 ..-> 
 
 " Lord, I have lovod tlio habitation of thy houBo, and the place wliore 
 W*i« honour dwolloth, "—7'»a/m nxvi. 8. 
 
 i 
 
 Again I sought that holy place. 
 And look'd for that sweet child ; 
 
 Upon his fresh and joyous face, 
 Some dozen springs had smil'd : 
 
 It was a calm, bright Sabbath-day, 
 God's worshippers were there ; 
 
 And, 'mid the rest, I saw his lips 
 Move in responsive pray'r. 
 
 I heard he was a wayward child. 
 
 With spirit high and bold— 
 With temper full of gen'rous warmth, 
 
 Yet scarce to be contrulFd : 
 
 Headstrong at times, yet easy led 
 
 By accents soft and kind, 
 From those round whom his youthful heart 
 
 With fond aflfection twin'd. 
 
 From such, e'en in his stormiest mood, 
 
 One single look of pain 
 Would oft subdue his stubborn will, 
 
 And make him mild a (ram, 
 
 19 
 
CIIURCn-MEMBERSniP. 
 
 They told mo too < 'twas passing strange 
 The deep, warm love he felt 
 
 For God's sweet Sabbath, and the House 
 In which Ills honor dwelt.' 
 
 It was no longer strange to mo 
 
 Who saw him worship there, 
 And how he clasp'd his mother's hand, 
 
 And join'd with her in pray'r. 
 
 No wonder that he lov'd that spot- 
 That holj, happy day ; 
 
 He aearer seem'd to her he priz'd 
 When earth was far away. 
 
 III. 
 
 -:r;:::^".^r:Lr.:-- -^ i con.. 
 
 I look'd again within that Church- 
 More years had roll'd away— 
 
 Its sacred doors are open'd wide, 
 Again 'tis Sabbath-day : 
 
 Fast-gath'ring crowds come pouring in, • 
 
 And soon its courts they fill ; 
 Whilst over all deep awe is spread, 
 
 And ev'ry lip is still. 
 
CIimiCn-MEMBERSIIIP. 
 
 Tliere stands the pastor, he who feeds 
 
 The flock of Jesus there, 
 And, by his side, a holy man 
 
 With kind, yet rev'rend air. 
 
 There, set apart, is rang'd a group, 
 With meek heads bending low 
 
 In solemn thought, — and there I see 
 My friend of long ago. 
 
 My heart was anxious for the youth, 
 
 I knew his temper wild — 
 I knew that mother's hand no more 
 
 Was nigh to guide her child ; 
 
 And thank'd my God, though she had left 
 Earth's cares for Heaven's joy. 
 
 The Church had still a mother been 
 To that poor orphan boy. 
 
 She sought him out with loving eye. 
 When youth is prone to stray. 
 
 And led his wav'ring feet once more 
 To tread the narrow way ; 
 
 And now the vows which others breath'd 
 
 For him, in days long flown, 
 Are ratified before the world. 
 
 And firmly made his own. 
 
 21 
 
CnURCn-MEMBERSirip. 
 
 With pray'rs and Llcsnin;. on his head, 
 
 (>od's aidin^r ^r,.aco within, 
 He got. to fi^rht the Christian's fi^dit— 
 
 The Christian's cro>vn to win. (•) 
 
 IV. 
 
 o/'clrj' ^^ '"^^^^"^ ^■•-" - »>'-. i« it not t,.o co..„n,on of t„o Uooa 
 
 ■J'lio brond whicli wo break in it n,.ttu 
 
 For wo ..oin,. many arlonn / T '"'""'""'«» "' ".o bo.Iy of ChrLst? 
 '••• that o.,o broar^i "r X ij"? "'' ""'^ '•"'^•- ^^ -« «ro a], partakers 
 
 " Tbis do in roniombrancc of mo/'-Zu*, xxJi. 19. 
 
 Ah ! 'tis no easy warfare tliat, 
 
 Wliich he was call'd to wage, 
 Manj and fierce the foes which round 
 
 The youthful soldier rage ; 
 
 And there are traitors in the camp, 
 
 Base thoughts the soul within, 
 With evil passions and desires, 
 
 And longings after sin ; 
 
 And, ah ! the flesh is weak, although 
 
 The will may yet be strong, (2) 
 And oft when striving for the right. 
 
 We yield to what is wrong. (*) ' 
 
 (1) H Tim. iv. 7, 8. (2) Afatt. xxvi. 41. (3) Jia,n. vii. 21-23. 
 
 22 
 
CnURCn-MEMBERSniP. 
 
 What wonder then that soon I saw 
 The young ' confirmM ' draw near 
 
 To that sweet * supper of our Lord,* 
 To fainting souls so dear. 
 
 Ilis quiv'ring lip and tearful eye 
 Proclaim'd that faith was there, 
 
 And yet upon the fair young brow 
 Were signs of holy care : 
 
 He had much wand'ring to regret, 
 
 Much sin to be forgiv'n ; 
 And oft he mourn'd himself unfit 
 
 For blessedness in Heav'n. 
 
 It was not the material food 
 
 For which his spirit sigh'd, 
 But that celestial meat and drink 
 
 Which there were typified : 
 
 The cleansing blood from Jesus' side — 
 The sweet and Heav'nly Bread — 
 
 By which the soul 's renew'd and wash'd, 
 And for the Kingdom fed. 
 
 He came in deepest penitence, 
 He knelt in fervent pray'r — 
 
 And none return thence unrcfresh'd 
 Who thus seek Jesus there ! 
 28 
 
CHURCII-AfEMBEIlSnrp. 
 
 V. 
 
 I saw him last beneath that roof, 
 
 In springtide of the year ; 
 The sunbeams pour'd a goldln flood 
 
 W %ht upon his bier; 
 
 The very Churchyard seem'd to smile 
 
 Above her mould'ring bones, 
 And ^iM-flo.,'rs twin'd their fragrant arms 
 
 Around her mossy stones. 
 
 But, ah !• the mourners gather'd there 
 
 But httle solace drew 
 ^rom all her sweet and winning looks-- 
 
 Their grief was yet too new. 
 
 And yet it seem'd to me Vas meet 
 
 To bear him to his rest, 
 When Nature look'd her loveliest. 
 
 And Earth was gayest drest : ' 
 
 My sadden'd thoughts were led to dwell 
 
 On brighter days in store. 
 When anguish shall not wring the heart. 
 
 And death shall slay no more : 
 
 21 
 
< though he 
 »Xl. 26,38. 
 
 CnURCU-MEMBERSniP. 
 
 Wlicn lifeless formg, bestow'd in faitli 
 
 Beneath the verdant sod, 
 Shttll live again, and, glorified, 
 
 Surround the throne of God. 
 
 Sleep on, material frame of one 
 Now flown above the skies ! 
 
 Sleep, till the trumjjets' wak'ning note 
 Shall summon thee to rise ! 
 
 The Church in which thy parents first 
 
 Their child to Jesus gave, 
 Shall stand a faithful sentinel, 
 
 Beside thy silent grave ; 
 
 And who shall tell, 'ere yet ye both 
 
 Have sunk into decay, 
 But thou may'st see the glorious light 
 
 Of Resurrection-day ? 
 
 25 
 
li 
 
 ml 
 
 EARTH-WRITTEN NAMES. 
 
 I saw a shipwrockVl mariner 
 Cast on a sra-beat shore ; 
 Wounded and cliill, he sunk to sleep 
 
 To wake on earth no more ; 
 But ere his ransom'd spirit flew 
 
 To its eternal home, 
 His dying fingers on the strand 
 Traced out his name and doom. 
 
 But, ah! that record, brief and sad, 
 No mortal eye could see ; 
 
 The billows wiped it out, and bore 
 His lifeless corpse to sea : 
 
 His comrades trod the very spot 
 Whence fled his spirit fleet— 
 
 They knew not of the parting words 
 He wrote beneath their feet. 
 
 I saw a mighty prince uprear 
 
 A monumental stone, 
 Inscrib'd with deeds of glory wrought^ 
 
 With trophies proudly won ; 
 I marked the flush upon his cheek— 
 
 The kindling ofhis eye— 
 
 The glance ofhigh defiance cast 
 On land, and sea, and sky. 
 
 26 
 
lABTII- WRITTEN NAMES. 
 
 But, lo ! tho tompcst rent its base, 
 
 And cleft its shaft in twain, 
 Till now tho puzzled traveller seeks 
 
 Its history in vain ; 
 For time's defacing hand hath swept 
 
 That proud inscription o*er, 
 And none can tell whose bones lie hid 
 
 Beneath that ruin hoar. 
 
 So perish those whoso fleeting names 
 
 And man-applauded worth, 
 Are written but by mortal hands 
 
 On records of tlie earth ; 
 Who, for tho fading things of Time, 
 
 Forsake a Saviour's lovo, 
 And seek no name, no place within 
 
 The Book of Life above. 
 
 But, oh ! how blessed they who feel 
 
 That they are number'd there, 
 "With saints now crown'd with living light 
 
 And free from worldly care ; 
 With those redeem'd from ev'ry land 
 
 Where Heav'n's bright light is spread — 
 Whose names and worth shall live and shine 
 
 When time and earth are fled. 
 
 St 
 
I'LL FOLLOW THEE I 
 
 !7''' ' '"" ""''■'". "-vVrinR, weak, 
 
 ■lliy grncioua favor I l,ea,,«ak • 
 
 I Imvo no Htronstl, ,„ ,ta,„l aIn„o, 
 
 Wmt mi.^>t r l,avo i.s all Thine own ; 
 
 Yot, through the stonus .hut round mo ra-o- 
 
 1 .ro.,«h errin. youth and foobl. ago- 
 
 Jl.-u«l, evVy trial Thou may'at docreo, 
 
 Lord, «,ih Thy holp, r„ fo|,„,, ,i,,,^,^ , ' 
 
 T>.rou«h,„,.s„ff,,enda,andfailin,heaUh- 
 
 J^-ough want of what tho world call, wealth- 
 
 tS' T"'"' »""—'»> -' chain - 
 Through ,„„„^ fi,,,,,^ ,„„. 
 
 Through all the thorn, that strow the way- 
 Through all that te»i,ta the aoul to atray ■ 
 Where'er Thy footprints I may .eo, 
 
 Lord, with Thyhelp, I'll follow a-hoo. 
 
 On through the shadowy vale of death, 
 
 Where mortals yield their parting breath; 
 On through the eold, sepulehral gloom 
 
 Jhat shrouds the horro.^ of the tomb- 
 On through the glitt'ring spheres above 
 
 To glonous realms ofpeaee and love, 
 Where white-robed angels wait for me 
 
 Lord, with Thy help, I'll follow Thee! 
 
 28 
 
AFLOAT. 
 
 " Ho brlngoth tbom unto tin In »l. «lrotl liavon."— r«i/m erU. 30. 
 
 Speeding alon;^ down tho river of Timo, 
 
 Speeding alon-,' to Eternity's sea, 
 A gay little hark, in her beauty and prime, 
 
 Dancing above tho bright ripplos, I sec. 
 
 Tlio sunbeams are gilding tho waters around, 
 And Fancy lights up the bright proaj.ect before ; 
 
 Whilst Ocean seems wrapt in a slumber profound, 
 As light-footed zephyrs glide murm'ringly o'er. 
 
 Take heed, little vessel, bo careful ! beware ! 
 
 Nor tempt without pilot tho treacherous tide ; 
 
 Where tho waters are calmest and brightest, 'tis there 
 
 Too often dark rocks of destruction abide. 
 
 Let not tho soft breezes tow'rds Pleasure's sweet isle, 
 Inflate thy white canvass, and boar thee astray ; 
 
 Lot not Ease and Folly thy senses beguile. 
 But, true as an arrow, speed onward — away ! 
 
 For the winds that now whisper will presently roar, 
 And waken the billows which trancjuilly sleep ; 
 
 Till they rush with wild fury on every shore. 
 And the universe echoes tho wrath of tho deep. 
 
 Be ready ! be vigilant— thoughtful— and true ! 
 
 Place Faith at tho helm, and sot Hope on the mast ; 
 Then dark clouds may gather, and wild waves pursue, 
 
 But thou'lt reach a sure haven of peace at the last. 
 
 29 
 
» 
 
 ciinrsTiAN FniENDsiirp. 
 
 to A VKIUND. 
 
 Oh, what a chann doth Friendship lend to life ! 
 
 How dear a friend when Fortune's 8un!)eams glow » 
 But doaror far when adverse stonuH are rife, 
 
 And sorrow's hillows o'er the bosom How. 
 
 What solace sweet Lis soothin^^ accents bring I 
 Oh, what a bahn attends each pitying tear ' 
 
 And death itself is robb'd of half its stin.^, 
 If friendly forms still fondly linger near. 
 
 The simplest flow'r, if pluck'd by Friendship's hand, 
 From Nature's bright and beautiful parterre, 
 
 Wil lovelier seem, touch'd by Affection's wand, 
 Than all the fairer, costlier beauties there. 
 
 Our friendship's seed sprang forth in boyhood's years 
 ii-re we the rugged paths of life began ; 
 
 Th» unfolding bud maturer age still cheers. 
 And may its blossom bloom upon the man ' 
 
 (1) "As friends j" Prayer Book 
 
 da 
 
 version. 
 
TIIE NARIIOW WAT. 
 
 May each succeeding' day, like IIeav*n*8 bright dow, 
 With Hoft, n'fro.shin^j; influenco descend, 
 
 Aful hid it Hhino lifo'a dreary joiimoy through, 
 Witli hoiglitunM buautica oh wc near thu cad ! 
 
 Tlien, when tlio weary pilgrimage is o*or, 
 Our Houirt, united in the hondH of love, 
 
 On 8eru|)hH* wings triuuipiiantly shall soar 
 And dwell with rapture ui the realms above ! 
 
 THE NAIlllOVV WAY. 
 
 " Strtlt In tho ffftto, Ktui narrow ix tho way, which loadoth unto Ilfo, tud 
 lew there be that Uiid It."— ^Wa«. vU. M. 
 
 Press on ! fresh courage take. 
 Nor let thy feet forsako 
 
 Tho narrow way : 
 Though many a flow'ret fair 
 May bloom in beauty there, 
 
 Oh, let it stay ! 
 
 Though wreath'd in smiles of joy. 
 Vice doth her arts employ ; 
 
 Oh, pass her by ! 
 From pleasures bought by pain — 
 From Folly's gaudy train, 
 
 Avert thine eye. 
 81 
 
THE NARROW WAY. 
 
 lot not Famo, Wealth, nor PowV, 
 Companions of an liour, 
 
 Tcni{)t theo to stray ; 
 FixM be thino eyes above 
 Where beam eternal love 
 
 And perfect diy. 
 
 Thou hast a work to do, 
 A world to travel thro'-— 
 
 A world of pain ; 
 But when thy race is run, 
 And thy blest homo is won, 
 How great thy gain ! 
 
 There bliss and peace abound- 
 There sweetest joys are found. 
 
 And pain 's unknown : 
 There shall thy glad voice ring 
 With Angels, as they sing 
 
 At God's high throne ! 
 
 32 
 
 iHii 
 
INVITATION TO EARLY PIETY. 
 
 "B«mombcr now thy Creator in the days of thy youth."— £cc. xli. 1. 
 
 In childhood's bright May-morning, 
 In manhood's dawning prime, 
 
 Obey the sacred warning, 
 And seek thy God in time ! 
 
 Though all around be gladness — 
 
 Thy youthful heart be light, 
 And tears of pain and sadness 
 
 Have never dimm'd thy sight ; 
 
 Though yet thy cheek be glowing 
 With health's bright rosy beam. 
 
 And life's fair tide be flowing 
 With clear, untroubled stream ; 
 
 Let not these blessings given 
 
 Excite thy spirit's pride, 
 Nor let thy heart be driven 
 
 From thy dear Saviour's side ! 
 
 On earthly joys and pleasures. 
 Oh, place not thou thy trust ! 
 
 These are but fleeting treasures — 
 True joys are with the just ! 
 
 33 
 
 I 
 
SABBATH MORNING HYMN. 
 
 Disease may soon steal o'er thee, 
 And sickness pale thy bloom ; 
 
 Bright hopes may fade before thee- 
 Thy simahine turn to gloom; 
 
 Misfortune, pain, and sorrow, 
 
 May blight the gayest heart- 
 The closing of the morrow 
 
 The thread of life may part: 
 But Death no terror bringeth 
 
 To the soul that heavWard hies,- 
 Gladstramsofjoyitsingeth, 
 
 As it cleaves the starry skies! 
 
 SABBATH MORKING HYMN. 
 
 * (For the Young.) 
 
 Though I am but a little child, 
 
 ril seek God's house of pra/r; 
 On little children Jesus smil'd. 
 
 And loves to see them there. 
 His gentle, patient, loving face* 
 
 On earth I may not see ; 
 
 But I can, at tile throne of grace, 
 Seek Him w^ . died for me. 
 
SABBATH MORNING UYMN. 
 
 My heart shall, like the fruitful ground, 
 
 Receive His holy will ; 
 His Gospel's sweet and sacred sound 
 
 My ransom'd soul shall thrill : 
 My joyful lips shall sing His praise. 
 
 As all His love I see, 
 And hymns of loud thanksgiving raise 
 
 To Him who died for me. 
 
 « 
 
 And when, without His sacred walls, 
 
 I tread life's thorny way, 
 Whene'er my God, or duty calls, 
 
 I'll cheerfully obey : 
 Whatever path He bids me tread, 
 
 This shall my beacon be — 
 Though clouds may gather overhead — 
 
 " My Saviour died for me I " 
 
 Then, when my pilgrimage is done. 
 
 And life's last day is o'er, 
 The narrow gateway will be won, 
 
 And sorrow be no more : 
 For in His kingdom, face to face, 
 
 The Saviour I shall see ; 
 And in His glorious visage trace 
 
 Jesus, who died for me. 
 
 3S 
 
SABBATH EVENING HYMN. 
 
 (For tho Young.) 
 
 Lord, the light is fading fast- 
 Tho darkness coming on ; 
 
 Another day of grace is past; 
 
 Another Sabbath gone ! 
 How have I kept Thy holy day ? 
 
 Have I my soul defil'd ? 
 Have I forgot, in any way, 
 
 That I am Jesus' child ? 
 
 Ah ! yes, Lord, my restless mind 
 
 Too oft was turn'd from Thee, 
 And often did the Tempter find' 
 
 Some weaker part in me ; 
 Too often were my careless feet 
 
 Prom Heav'n and Thee beguii'd • 
 But, Father, still, in mercy sweet, ' 
 Look on Thy erring child ! 
 
 Pardon each vain, unchristian thought- 
 Each sinful word and deed ; 
 
 And make me seek Thee as I ought, 
 And feel how deep my need : 
 
 Bow down my stubborn will to Him 
 Who still'd the tempest wild ; 
 
 And let my faith, though often dim. 
 Still mark me Jesus' child ; 
 
 36 
 
LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY. 
 
 That when the last great Sabbath day 
 In fadeless splendor breaks, 
 
 My soul may wing its heav'nward way, 
 As it to glory wakes ; 
 
 And, one amid that joyous throng 
 In garments undefil'd, 
 
 May praise the love in endless song, 
 
 • That made me Jesus' child. 
 
 LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY. 
 
 LvJce xi. 1. 
 
 At smile of Morn, at frown of Night — 
 
 Throughout the busy day. 
 Acknowledging Thy sov'reign might. 
 
 Oh, teach us. Lord, to pray ! 
 
 In poverty, or ease, or wealth, 
 'Neath Fortune's fickle ray. 
 
 In hours of sickness or of health, 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 Not only, breathing words, to kneel, 
 
 With hearts still far away ; 
 But, fir'd with holy love and zeal. 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 37 
 
lOIlD, THi^CH US TO PRAT. 
 
 For Bwoet forgiveness of the paslr-. 
 
 Each lost or mis-«pont day; 
 Por mercy, siiould this bo our laat,- 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to praj I 
 
 For grace our wand'rin; ^ 
 To break from Satan's y, 
 
 And live in peace before Thy face,— 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 Por strength to follow Christ, our Guide 
 To tread His thorny way— 
 
 To stem the force of Pleasure's tide,— 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray I 
 
 ViTace, 
 
 That we may live a life of pray'r, 
 And serve Thee night and day'; 
 
 And when 'tis o'er. Thy glory share,- 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 38 
 
THE OCEAN SABBATH. 
 
 " He makoth the storm a etlm, so th«t the wBTei thereof are still 
 Tben aro tboy glad bccauio they bo quiot."— i'taim ovU. V, 80. 
 
 *Tia sabbath on the Ocean, — 
 
 How solemn, yet how sweet ! 
 Here only sky and water 
 
 Around the pilgrim meet ; 
 Yet what a noble temple, 
 
 And what a holy calm — 
 The very breeze seems burden'd 
 
 With the words of some sweet psalm. 
 
 'Tis sabbath on the Ocean, — 
 Above her thousand graves 
 
 She slumbers, as if Jesus 
 Had luird her heaving waves ; 
 
 Whilst e'en the ruder spirit 
 Of man is charm'd to rest, 
 
 As earth-bom cares are banish'd 
 
 
 
 J. VCSQll 
 
 9d 
 
I 
 
 THE OCEAN SABBATII. 
 
 'Tifl sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 How soft on wind and wave, 
 The notes of that blest Gospel 
 . Wliich God in mercy gave ! 
 How tenderly they call us 
 
 From scenes of earthly strife, 
 To seek, within His kingdom, 
 Unfading crowns of life ! 
 
 'Tis sabbath on the Ocean,— 
 
 How sweet, God ! to find. 
 Though. /w we has faded from us. 
 
 Thou art not left behind ; 
 But still art present with us, 
 Amid life's saddest hours, 
 To typify so sweetly 
 The peace of Heaven's bow'rs ! 
 
 'Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 She has her darker moods. 
 And o'er the human spirit 
 
 The storm-cloud often broods ; 
 But now we may together 
 
 Enjoy a brief repose — 
 Together feel the presence 
 
 Of Him from whom it flows. 
 
 40 
 
A CHILD OP THE KINGDOM. 
 
 'Tis 8al)l)ath on the Ocean, — 
 
 Bless God, my soul ! for this, 
 And ov'ry blessed foretaste 
 
 Of that far higher bliss, 
 Which waits the wayworn wand'rcr 
 
 Across the swollen tide, — 
 That bliss for which the Saviour 
 
 Waa born, and bled, and died. 
 
 A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. (') 
 
 " Of such is the Kingdom of Qod."—Mark x. 14. 
 
 Youthful Pilgrim, come away ! 
 
 Soon thine earthly journey *s done ; 
 By the dawning light of day. 
 
 Thou thy heav'nly home hast won. 
 Few have been life's cares for thee — 
 
 Thine a flow'ry path to tread ; 
 Few the thorns thme eyes could see — 
 
 Few the storms above thy head. 
 
 (1) Tho subject of these verses was a beloved pupil of the Author; and 
 was remarkable for his pious, obedient, and affectionate character. U« 
 
 
 41 
 
A CHIU) or TUB KIJjrUDOM. 
 
 Youthful Soldier of tljo croiw, 
 
 Lay thino untried wcapoua dowu 
 Thino the gain without the lo»*— 
 
 Thino an eaey-purchaa'd orown ! 
 Short thy strife with deadly foe^ 
 
 Few the hardships laid on thoe ; 
 Few the mournful notes of woo 
 
 Ere the shouts of yictory. 
 
 Tender Lamb of Jesus' fold, 
 
 Come ! it is thy Shopiiord's voice ; 
 Oomo ! His loving face behold— 
 Seek Ilia bosom, and rejoice ! 
 Nought can vex or harm theo there- 
 Nought can tear thee forth again ; 
 Through sweet pastures, bright and fair, 
 Thou Shalt foUow in His train. 
 
 Young Disciple of the Lord, 
 
 Earthly studies now are o'er ; 
 Thou Shalt hear God*s holy word 
 
 From lips of mortal man no more 
 But there's a happy, holy place, 
 
 Fill'd with blessed saint? above ; 
 There shall Jesus, face to face, 
 
 Shew thee of His boundless love. 
 
 43 
 
XUM WOMAN THAT WAS A 8ZNHEB. 
 
 Weary PilKrim now at roat— 
 
 Soldier at tlio Conq'ror's board — 
 Lamb witbiii Uio Shupherd*^ broaot— • 
 
 LuvM Dboiplti with Uiy Lord : 
 Such 18 now thy glorious lot, . 
 
 Such for over ahall it be ; 
 Cloudi} of earth ctwi dim it not — 
 
 Thou art iu Etoniity ! 
 
 THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER, 
 
 j:<uJlr«TU.8ato60. 
 
 Low at the Saviour's feet 
 
 A guilty sinner bonds ; 
 Up to his loving face 
 
 A tearful glance she sends : 
 t " Can one, Himself so pure, 
 
 Of lineage so high, 
 The loathsome sight onduro 
 
 Of one so vile as I ?" 
 
 Around His weary feet 
 
 Her loving arms are cast, 
 Whilst tears of sorrow sweet 
 
 T7a11 a'^i* fKorri fliinV artA fj>flf. • 
 
 _ . — . . .. -,_ ^......_ ^. ..>.._ .^..._ %«M*^w m 
 
 J«, \%M M '^ V « 
 
 W» i, • "«^ • ^ S.* • 
 
 48 
 
TUB WOMAN THAT WAfl A HWm. 
 
 Hit long aiul flowing liair— 
 Tho prido of wormm's cyo, 
 In not esteom'd too fair 
 
 To cleaiiHo and wi|)e them dry. 
 
 * 
 
 How dotli each warm caresa 
 Her elinging Iip8 impart, 
 In language muto express 
 
 The yeanlings of her heart ! 
 That ointment rich and rare 
 
 Her poverty could bring— 
 Its o^Jours sweet declare 
 'Tis no mean offering. 
 
 Tlio Pharisee and Scribe, 
 Exalted in their pride. 
 Can gaze in silent acorn, 
 
 Or turn their eyes aside ; 
 Can gather up their robes. 
 And feign a pious fear. 
 Lest they should be dofil'd 
 E'en by her passing near ; 
 
 But from " the Sinner's Friend "— 
 Her gracious, loving Lord-— 
 
 No scornful looks descend, 
 No proud, no angry word ; 
 
 44 
 
WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNKR. 
 
 *' Can ho a propliet bo," 
 
 Their wond'ring looku would say— 
 ** And fliiflfcr such oa she 
 
 Within IliH Might to stay ?" 
 
 ♦* Yofl, sepulchres of sin ! 
 
 Who, whited fairly o'er, 
 Are dark and fuul within, 
 
 And rotten at tho core ; 
 Yos, His keen gaze can pierce 
 
 Each human bosom through, 
 And to His searching eyes 
 
 She's purer far than you ! 
 
 ** She whom tho rigliteous spurn — 
 
 Whom Publicans revile — 
 Whom sin's most loathsome marks 
 
 Deface, degrade, defile ; 
 Though on her guilty soul 
 
 Bo many a deep, foul stain, 
 Her faith in Jesus' blood 
 
 Shall wash it pure again ! 
 
 " But you — your lengthy pray'rs, 
 
 Hypocrisy and pride, 
 Long robes and public alms, 
 
 Your God will not abide : 
 4S 
 
THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER. 
 
 You have jrour poor reward 
 In Tnm's approving look, 
 
 But His indignant wrath 
 Such insult cannot brook." 
 
 " Proud host, to thy high guest 
 
 No water gavest thou ; 
 Thou gavest Him no kiat 
 
 On pallid cheek or brow ; 
 Not even oUv« oil 
 
 Didst thou vouchsafe to shed, 
 In sweetlynsoothing streams. 
 Upon that hoij head. 
 
 ** But she, with gushing tears, 
 Hath washM His wayworn feet ; 
 
 And hath not ceasM to press 
 Fond kisses soft and «weet : 
 
 With those faii^flowing locks. 
 Which grace her downcast head, 
 
 Those feet were fondlj dried— 
 With rarest ointment spread." 
 
 '* Ye Pharisaic tribe, 
 
 Who boast yourselves so clear 
 From sin's pollutmg stains. 
 
 Look to your souls, and fear ! 
 
 4$ 
 
FLOWERS AND EARS OF CORN, 
 
 Ye feel no need of mercy, 
 But claim a place above ; 
 
 And thus for Christ, your Saviour, 
 How little is your love ! 
 
 " But ye who, bow'd with sin, 
 
 Have counted Jesus dear, 
 Ye in whose hearts the streams 
 
 Of love run deep and clear, — 
 Look, penitents, to Heaven ! 
 
 The Saviour loveth such — 
 * To you much is forgiven, 
 
 For you have lov^d much !' '* 
 
 FLOWERS AND EARS OF CORN. 
 
 " Ye shall know them by their fTVdiM."—Matt. vii. 16. 
 
 A fair young boy, in the fragrant breath 
 Of a glowing Autumn mom, 
 
 Twin'd for hunself a graceful wreath 
 Of flowers and ears of com. 
 
 4? 
 
FLOWERS AND EARS OP CORN. 
 
 Proudly he placed the fillet he made 
 'Mid his waving golden hair, 
 
 And sported about o'er hill and glade 
 With a happy, joyous air. 
 
 But soon the sun with its burning ray 
 Pour'd down on the fair hill-side ; 
 
 Till weary with heat, and tir'd of play, 
 He cast the wreath aside. 
 
 The flow'rs soon lost their delicate bloom 
 Beneath the ocorching sun ; 
 
 And soon they paled and wither'd away, 
 And perish^ one by one: 
 
 But on the ears of corn, it seems. 
 
 Its fierceness fell in vain ; 
 For it only ripen'd them with its beams. 
 
 And turn'd them into grain. 
 
 Thus fade, thought I, ihe many vows, 
 
 Array'd in seeming truth, 
 Which shine like flow'rs upoL the brows 
 
 Of gay and thoughtless youth ; 
 
 48 
 
FAITH. 
 
 They will not bear the scorching sun 
 That tries them day by day ; 
 
 But speedily wither, one by one, 
 And die, and fall away. 
 
 But holy deeds, the fruits of faitn, 
 And done in Christian love — 
 
 These only ripen beneath the breath 
 Of the sun which gleams above ; 
 
 Till at last the joyful Harvest-home 
 O'er earth's wide fields shall reign, 
 
 And troops of angel-reapers come 
 To gather the golden grain. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 (Impromptu.) 
 
 See yonder snowy bird, silently winging 
 
 O'er the dark waters her joyous way ! 
 Fearless she sleeps where their murmurs are ringing. 
 
 And pillows her head 'mid the silvery spray. 
 
 Teach us thus. Lord, in this world of commotion — 
 Daily derivmg fresh courage from Thee — 
 
 Like the sea-bird which sports 'mid the roar of the ocean, 
 As fearless, as trusting, as cheerful to be ! 
 
 49 n 
 
LIVING TEMPLES. 
 
 
 How fair, in page of Holy Writ, 
 
 Judea's Temple stands ! 
 'Twas God himself who fashion'd it 
 
 By means of mortal hands : 
 'Twas He conceiv'd the grand design— 
 
 The gates— the massive wall ; 
 The outer courts— the inner shrine— 
 
 The " Holiest of all." 
 
 Majestical it rose beneath 
 
 The Master-builder's eye, 
 And soon, within its courts, the breath 
 
 Of incense rose on high ; 
 While priests, by altars stain'd with blood, 
 
 Were loud in praise and pray'r, 
 And over all Shechinah stood 
 
 To snew that God was there. 
 
 60 
 
LIVING TEMPLES. 
 
 That temple charms no more the sight 
 
 Its stones are prostrate laid — 
 Its holy pomp, each solemn rite, 
 
 Were doom'd of old to fade : 
 They were but shadows of the things 
 
 Which Christians now possess — 
 The grey of early dawn which brings 
 
 The Sun of Righteousness. 
 
 But God, our God, has Temples still, 
 
 In which the faithful meet, 
 To hear their loving Master's will. 
 
 And hymn His praises sweet. 
 'Tis there thoir spirits seem to leave 
 
 This world for one above. 
 As they the pledges sweet receive 
 
 Of Jesus' dying love. 
 
 And other Temples yet than these 
 
 God has upon this earth ; 
 'Tis only He, perchance, that sees 
 
 Their unpretending worth. 
 They are not temples built of stone, 
 
 Adorn'd by human skill ; 
 But hearts that ivorship Htm alone, 
 
 And love to do His will, 
 
 51 
 
LIVINO TEMPLES. 
 
 In those still shrines some favVite sin 
 
 Each day a victim dies ; 
 And from those silent courts within 
 
 Sweqt pray'rs, like incense, rise. 
 There dwells a peace, which nought can mar, 
 
 To soothe all earthly pains — 
 There, brighter than Shcchinah far, 
 
 God's blessed Spirit reigns ! 
 
 That Spirit breathes upon the soul. 
 
 And warms it into life ; 
 'Tis ever present to control 
 
 The evil that is rife ; 
 It seals it as a child of grace, 
 
 As one of Jesus' band ; 
 And gives an earnest of the bliss 
 
 Of Heaven's promis'd land. (•) 
 
 (1) Eph. i. 18., U Cor. i. 22. 
 
 62 
 
DELIVER US FROM EVIL. 
 
 Afatt. vl. 13. 
 
 In childhood's bright but fleeting years ; 
 
 In youth's fair Spring — in manhood's prime ; 
 When tott'ring age itself appears, 
 
 With locks all thin and hoar with time : — 
 Do thou, God ! when danger's rife, 
 
 Thy gracious aid at once afford — 
 In ev'ry stage and path of life 
 
 Deliver us from evil, Lord ! 
 
 Where'er Thy will may bid us stray, 
 
 On land, or on the changeful deep ; 
 When 'neath the glorious light of day — 
 
 When in thy care we sink to sleep ; 
 When thieves the midnight silence break — 
 
 When murd'rous fingers grasp the sword- 
 When Satan strives the soul to take — 
 
 Deliver us from evil, Lord ! 
 
 I 
 
 63 
 
r 
 
 LOOK TO JESUS ! 
 
 ' Looking uuto Jmub, .)io author (1) and flaUher of our fBlth."-fli.6. xll. 1 
 
 Child of a lost and guilty raco ! 
 
 With dark, polluted, leprous soul ; 
 An exile from thy Father's face, 
 
 Despising all his fond control, 
 Thy Saviour's haxid can yet deface 
 Of sin's disease each ling'ring trace— 
 
 Oh ! look to Jesus, and be whole ! 
 
 Thou captive spirit ! bound in chains, 
 
 Which Satan's hands have forg'd for thee ; 
 Oh ! shun the agonizing pains 
 Which wait thee in eternity. 
 From dungeon deep, where darkness reigns- 
 Look up to Heav'n ! whilst hope remains, 
 Oh ! look to Jesus, and be free ! 
 
 (1) Marginal reading, the beginner. 
 
 64 
 
LOOK TO JESUS. 
 
 Yo murnrring mortals, bendin;^ low 
 Beneath a load of human ill ; 
 
 Though troubled waters round you flow, 
 And bitter gall your cup may fill ; 
 
 Though num'rous cares may now distress, 
 
 And none be nigh to aid and bless — 
 Look, look to Jesus ! Peace, be still ! 
 
 Ye fainting pilgrims, as ye go 
 
 This earth's sad wilderness along, 
 IIow oft will notes of deepest woo 
 
 Be mingled in your wayside song ! 
 Oft will your strength and vigour fail- 
 Oft will your very spirit quail — 
 But look to Jesus, and be strong ! 
 
 Departing saints, whom death doth call 
 From earth and all its ties to sever ; 
 
 Whatever clouds may round you fall 
 Let faith and courage waver never ! 
 
 Romomber Jesus standeth by — 
 
 Soon shall ye meet his loving eye — 
 Oh, look to Him, and live for ever ! 
 
 ■ 
 
 55 
 
T 
 
 ii 
 
 THE CHRISTENING OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 " For tho proinlw b uuto you, and to your cmdnn."-Aett II. 39. 
 
 " Within God's sacred courts wo bring 
 This day, our dearest earthly thing,— 
 A ' firstrfruit ofTring * to our King, 
 
 In theo, our fii-st-born, Marion ! 
 
 " Thou art, sweet child, a blessing rare, 
 Committed to our tend'rcst care ; 
 But One now claims a higher share, 
 Than I, or mother, Marion ! 
 
 " Thou art not only hers and mine ; 
 Thy baby brow now bears a sign, 
 Which makes thee Christ's and makes Christ thino, 
 My little Christian Marion ! 
 
 " Oh ! may the Spirit's quick'ning pow'r 
 Date thy ' new birth ' from this blest hour, 
 And train thee up a holy flow'r, 
 
 To bloom in Heaven, Marion ! 
 
 " I ask not for thee gems, nor gold. 
 Rare charms, broad lands, nor titles old ; 
 But safe within the Saviour's fold 
 I'd have my little Marion. 
 
 £6 
 
THE CTmiSTENWO OF TITII FTRST-BORN. 
 
 " There, in that ark, my gcntlo dovo, 
 May'nt thou behold that wondrous lovo 
 Which hrou^^ht down Jcaus from ahovo, 
 To save thee, happy Marion 1 
 
 " Swoet charms will then thy spirit grace, 
 More fair than those of form or face, 
 And make thy heart a holy place 
 
 For Christ to dwell in, Marion ! 
 
 " Then should that Saviour summon thee 
 From earth and its delights to flee, 
 E'en in bright hours of infancy, — 
 
 Thou' It still be blest, my Marion ! 
 
 " Or should lie rathe, one by one, 
 Bid father, mother, friends, begone, 
 And leave thee in this world alone, 
 A little mourner, Marion ! 
 
 " Still thou must meekly learn to bend 
 To Ilim from whom such blows descend, 
 And closer cling to that dear Friend 
 
 Who'll never leave thee, Marion ! 
 
 " * I am Christ's, and Christ is mine,' 
 Oh, be this watchword ever thine ! 
 A pillar of light and life divine 
 
 For earth and Heav'n. my Marion ! " 
 67 
 
THE DEATH OF TIFE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 «'I ihBlI K« to hJm. but h« Hh»ll not -turn to mo."_U Sam. xU. M. 
 
 Thoro was a tiny Httlo/(wV 
 
 That MoomM beside our hearth ; 
 It grow, 'mi.l aunHhitio and 'mid show'r, 
 
 A lovely child of oartli ; 
 'Twas awcot to wateli it day by day,— 
 
 To view each op'ning grace, 
 And see the lights and shadows play 
 
 Upon its winsome face. 
 
 There came u little rosy beantf 
 
 And lighted up a homo, 
 So bright and happy then, 'twould seem 
 
 That sorrow could not come ; 
 
 A beam which from the aching heart 
 
 Would ev'ry care beguile, 
 And bid the gath'ring clouds depart 
 
 Before a joyous smile. 
 
 68 
 
Tin? DFATTl Of TITB lTRBT-HnR!f. 
 
 Tlioro wafl a little, wlv*ry wim, 
 
 Bo full of rhildUh gleo, 
 It HoemM U) hid the world rejoice 
 
 And make all nadness floe : 
 ilow softly on tlio summor air 
 
 Its thrilling notes would rest ! 
 And, oh, liow sweet the ochf^es woro 
 
 It woke within the hroast ! 
 
 Tlmt flow*r has past from earth away. 
 
 Its hrief s{)rin;;-tido is o'er ; 
 That rosy hcani has ccasM to play ; 
 
 That voice is heard no more. 
 Its tender notes are hush'd and still 
 
 Which bade our woes depart, 
 And never now can soothe or thrill 
 
 The worn and weary heart. 
 
 But there's a bright, a blessed spot, 
 
 Where thin;^8, for earth too pure, 
 Are dwelling now, without a blot 
 
 Their glory to obscure ; 
 'Tis there that tender Jloiv^r now blows, 
 
 'Tis there that beam doth shine — 
 'Tis there that gentle voice now flows 
 
 In harmonies divine ! 
 
 Q9 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 Wc grieve to miss that little fonn— 
 
 Tho flow'r, the beam, the voice— 
 Which prov'd our comfort in each storm, 
 
 And made our hearts rejoice ; 
 But jet we are content to know 
 
 That she is now at rest, 
 Beyond the pains of earth below, 
 
 Upon her Saviour's breast. 
 
 Si 
 
 We love to think upon her now. 
 
 With Him who lov'd her so 
 That He must guard her infant brow 
 
 From ev'rj line of woe ; 
 We love to think of that blest time. 
 
 When we that home shall gain. 
 And in a brighter, happier clime. 
 
 Embrace our child again. 
 
 ec 
 
'' THY WILL BE DONE I" 
 
 Matt. vl. 10. 
 
 Jehovah ! round Thy starry throne, 
 
 All angels bow the knee ; 
 Archangels know Thy will alone, 
 
 And homage pay to Thee : 
 Then we, who are so little worth. 
 
 Shall we obedience shun ? 
 Like those in Heav'n, may we in earth. 
 
 Exclaim '' Thy will be done !" 
 
 When Hope deceives the trusting heart. 
 
 And leaves it to despair ; 
 When Fortune frowns, and friends depart. 
 
 Too false our woe to share: 
 When sickness bids us leave the goal 
 
 The toil of years hath won, — 
 Oh ! teach us, still, with humbled soul. 
 
 To say " Thy wiU be done !" 
 
 61 
 
 St 'i 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 When Sorrow makes the bosom smart, 
 
 And bids the tear-drop flow ; 
 When Death lets fly his ruthless dart, 
 
 And lays some lov'd one low : 
 Wliate'er our course through life may be- 
 
 A calm or troubled one, — 
 Teach us, Lord, to trust in Thee, 
 
 And say " Thy will be done !" 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 " Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God."-Matt. 
 
 Toll, toll a knell! sad tribute to the dead ! 
 
 Flow on uncheck'd, thou warmly-gushing tear! 
 Above the grave, One, more than human, shed 
 
 Those precious drops, and all are human here. 
 
 How truly Mem'ry pictures to the mind 
 That lovely form, expanding Uke the rose ; 
 
 But chill'dand wither'd by th' unkindly wind. 
 E'er she more ripen'd beauties could disclose ! 
 
 62 
 
 V. 8, 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Dear to the heart the mom which hail'd her birth— 
 The childish sports in which she play'd her part ; 
 
 Her warm affection, and her deeds of worth — 
 Iler heav'nly mind — her purity of heart ! 
 
 These — these are charms undimm'd by Death's dark frown, 
 These — these are flow'rs whose beauty cannot die ! 
 
 These shall entwine around her saintly crown, 
 And bloom eflfulgent thro' Eternity ! 
 
 How sadly, as each wak'ning sun arose, 
 
 We mark'd that visage pale — that form grow weak ! 
 And, as a fair day crimsons at its close. 
 
 So lovelier grew the bloom upon her cheek : 
 
 Whilst that fair constellation of the heart — 
 
 Sweet beaming Hope — dispell'd foreboding fear ; 
 
 But soon its rays did one by one depart, 
 
 We saw — we felt — Death's darksome hour draw near. 
 
 As o'er the mind float visions of the night, 
 And leave us dazzled by the light they shed ; 
 
 So purely, peacefully, serenely bright. 
 Her seraph-spirit on its passage sped ! 
 
 63 
 
IF" 
 
 I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU COMFORTLESS. 
 
 Within the grave her mould'ring frame may rest, 
 And dew-drops sparkle on the verdant sod, 
 
 Yet shall she rise, in spotless garb be drest — 
 In brighter regions shall she " see her Q-od^ 
 
 " I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU OOMFOMTLUSSl " (') 
 
 John xlv. 18. 
 
 Sweet words of comfort and of cheer 
 
 For sorrow-stricken hearts, 
 When from its hidden source the tear 
 
 Of bitter anguish starts ; 
 When clouds of utter hopelessness 
 
 Above us darkly low'r. 
 And through earth^s dreary wilderness 
 
 Blooms not a single flow'r ! 
 
 Ye followers of Him whose head 
 
 No earthly pillow press'd, 
 'Tis yours a rugged path to tread— ^ 
 
 Worn, weary, and distress'd ; 
 And now that He, your Friend,-— your Guide— 
 
 Your Comforter — your all, — 
 Is soon to vanish from your side. 
 
 Well may your spirits fall. 
 
 (1) Marginal reading, "Orphans." 
 
 U 
 
I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU COMFORTLESS. 
 
 Like children reft of father's care, 
 
 Or watchful mother's love, 
 With none on earth those hopes to share 
 
 Which lift your souls above ; 
 There shall be One beside you still 
 
 Who never shall depart — 
 Oh ! let His tender accents thrill 
 
 And animate your heart ! 
 
 " I will not leave you comfortless ! '* 
 
 You shall not wander here. 
 Like orphans, with no sire to bless, 
 
 To counsel or to cheer ; 
 He is your Friend,— your Father still, 
 
 Unseen by mortal eye. 
 His spirit shall your bosom fill. 
 
 And ev'ry need supply ! 
 
 No bitter griefs your hearts can wrinty 
 
 No sin defile your soul — 
 But He can heal their bitter sting, 
 
 And cleanse and make you whole ; 
 The mother may the babe forget, (') 
 
 Which smiles upon her breast— 
 His love shall ne'er grow dim nor set. 
 
 But ever on you rest. 
 
 I 
 
 (1) Isaiah xlix, 15. 
 
 66 
 
jfiLEGY, 
 
 Fear not, disciples of the Lord ! 
 
 His Spirit cheers your way ; 
 He can all grace and strength afford, 
 
 However dark your day : 
 He leads you, by a path unknown, 
 
 To bliss no tongue can tell, 
 "Where anguish makes no bosom groan. 
 
 And nought but joy can dwell. 
 
 ELEGY. 
 
 " I heard a voice from boaven saying unto me, Write, Blosacd arc tho 
 dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : yea, saith tho Spirit, that they 
 may rest from their labours ; and their works do follow thorn."— Rev, xiv. 13. 
 
 ji I 
 
 II 
 
 Weep not for her, whose soul hath fled 
 Beyond this new-rais'd tomb. 
 
 Where Sorrow's tears were freely shed, 
 And Hope seemed lost in gloom ! 
 
 She is not dead — she is not here ! 
 
 But risen to a happier sphere, 
 Where joys eternal bloom. 
 
 66 
 
ELEGY. 
 
 Wocp not for her, wlmso l.looming youth 
 Disease hath worn away ! 
 
 Bather rejoice she < walked in truth,' (•) 
 While yet 'twas early clay ; 
 
 And patiently and humbly trod 
 
 The narrow path that leads to God- 
 That sweet, that holy way. 
 
 Weep not for her ! for she is gone 
 Where tears are never shed • 
 
 Where pain and trouble are not known— 
 Where ev'ry care hath fled ; 
 
 Array'd in snow-white raiment now— 
 
 A crown of glory on her brow- 
 No ! no ! she is not dead ! 
 
 Weep not for her ! her work is done ; 
 
 The cross she meekly bore 
 Is laid aside, her race is run— 
 
 Her holy strife is o'er: 
 Her soul at peace— her sins forgiv'n ; 
 High-placed by Jesus' side in Heav'n— 
 
 Mourner, what would'st thou more ? 
 
 a)III.Ep., John4. 
 
 II 
 
 67 
 
ELEOY. 
 
 Hor*fl was the tnic, the flterling worth, 
 
 That novcr knows decay, 
 Which can hut shed, whilst yot on earth, 
 
 A faint and dawning ray ; 
 But, oh ! when earth and earthly things 
 Have flown away on Time's swift wings, 
 
 It hlazea into day. 
 
 Weep not for her ! coukl she declare 
 The joys that round her reign. 
 
 You would not wish — ^you would not dare 
 To call her back again : 
 
 Ear hath not heard, eye hath not seen 
 
 The glories of that blissful scene, — (') 
 Then let her there remain ! 
 
 And, oh ! remember, ye who love 
 
 Her Heav'n-recorded name, 
 That faith which lifted her above. 
 
 And firmly clasp the same ; 
 Then, come what may of this world's care, 
 You yet shall meet in glory there, 
 .Beyond Tliis earthly frame ! 
 
 (1) Itiaiab Ixiv. i„ 1 Cor. ii. 9, 
 
LIFE. 
 
 *Tl8 sweet to gazo on the broad expanse 
 
 Of the deep and boundless ocean, 
 When the palo moon sheds its tranquil glance 
 
 On its breast, devoid of motion : 
 When each sound is husliM, and not a word 
 
 By unhallowM lip is spoken, 
 And even the searbird's cry 's unheard 
 
 To intrude on the calm unbroken ! 
 
 'Tis awful to SCO the dark waves roll — 
 
 To list to their angry roaring, — 
 The thunder resounding from pole to pole, 
 
 And the rain in torrents pouring: 
 To hear the spars snap, and the timbers creak. 
 
 As they yield to the rushing billow,— 
 The mariner's last, despairing shriek, 
 
 As he sinks to his watery pillow ! 
 
 And such is life ! now joy and peace — 
 
 Now dark, distress'd, and troubled ; 
 Till we reach that haven where storms shall cease, 
 
 And all our joys be doubled. 
 Then, come ! let us cast all fear aside, 
 
 And hope and comfort borrow. 
 For there we jnay safely at anchor ride. 
 
 Having past this sea of sorrow. 
 
 69 
 
I, 
 
 STJNsii;!' KKFLECTIONS. 
 
 ' Whon It In cFonlug, yo «ay, It will bo fair wt-athor; lor tho »ky i« roU." 
 
 Behold the fair Sun, as ho sinks to his rest, 
 
 In boauty ninl brilUancy ;j;l()win^, 
 Gilding each ripple that plays on the breast 
 
 01" the stream that is traiKiuilly flowing. 
 
 His bright course is run, he has gladden'd all hearis ; 
 
 And to each child of nature hath given 
 Fresh strength, and ho now, as ho slowly departs, 
 
 Sheds a promising glow over heaven. 
 
 As we gaze, lot us pause, and consider the deeds 
 
 Of the day, with a careful inspection ; 
 And, as from the mind each dark shadow recedes, 
 
 Let it meet the keen eyes of Hefiection. 
 
 Have we shunn'd what is ill ? have we lov'd what is right ? 
 
 Have we lighten'd one heart of its sorrow ? 
 Has our conduct been such, should wjc perish this night, 
 
 As to promise a blissful to-morrow ? 
 
 70 
 
THINGS BELOVED. 
 
 "Tho workn of tho I^)nl are grogt, souglit out of all tl m that liar<» 
 
 I lov'o tho calm aiul radiant sk^ — 
 
 'I' hose glowing orbs of light, 
 Whicli 'road their silent path on h:;^h, 
 
 And soften frowns of niiihi 
 I lovo each little lustrous star 
 
 A Father's grace hath giv'n ; 
 Thoy seem like angels' eyes afar, 
 
 To ^aze from courts of heav'n. 
 
 I love vast ocean whin it la^-es 
 In peace the pebbly shore ; 
 
 And when its high and crested waves 
 ive out their giant roar 
 
 I love the 8oft, mystorioua sound, 
 With whifh the streamlet 11 jws ; 
 
 'Tis like a pilgrim, lieav'nward bound, 
 A-singiiig as he goes. 
 
 n 
 
''•' -liWl 
 
 TIIIN(JS BELOV 
 
 I lovo the fair aii<l frn^jmt earth, 
 
 Despite it« gloom md care, 
 For iiohlo tletMlH of honoet worth, 
 
 And faith and love are there ; 
 I love the sunbeams 'mid its flow'rs 
 
 Tlio stniinH of woodlutid choir ; 
 The peace which m<^m o'er Sahbuth hour&— 
 
 The music of tlie spire. 
 
 I love fair childhood's beaming smile, 
 
 Its ev'ry winning way ; 
 I love to see it free from guile, 
 
 And full of happy play : 
 But, oh ! 'tis dcck'd with loveliest charms, 
 
 When, like the babes of old. 
 It smiles within the Saviour's arms («) 
 
 A lamb of Jesus' fold. 
 
 I love God's sacred House of Prayer, 
 
 Where kindred spirits meet 
 To bow with adoration there. 
 
 And sit at Jesus' feet : 
 I love the high, and holy psalm — 
 
 The evangelic hymn ; 
 My soul they stimulate or calm. 
 
 Like voice of Cherubim. 
 
 (1) Mark X. 15, 16. 
 
 U 
 
THE FAMILY niDLB. 
 
 But far ahovo tho doarost things 
 
 On tluH attrnctivo hall, 
 To Ilhn my H[)irit fondly olinga 
 
 Who gave and blossod all : 
 To Ilira who, ginful man to free, 
 
 Earth's wilds in sorrow trod — 
 To Him who made, and nmU'th me, (') 
 
 A happy child of Gud. (») 
 
 THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 .xl?^" 1*"^.,^ ^^^ """""' '" *^"*"' ""♦" >"" ♦'''»" thoa«nndii of roM and 
 
 There is a venerable Book, 
 
 On which my infant eyes 
 Would often gaze with mingled look 
 
 Of rov'rence and surprise ; 
 Its very presence seem'd to change 
 
 Or check youth's giddy stream. 
 Yet still it won — 'twas passing strange ! 
 
 My young heart's high esteem. 
 
 (1) Ephos. i. 13, and iv. 30. (2) John 1. 12, 13. 
 
 73 
 
 I 
 
THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 Each morn and eve, at hour of prayV, 
 
 Its holy liglit was pour'd 
 Within the silent chamber, ^hero 
 
 Its Author was ador'd ; 
 And never on my father's face 
 
 Did such sweet rapture dwell, 
 As when its words, so full of grace. 
 
 From him in meekness fell. 
 
 I knew not then their meaning deep, 
 
 But yet the voice was dear. 
 And oft I turn'd aside to weep. 
 
 Or hide the gath'ring tear; 
 As, here and there, some tender truth 
 
 Would thrill my thoughtless heart. 
 And even to the soul of youth 
 
 Its quick'ning pow'r impart. 
 
 But soon that father's voice grew weak,- 
 
 His aged eyes grew dim ; 
 A pallor settled on his cheek— 
 
 'Twas I then read to him ; 
 And oh ! though suflf'ring tried without, 
 
 And storms within grew rife 
 How quickly fled each fear and doubt 
 
 That vex'd his inner life ! 
 74 
 
THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 His pale cheek wore a peaceful bloom, 
 
 As, with Faith's purer sight, 
 He saw , beyond the yawning tomb, 
 
 The saints' blest home in light. 
 Ah ! yes, 'twas then I saw,— 1/<^^^ 
 
 Those truths to be divine. 
 And by that dying form I knelt. 
 
 And pray'd they might be mine. 
 
 That Book is still my chosen friend - 
 
 My comforter— my guide ; 
 I'll trust it till life's latest end. 
 
 Though all prove false beside : 
 For tho' its outward charms decay, 
 
 I feel its imvard pow\ 
 Grows stronger ev'ry passing day, 
 
 And sweeter ev'ry hour : 
 Whilst often, as I sink to rost^ 
 
 I bless that father's tongue 
 Wliich sow'd ' the seed' within my breast 
 
 From which my peace has sprung. 
 
 75 
 
 
INCENTIVES TO PRAISE. 
 
 " Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits "-/..o/^ eiii. 2. 
 
 Why do T praise Him ? Go, ask yon flower, 
 
 So fresh and so lovely in bloom, 
 Why it breathes on the air, from my gay little bower, 
 
 Its fragrant and luscious perfume. 
 
 Why do^ I praise Him ? Go, ask yon stream. 
 
 Why it murmurs its grateful song, 
 As its bosom reflects the sun's fair beam, 
 
 And it joyfully ripples along. 
 
 Why do I praise Him ? Go, ask yon choir 
 Why they warble their soul-thrilling lays 
 
 From the thicket, the brake, and the moss-cover'd spire, 
 Thro' the long and serene summer days. 
 
 Each flower with fragrance and brightness of hue- 
 Each stream with its murmuring sound- 
 Each bird with its song-tell their gratitude due 
 To the Som-ce whence aU blessings abound. 
 
 76 
 
A mother's hymn. 
 
 And shall flowers, arid streamlets, and birds of the air, 
 
 Bo full of God's glory and praise, 
 Whilst I, who His love more abundantly share, 
 
 Not a strain of thanksgiving can raise ? 
 
 Oh, no ! 'tis He guides me,-He lightens my way ; 
 
 He aids me in every strife ; 
 And therefore I praise Him by night and by day, 
 
 And will till the close of my life. 
 
 A MOTHER'S HYMN. 
 
 '•Ho slmll givo HiH angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy wave 
 —Pgatm xci. 11. ""/o. 
 
 Gather, angels, gather round her ; 
 
 O'er her let thy wings be spread ; 
 Let delightful dreams be found her, 
 
 Scatter blessings o'er her head. 
 
 Warble, angels, warble o'er her, 
 Tender strains of joy and peace ; 
 
 Smooth the path that lies before her, 
 Bid all sin's delusions cense. 
 77 
 
BOCIIIM. 
 
 Guard her, annrels, whilst reposing, 
 Keeping loving watch and true ; 
 
 Let those cjes, like violets closincr. 
 Open to the morning dew. 
 
 Guard that body—fairer flower 
 Ne'er to deck this earth was L'iv'n • 
 
 Keep it from each driving shower, 
 Warm it with the beams of heav'n. 
 
 Guard that soul— that priceless treasure. 
 And, should that form no more arise 
 
 Bear it to scenes of holy pleasure,— 
 Endless bliss beyond the skies. 
 
 Xti'i 
 
 BOCIIIM. (0 
 
 "And it came to pa«s. when the angel of the Lord spake thc.c words un- 
 to all the chUdren of Israel, that the people lifted up their voice, and wept 
 And tliey called the name of that place ^ochim." -Judges ii. 4, 5. 
 
 Through Boehim's valley all must tread,— 
 
 Some bitter, burning tears, 
 Must ev'ry heav'n-bound pilgrim shed, 
 
 Before his home appears : 
 
 (1) "Weepers"; "place of weeping.'- 
 
 7i 
 
BOCniM. 
 
 Before he sees his Father's face, 
 In realms of endless day ; 
 
 Before in Jesus' fond embrace, 
 All tears are wiped away. 
 
 Bark deeds of sin, wrought long ago, 
 In wild and thoughtless youth. 
 
 Whilst yet Ave wander'd to and fro,' 
 Strangers to God and t)-uth,— 
 
 These oft, like ghosts, will leave the tomb, 
 
 In stillness of the night. 
 Oppress the heart with deepest gloom, 
 
 The trembling soul affright : 
 
 Many the dreary, sleepless nights,^ 
 Many the tears and prayers, 
 
 Before these grim and ghastly sprites 
 Are driven from their lairs ! 
 
 Beside some little grassy mound. 
 With clinging wild-flow'rs drest. 
 
 Oft wia scuie kneeling form be found, 
 By 'whelming grief opprest : 
 
 79 
 
BOCIIIM. 
 
 Sortie must, like kingly David, weep 
 Above a sickly child : (• ) 
 
 Some must, like faithful Rizpah, keep 
 Death-watch on mountain wild: (2) 
 
 Some o'er their own deep-seated woes, 
 The flowing tears must shed ; 
 
 Whilst others, Ohrist-like, weep o'er those, 
 Whose day of grace is fled. 
 
 The easily beset ung sin — 
 
 The secret, gnawing woe — 
 
 These wring the grieving soul within, 
 And make the sad drops flow : 
 
 These drive us to the * sinner's Friend,' 
 These lift our thoughts above ; 
 
 In Him our dark forebodings end, — 
 There grief is lost in love. 
 
 (1) II Sam. xii. 22. 
 
 (2) II Sam. xxi. 10. 
 
 m 
 
 ,;: va^.. 
 
NO MORE DEATH. 
 
 (fiev. xxi. 4.) 
 
 There is a pallid spectre, («) 
 
 ^With swift but silent tread, 
 O'er earth for ever movin^r, 
 And filling all with dread ; 
 
 His person no man knoweth, 
 His form is never seen ; 
 
 But tears and groans of anguish 
 Proclaim whore he hath been. 
 
 He climbs the park-girt palace, 
 Where monarchs dwell in state ; 
 
 Passes the marble portal— 
 The sentry at the gate ; 
 
 And, lo ! a prince lies sleeping 
 Beneath liis crimson pall, 
 
 Wliilst sadlj tears are falling 
 In hamlet and in hall. 
 
 (1) "Pallida Mor. „.,uo pul.at pede paupcrum tabernas 
 Kegumquo turre8."-Uor. Lib. I. 4. 
 81 F 
 
NO MORE I)P:aTII. 
 
 Through cotta^^o porch lie enters, 
 Whore wreathing crecpera cHng,- 
 
 Where, 'mid the merry sunshine, 
 The birds all gaily sing : 
 
 There Nature's sweetest incense 
 Is breathed upon the gale, 
 
 But, in a darken'd chamber, 
 There lies an infant pale. 
 
 Oh, flow'rs may bud and blossom. 
 The jasmine perfume fling, — 
 
 The stream may murmur softly, 
 The wild-birds sweetly sing : 
 
 Their charms can never solace 
 The grieving spirit's pain ; 
 
 Their voices cannot waken 
 That form to life again ; 
 
 ^l ^1 
 
 Itfi J : 
 
 I 'If I 
 
 But some fond Rachel, weeping, 
 Must rend the startled air ; — (' ) 
 
 Death ! hast thou no pity. 
 That thou could'st enter there ? 
 
 (1) Matt. ii. 18. Jer. xxxi, 15, 
 
 82 
 
No MORE DEATH. 
 
 Thus over earth's dirk Hurfucc, 
 Ami o'er the homullesa main, 
 
 Glides on that noiseless spectro, 
 Tears ever in his train ; 
 
 • 
 And daily some new tomb-stone, 
 
 Or little grassy mound, 
 
 Some gurgling of the water, 
 
 Or dull and plashing sound,— 
 
 Proclaims another mortal 
 
 Gone to his latest rest, 
 Beneath earth's sparkling dew-drops, 
 
 Or ocean's heaving breast. 
 
 Oh, for that blessed season 
 When saints shall rise again, 
 
 To share a glorious kingdom, 
 Where Death shall never rei^ ! 
 
 Oh, for that happy region 
 Beyond his blighting br'-ath,— 
 
 Those bright and blissful mansions. 
 Where shall be " no more death !" 
 
 83 
 
THE iEOLIAN IIAUP. 
 
 "Tho frindldowoth whom It lli.t<Tth, ami thou hoaroHt tlio huuikI tlioroof, 
 but omijd not toll whoiico it comcth, and whithor it "vtb: «u itt ovory one 
 UiRt iH borii of tho .Spirit."— J<Vm lii. 8. 
 
 I placed a sweet iEolian lyre 
 
 My open window near ; 
 No music flow'd at my desire, 
 
 Until a zephyr dear . 
 
 Broath'd softly on each tuneful string, 
 And made their sweet-ton'd voices rbg 
 
 Upon the list'ning ear. 
 
 My soul was silent — bound in sin, 
 Till God's sweet Spirit came 
 
 Its dark and desert shrines within, 
 To wake, to thrill, to tame : 
 
 Now happy music soundeth there,- 
 
 The uusic of believing prayer, 
 Pour'd forth in Jesus' name. 
 84 
 
THE COMINO YBAK. 
 
 Oh, ^^ M that ovory h,k.I|.I,,u,„1 mouI 
 W'>uiac- that Sf.irit'H hrcuth, 
 
 ^*^ . .->utuii'H (lark control, 
 
 And rtikn. (3 (leupu8 death | 
 
 Theu, breathing, forth their noton divine 
 
 Ettrth wo„I,l iH-eomc one holy „hrinc, 
 The dome of Heav'n heueuth. 
 
 Ala/i! tout tuneless chords should jar 
 
 *Mid that Hvvoet m lodj ! 
 Bom from ahove,(.)„i„^;.,a,tj^,,,,^^ 
 
 Our converse with the sky: 
 But soon the hand of boundless Love 
 «liall each disconhmt strii,;. remove, 
 Till all is harmony. 
 
 
 0).^«A«.iii. 3. (Marginal reading ..from above. 
 
 80 
 
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 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (71'' ) 872-4503 
 
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 '%'- 
 
THE COmNG YEAR. 
 
 "My days aro Hwlftor than a weaver's Hhuttlc."— ./oft vii. 6. 
 " So toaoh U8 to number our days, that wo may apply our hearts uuto 
 wisdom."— /*«a/n» xc. 12. 
 
 Another year has glided o'er, 
 
 Of mingled Miss and sorrow ; 
 Its beams and clouds return no more 
 
 To gild or shroud the morrow. 
 'Tis gone ! His gone beyond recall ! 
 
 Like nightly vision, vanish'd ; 
 Soon will its ling'ring traces all. 
 
 By fresher scenes be banish'd. 
 
 Fair flow'rs will wreathe the new-raised tomb 
 
 Where some lov'd form is sleeping. 
 And solace with their fragrant bloom 
 
 The hearts now sore with weeping : 
 Array'd in smiles will be the cheek 
 
 Where Sorrow's rills are streaming ; 
 Whilst eyes, which deepest woe bespeak, 
 
 Will soon with joy be beaming. 
 
 86 
 
THE COMING YEAR. 
 
 Once more, o'er all the verdant plain, 
 
 Throughout Earth's fragrant bowers. 
 Will Spring resume her transient reign, 
 
 And ope the budding flowers ; 
 Fair types of human hopes, whose smile 
 
 Deluded bosoms cherish, — 
 Ah ! doora'd, like them, to bloom awhile. 
 
 And then to fade and perish. 
 
 Next, Summer will display the charms, 
 
 As time is onward creepinf?; 
 And Autumn bare her sunburnt arms, 
 
 To gather in her reaping, 
 Ere Winter comes with hurrying feet 
 
 To veil the wreck of nature. 
 And, with her snowy winding-sheet. 
 
 To shroud each wither'd feature. 
 
 Those anxious aims for fame and gain, 
 
 But form'd to be defeated ; 
 That chequer'd round of varied pain, 
 
 Again will be repeated. 
 Until, released, our heads have press'd 
 
 The dreamless death-bed pillow. 
 Like weary sea-birds sunk to rest 
 
 On life's expended billow. 
 87 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 The warrior's pride — the statesman's care- 
 Each sigh for pomp or pow'r, 
 
 Will wake no answering echo there, 
 In that calm, peaceful hour ; 
 
 But each bright deed of faith and love, 
 Their holy radiance blending, 
 
 Will crown the saint, to realms above 
 On angel-wings ascending. 
 
 SEED-TIME. 
 
 "In tho morning sow thy seed; and in tlie evening withhold not thine 
 hMi."—Eccl€8. xi. 6. 
 
 " Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters."— /«aiaA xxxii. 20. 
 
 Life is thy seed-time, brother man, 
 The soil is ready and meet ; 
 
 The time before thee is but a span, 
 But the furrows are under thy feet. 
 
 Freely did'st thou of thy Lord receive, 
 . Mercy, and pity, and love ; 
 
 Freely, then, of thy fulness give, (i) 
 Sow now, and reap above ! 
 
 (1) 1 Matt. X. 8. 
 
 88 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 Gaze on those shivering sons of want, 
 
 Hungry, and chill, and bare, 
 With famish'd eyes, with clothing scant, 
 
 And wild neglected air : 
 Here scatter thy deed and it shall bring 
 
 Fruit to a hundred-fold ; 
 From deserts as barren as this shall spring 
 
 More than thy bams can hold. 
 
 See yon pale mother tending her charge, 
 
 With faded and care-worn cheek ; 
 Slender her means, her family large. 
 
 Her husband ailing and weak ; 
 She will not stoop to the beggar's trade, 
 
 But work on till she drop 
 
 A few seeds here of kindly aid. 
 
 Will yield thee a noble crop. 
 
 A felon lies in yon darken'd cell. 
 
 Brooding in silence grim ; 
 To-morrow will ring his dying knell. 
 
 Hast thou no seed for him ? 
 Not a pitying tear ? not a word of hope ? 
 
 Not an interceding pray'r ? 
 Before the grip of the strangling rope 
 
 Launches his spirit — where ? 
 
 89 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 Go, Christian sower — go bravely forth I 
 
 Be love thy precious seed ; 
 Go East and West ! go South and North ! 
 
 For pressing is the need ; 
 There arc wounded spirits and hopeless breasts, 
 
 And cheeks ne'er free from tears ; 
 There are muids where ignorance deeply rests, 
 
 Together with slavish "oars : 
 Where'er thou turnest thy wand'ring feet. 
 
 Through this sad world below, 
 There is plenty of soil ready and meet 
 
 For that thou hast to sow. 
 
 Sow not thro' a love of this world's pelf, 
 
 Nor for man's approving nod ; 
 Sow not through a paltry love of self, 
 
 But sow through a love to God ! 
 See, too, Brother, thy seed be cast 
 
 Not with a niggardly hand. 
 That thou may'st reap, when thy tolls are past, 
 
 On the plains of the promis'd land. 
 
 [ 
 
 90 
 
SEASONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 ir'^r.'."!"^' *"•* '""'•"^"ff. nnd at uoon, wlU I pray, and ory aloud , aud 
 110 ihall hear my voicv."—I\ialin Iv. 17. 
 
 Bright beams the blushing morn, 
 
 The night has flown away ; 
 Fair flow'rs the fields adorn, 
 
 The sunbeams brightly play ; 
 The lark's song sweet and clear, 
 
 Rings through the balmy air ; 
 Now, meekly drawing near. 
 
 How sweet the hour of pray'r I 
 
 'Tis noon ! the drooping flowers 
 
 Look faint — the brook is dry ; 
 The sun's exhausting powers 
 
 The face of Nature try ; 
 To yonder river's brink 
 
 The thirsting flocks repair : 
 So, when thy spirits sink, 
 
 Go, seek thy God in pray'r ! 
 
 91 
 
UNDER TUE SNOW. 
 
 *Tifl cv*ning*8 holy hour ! 
 All Nature whinpers peace ; 
 
 Closed is each dewy flow'r 
 
 The world's loud murmurs cease ; 
 Now, in this calm so sweet, 
 When all around is fair, 
 Bow low at Jesus' feet. 
 Pour forth thy soul in pray'r ! 
 
 Thus in the morn of life, 
 
 And at its noon, and eve 
 Whatever storms bo rife,— 
 
 Whatever make thee grieve,— 
 Oft steal from earth away, 
 
 Its sorrow and its care. 
 And let each passing day 
 
 Be sanctified by prayer. 
 
 II 
 
 92 
 
IJNDKR THE SNOW.' 
 
 doptl'^f rc!.?;'^:*!^^^^ «'-lt brio* mo up .g.,0 ,w,m th« 
 
 Under tlie snow— four foot low— 
 
 I laid a child to rest ; 
 Her form was chill, her lips were still- 
 
 No pulse within her hreast : 
 In her eye no light, and her brow as white 
 
 As the flow'rs her fingers press'd. 
 
 Under the snow— four foot low-> 
 
 That tmj form was laid; 
 The feeble ray of a winter day, 
 
 Above her lightly play'd ; 
 And a little mound of frozen ground 
 
 Was all the tribute paid. 
 
 • The first child the author wm o«}ua . . 
 
 ofhiBown little one, wa« buried " ti? 11?"° r!/"*''"' ^"^^ ^^^ '^''^''^ 
 for its heavy falls of snow : the two c rcnm / .'*" ^'" ^^' ''"markable 
 ^ hi« nuad. «8 he wrote the foiXg v"«er'"' '^^'^^^^^^^-Wy Wondod 
 
 93 
 
UNDER TUB BNOW. 
 
 Under the snow — four foot low— 
 
 I left that Hleepin"^ child ; 
 But Sprin^^ came round, with merry sound, 
 
 An<l the air was fresh and mild; 
 The graad waved j^reen, where the nnow had bccn,- 
 
 Aiid birds sang sweet and wild : 
 
 Still, under the snow — cold and low — 
 
 She lies in my memory ; 
 For no earthly Spring can over bring 
 
 My darling l)ack to mo : 
 I ne'er can hear that voice so dear — 
 
 Tliat light step bounding free ! 
 
 Thus, under the snow,— four foot low- 
 That form still silent lies ; 
 
 But a Spring shall shine, and a voice divine 
 Shall one day bid it rise ; 
 
 So I will not weep, for the angels keep 
 That grave in their loving eyes. 
 
 When earth and its snow, beneath the glow 
 
 Of that spring, shall melt away, 
 That form shall rise beyond the skies, 
 
 And bask in Heaven's ray, — , 
 
 Shall re-unite with the spirit bright, 
 
 Which left it lifeless clay. 
 
 84 
 
n,— 
 
 "IN THE THOUGH OF THE SEA/'* 
 
 " Out of tho (Irptlm huvo I crli-.l unto thoo, O I^rd. "—/»««/;« cxxx. 1. 
 
 Days and niglita in the * trough of the «<?«,' 
 
 A groat ship, Ial)'riti;^% lay ; 
 Suns roso and sot on the waves, but she 
 
 Rode not upon her way ; 
 Whilst the shadowy wings of Eternity 
 
 Brooded from day to day. 
 
 As stormy waves did round her leap, 
 What sights, what sounds were there ! 
 
 Low-muttered curses many and deep — 
 Dark looks of wild despair ; 
 
 With pallid faces, e'en in sleep. 
 Beaming with peace and pray'r. 
 
 • Suggested by the disaster which bofel the giant steamship, ' The Great 
 Laatern,' in the month of September, A.D. 1861. 
 
 95 
 
" IN THE TROUOU OF TUB IIIA." 
 
 Days an<l ni^htH in the ' trouyh qf the ua^ 
 
 Kx[H)«t'd to Ocuaii*H ra^o, 
 Sunk in a state of mirn'ry, 
 
 Wliich nau;^lit euul.l then m^Huago, 
 Each lon^ day HeeinM like u century 
 
 Each gloomy night an ago. 
 
 Days and ni;5litH in the * troxujh of the wa/ 
 
 My spirit, lahVing, lay ; 
 Ileav'n HeemM to have no smile for mo, 
 
 And Hope no kindly ray ; 
 Wounded and l)rui«M, I could not boo 
 
 A step of the onward way. 
 
 The trou})led waters rose and roarM, 
 
 Clouds veiled the radiant sky ; 
 Where once its checrin-; li;^ht was pour'd 
 
 I mot Despair's dull eye ; 
 But I cried to Thee, my gracious Lord ! 
 
 And Thou did'st hear my cry. 
 
 Thy loving smile the darkness broke, 
 
 Thy grace renew'd my might, 
 And soon my spell-bound spirit woke 
 
 Beneath its cheering light ; 
 And now I stem, with a bolder stroke, 
 
 The billows, foaming white. 
 
 96 
 
" IN THR TROUail OF TUB BlA.'' 
 
 I tee my wcukru'MH, my Ood ! 
 
 T too Thy rnl^ht divirn' ; 
 1 love tlic hiiuil that ;7JwpH the rod— 
 
 The fjico tluit would Hot Mhino ; 
 And I worHhip IIi,„ who the; hillowu trod, 
 
 Fur the |k;uco which now is mine. 
 
 I IthIho Thoo, Lord, for every smilo 
 
 Thou deomest i^ood for mo ; 
 Yes, and for every provin;,' trial, 
 
 Which drawn mo ni^'h to Theo : 
 For I icnow 'J'hou lovMnt me even while, 
 
 I lay in « the trouyh of the sea ' / 
 
 97 o 
 
*' BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER'S BURDENS. 
 
 Gal. vl. 2. 
 
 ' Bear ye one another's burdens,' 
 
 Pilgrim-saints for 7 ion bound ! 
 Seek and crave no other guerdons, 
 
 But what in Jesus' smiles are found. 
 
 Wlien soine bruised and fallen brother 
 Drops upon the world's highway, 
 
 Thc'gh scorn'd and left by ev'ry other, 
 Turn not ye your eyes away. 
 
 Let false, self-righteous worldlings cherish, 
 
 Coldness, selfishness and pride ; 
 Leave not ye a soul to perish — 
 
 Pass not on the other side ! <i) 
 
 >» 
 
 I * 
 
 But, like Him, the loving Jesus — 
 Who cares for all that breathe below, 
 
 And who from every sorrow frees us — 
 Look kindly on a brother's woe. 
 
 Dispel his spirit's sinful blindness. 
 Soothe its wounds with oil and wine ; 
 
 Speak to him with words of kindness — 
 Speak to him of grace divine. 
 
 (1) Luke X. 30. 
 
 98 
 
"BEAR YE ONiil ANOTIIEIl's BURDENS. 
 
 Pity his forlorn condition ; 
 
 Comfort, counsel, warn, entreat ; 
 Let it be your blessed mission 
 
 To lead him to the Sav'our's feet. 
 
 Shun not homes though poor and lowly, 
 There true riches oft are stor'd ; 
 
 Yet, however blest and holy, 
 Its inmates need a kindly word. 
 
 Poverty has many trials. 
 
 Often unbefriended stands ; 
 How welcome, 'mid its self-denials, 
 
 Feeling hearts and helping hands ! 
 
 Fly not spots where earthly sorrow- 
 Where care and pining sickness reign ; 
 
 There sad or sick from thoe may borrow' 
 Balm to soothe their bitter pain. 
 
 Fly not scenes where deathless spirits 
 Leave their prison-house of clay 
 
 For realms in which the saint inherits 
 Glory that shall ne'er decay: 
 
 99 
 
"bear ye one another's burdens." 
 
 Whore restless heads press dying pillows, 
 
 Dew'd with penitential tears ; 
 Until, above sin's 'whelming billows, 
 
 Jesus' loving form appears. 
 
 Shun not, then, these daily meetings 
 With poverty, disease, and death ; 
 
 These are times when friendly greetings 
 Come like Spring's reviving breath. 
 
 Oh, 'tis then words fitly spoken 
 
 Pierce the souls of those that roam, 
 And, when the cords of sin are broken, 
 Lead repentant wand'rers home. 
 
 " Bear ye one another's burdens," 
 
 As this world ye travel thro' ; 
 Seek not perishable guerdons — 
 
 Bear, because He lore for you ! 
 
 Cares and troubles shar'd with others,- 
 Sorrows cheer' d with Christian love, 
 
 Make a commonwealth of brothers. 
 Such as dwell with Christ above, 
 
 100 
 
1 
 
 My cimucii. 
 
 There is a spacious fane uprear'd 
 
 In honour of the Lord, 
 Where He is pleased to summon me 
 
 To preach His gracious word : 
 To wear an ephod, and to lead 
 
 Those notes of praise and pray'r, 
 Wliich He himself vouchsafes to heed 
 
 From realms of upper air. 
 
 No architectural beauties grace 
 
 Its unpretending aisles, 
 No sculpture such as finds a place 
 
 In grand cathedral piles ; 
 No painted windows tint each ray 
 
 That plays athwart the floor, 
 No high-carv'd cherubim display 
 
 Their wings above the door. 
 
 101 
 
MY CHURCH. 
 
 And yet I know it hag its charms 
 
 In its good Master's eyes, 
 And trust it gathers in its arms, 
 
 Blest souls for yonder skies : 
 Oh ! may it prove like dews of even 
 
 To spirits worn and fiiint — 
 A happy, long-sought gate of Heaven, 
 
 To many a Avcary sahit ! 
 
 There, hlessed Lord, we wait on Thee, 
 
 When Sabbath mornings rise ; 
 There craving spirits look to me. 
 
 With earnest, yearning eyes : 
 Full oft I tremble as I stand 
 
 Within those sacred walls — 
 The sight of that assembled band 
 
 My very soul appals. 
 
 How shall I large these, face to face, 
 
 To shun each hateful sin ? 
 AVhen /still have so little grace — 
 
 So much of guilt within : 
 Whilst in the wilderness I stray. 
 
 With faint and wavering tread, 
 How shall I lead these on the way ? 
 
 How fill these souls with bread ? 
 
 102 
 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 
 
 My Saviour ! I will look to thee — 
 
 Thou wilt my need supply ; 
 None e'er can weak or empty bo 
 
 When Thou art standing by : 
 From Thee will I, beloved Lord ! 
 
 The bread of life receive — (i) 
 Low at thy feet, first hear the Word, 
 
 Then to thy people give. 
 
 SMILES AND TEARS. 
 
 " To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the 
 heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh ; a time to mourn and a time 
 to dance."— £'cc/es. iii. 1, 4, 
 
 • 
 
 Laugh when the skies are warm and bright ; 
 When the mind is free and the heart is light ; 
 Wlien not a cloud looms on the sight ; — 
 
 Laugh! Laugh! 
 
 Weep when the bloom of life hath fled ; 
 When the last sear leaf of hope is shed ; 
 When the cherished friends of youth lie dead ;- 
 
 Weep! Weep! 
 
 (1) Matt. XV. 36. 
 
 103 
 
"heart treasures." 
 
 Laugh when the joys of life are groen ; 
 Wcop when the pangs of grief are keen; 
 Laugh and weep thro' the choiiucr'd scene ;- 
 
 Laugh and weep ! 
 
 Laughing and weeping, must we go 
 O'er the changeful face of earth below ; 
 Till the sunshuie of Ileav'n around us glow, 
 
 Where none can weep ! 
 
 "HEART TREASURES." 
 
 P«aIm cxix. 72*"^ "'"'*' " ^'"'' "°*° ""^ ^^'" ^^''"'""^^ «^ ^'^^ «"^> «"ver."- 
 
 T would not yield these hopes of mine— 
 
 The peace this heart hath known. 
 For all the wealth and pomp that shine 
 
 Around a monarch's throne ; 
 More sweetly they my griefs beguile, 
 
 And cheer my dreary way, 
 Than Pleasure's soft ensnaring smile, 
 
 Or proud Ambition's ray. 
 
 104 
 
 ,1 
 
['10 V. 
 
 I'."— 
 
 "heart treasures." 
 
 The regal crown may gi-aco a brow 
 
 That aches with inward care ; 
 Uare ;,'ems may gleam on breasts of snow, 
 
 Dark temples of Despair ; 
 The beams of Pleasure shine awhile, 
 
 But only to betray ; 
 And who would seek Ambition's smile 
 
 For triumphs of a day ? 
 
 But hopes that lift the soul above- 
 Sweet peace within the heart— 
 
 The tokens of a Saviour's love 
 
 These never can depart : 
 
 The gloomier the path we tread, 
 The sweeter is their pow'r ; 
 
 And, oh, how bright the beams they shed 
 On life's last solemn hour ! 
 
 .1 
 
 105 
 
THE rUOTO-MAllTYll. 
 
 
 'Ai.atlay Hfcno.l HtopLon. calJIi.K upon God, and HajhiR, Lord Jobu- 
 
 Blccdin-; and cruslied the martyr lies 
 
 The frowning rock beneatli, 
 With fiice upturu'd to yonder skies, 
 
 And still, suspended breath ; 
 But peace and joy are with him now, 
 The light of Heaven gleams on his brow, 
 
 All damp with dews of death. 
 
 Stern eyes glare on that mangled form- 
 Fierce shouts rise on the air ; 
 
 He heedeth not the angry storm 
 Which rages round him there : 
 
 He sees the throng — the angel-thronrr ; 
 
 His ears are full of holy son^- 
 
 His soul is full of pray'r ! 
 
 Softly his spirit soars away. 
 And wings its flight on high ; 
 
 He sinks upon his couch of clay, 
 'Mid this rude lullaby, 
 
 106 
 

 TUE PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 Wrapt in a sleep as swoot and mild 
 
 As e'er ho alumberM, when a child, 
 
 Beneath his mother's eye. (^) 
 
 To early tomb that corpse \h borne 
 
 With loving kindness drest ; 
 Whilst many a Christian friend, forlorn, 
 
 Weeps sadly on his breast; (2) 
 Yos, many are the tear-drops shed, 
 And softly is the dark earth spread 
 
 Above his i)laco of rest. 
 
 First on the bright, but crimson page 
 
 Of martyr'd men of God, 
 Who, slain for Christ, in every age 
 
 Have cried from earth's dark sod ! 
 Many another, faint and worn, 
 Mangled and crushed, defaced and torn. 
 
 Must tread where thou hast trod. 
 
 When earth's sharp trials ftill thick on me, 
 
 And break my spirit down, 
 God give mo grace to think of thee, 
 
 And dare the world's dark frown ! 
 God grant me steadfast to abide, 
 That I may worship at thy side, 
 
 And wear the saintly crown ! 
 
 (1) Acts vii. GO. 
 
 (2) Acts viii. 2. 
 
 107 
 
UCm IN DARKNESS/ 
 
 Father, you cannot bear to soo 
 These dim and si-htless ojes ; 
 
 It pains you when yc, think of me— 
 The gluom that on me lies; 
 
 I bless you for your loving care, 
 Your words and accents kind ; 
 
 But banish (h,uht and dnrk despair, 
 Mourn not that I am bh'nd. 
 
 'Tis true I cannot see the mild, 
 
 I^i-igHt sun that glows above— 
 The grove I playM j, ,,,,,,^ ^ ^j^.^^j_ 
 
 The flow'rs I used to love : 
 
 Mivnofl ♦««-. „4' 1..^ . . " ^*«K«t'ratO till' Hliirifit.il o.,.. .. 
 
 Thrflc 
 
 with 
 
 rp.xigned tone of Lor mind 
 
 we 
 xaggorato tl.e ^l.irituaJ and^mo^ro Sail 
 
 108 
 
LIUIIT IN DARKNMi. 
 
 'Tis true theHo eycH will iio'or again 
 Beholtl the hahhlin;,' hrook 
 
 The wild vine 'erosH the window-pane- 
 My fuvVite garden nook. 
 
 A flettled darkneHH hides from nic 
 
 The old ramiliur room, 
 In which r grew from infancy 
 
 To happy girlhood's bloom : 
 
 But all my spirit held most dear 
 Is stJimp'd upon my mind, 
 
 So deep, 80 vivid, and so clear, 
 I cannot deem mo blind ! 
 
 To mo the flow'rs arc ever fair, 
 Those beams have never paled ; 
 
 Your faces are as free from care, 
 As when my sight was veil'd : 
 
 'Tis merciful it should be so ! 
 
 'Twould pain me could I sec 
 The traces of your silent woo, 
 
 Or anxious fears for me. 
 
 109 
 
LIOIIT IN DARKNEfiS. 
 
 Though gloom my outward viMlou Hhrouds, 
 
 A clear and inuutrtl liir|jt 
 Hfts HcatturM :ill tho murky clouds, 
 
 Which diiinuM iny t^pinCH si^ht : 
 
 I SCO niyMidf,— I see my (Jod, 
 
 So plainly, clcurly now, 
 I can hut blem tho chagt'nin^' rod 
 
 Which makes mo meekly how. 
 
 I sec— I SCO my fearful guilt, 
 
 As ne'er I saw heforo ; 
 My Hcorn for hlood hy Jcsuh spilt— 
 
 For all the \)\x\v^n ho horo : 
 
 I see my vanity and pride, 
 
 My cold and selfish ways ; 
 His mercy leaves no cloud to hide 
 
 These from my (|uickenM gaze. 
 
 But whilst I tlius witli tears behold 
 This stain'd, polluted soul, 
 
 And see the bitter Past unfold 
 Its dark mi d blotted scroll : 
 uo 
 
, 
 
 LIiUIT IN DARKNESM. 
 
 Althou;;h an orrin;; child, I sec 
 
 In (irMl II Father kind, 
 Who ycaniH to Ha\,' ami welcome mc,- 
 
 Oh, no, I am not Mind ! 
 
 I know that I have Jesns' love— 
 
 I lis pardon for my win ; 
 He wlii.sjK'rH me ot* hlisH ahovo, 
 
 Ho gives mo peace within. 
 
 No words of mine can o'er declare 
 Wliat joys Hurronnd mo now, — 
 
 Bnt can you mark one Hhade of caro 
 Upon this hapi)y hrow ? 
 
 Fear not, my father dear, for mo, 
 A dark world doom'd to tread, 
 
 You see not what your child can see 
 Of hrightness over-head : 
 
 Believe that He who turns my night 
 To fair and peaceful day, 
 
 Will ever keep me in His sight, 
 Nor let His blind one stray. 
 Ill 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 Grieve not, then, o'er thy sightless child, 
 
 Restrain tliy flowing tears ; 
 Hers is a lot by heaven bcguil'd, 
 
 And void of earthly fears : 
 
 But weep for those who, having eyes, 
 See not the things of God ; 
 
 Who leave the pathway to the skies, 
 Neglected and iintrod ! 
 
 UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 " They lifted up their voice to God witli me accord. And when they had 
 pmyed, the place was shaken where tliey were assembled together; and they 
 were all filled with the Holy Ghost."— ^c^s iv. 24, 81. 
 
 If he whom music doth inspire, 
 Touch but one string of tuneful lyre, 
 How doth its tender tribute greet 
 The list'ning ear with music sweet ! 
 Whilst each vibration seems to thrill 
 The eager soul, and gently still, 
 With accents soft, the waves of care 
 Which roll'd their 'whelming waters there : 
 
 112 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 But when his skilful hand he flings 
 Across a multitude of strings, 
 And all their tuneful notes combine, 
 Then, oh, what harmony divine ! 
 How doth it stir the silent deep 
 Where all our tend'rest feehngs sleep,— 
 Bid springs gush forth then first unseal'd, 
 And sympathies ne'er yet reveal'd. 
 Which shed their influence on the soul, 
 And bid us weep beyond control ; 
 Till on the tide of gushing tears 
 A thousand dark and anxious fears, 
 With yearnings, not unmix'd with pain. 
 Are swept away,— and joy doth reign ! 
 
 'Tis thus, when God's blest Spirit breaks 
 
 Upon a sin-bound soul, and wakes 
 
 The music of believing pray'r, 
 
 The Father bends from upper air ! 
 
 Those broken accents, new desires, 
 
 A sense of sinfulness inspires ; 
 
 Those rapt, ecstatic words which tell 
 
 Of joys ineffable that swell 
 The bosom of the child of God, 
 Who by the Saviour's side hath trod. 
 Each individual note of pray'r 
 Wakes a responsive rapture there, 
 
 113 H 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 As He, with yearning heart doth bound 
 To clasp a child, once lost, now found : 
 Or as He sees, with tender thrill, 
 One, long beloved, draw nearer still. 
 
 ^ : 
 
 But if our God doth deem so sweet, 
 Those spirit utt'rances which greet 
 His loving ear from one full soul, 
 When freed from sin's accurs'd control, 
 How must He long and love to hear 
 When goodly multitudes draw near, 
 And, with one voice and one accord, 
 Pour forth their wants before their Lord ! 
 Beseeching, with united cry, 
 Rich blessings from His throne on high. 
 He leans towards that kneeling throng. 
 Their burden, dear as angels' song, 
 Pierces the gloomy pall of Night, 
 Climbs swiftly up the starry height, 
 Enters ' the holiest ' above, 
 And wakens all a Father's love. 
 
 May all the Church, in union sweet, 
 Thus oft before Jehovah meet ; 
 Not merely from her altars lone, 
 May she with pray'rs besiege His throne 
 
 114 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 But at one common altar raise 
 Such ' hecatombs ' of pray'r and praise, 
 As shall bid Satan turn and flee, 
 And fill all Heav'n with minstrelsy ! 
 
 Oh ! ere that savor yet can rise 
 Beyond the over-arching skies.— 
 Before those words can reach His ear, 
 That gracious God will haste to hear ; 
 Will ' rend the heavens and come down,' 
 His Church with lasting glory crown ; 
 Will ne'er permit her light to fail, 
 Nor let the gates of hell prevail : 
 Will bind around her radiant brow 
 Wreaths that shall bloom resplendent now, 
 But lovelier glow in that pure clime, 
 Where blighting sin and with'ring Time 
 No more can injure or defile, 
 Or rob her of the Bridegroom's smile. 
 
 115 
 
SPIRITUAL LONGINGS. 
 
 ' Wo that aro In this tabernacle do groan, being burdened : not for that wo 
 i»ouId bo undothod, but clothod upon, timt mortality niiglit be Bwaliowcd 
 up of Ut'c."-2 Cor. V. 4. 
 
 When shall I sec my Saviour king, 
 
 On His all-glorious throne, 
 And hear the bright-wing'd angels sing 
 
 Sweet songs, on earth unknown ? 
 When shall I see the white-rob'd saints. 
 
 Before him, radiant, stand, 
 A crown on ev'ry beaming brow, 
 
 A palm in ev'ry hand ? 
 When shall I see that Father's face, 
 
 So yearn'd for, and so dear ? 
 When shall I once again embrace 
 
 The friends who cheer'd me here ? 
 
 Be still, my longing soul ! Be still ! 
 
 Await the solemn hour 
 When He, who governs all at will, 
 
 Shall speak to thee in pow'r ; 
 U6 
 
 V- 
 
SPIRITUAL LONOINaS. 
 
 Shall burst tlio chains that bind to earth, 
 
 And bid thee soar away 
 To that blest home of thy new birth, 
 
 Where shines eteraal day. 
 Be still, my longing soul ! Be still ! 
 
 Be watchful unto pray'r ! 
 Bow meekly to thy Saviour's will, 
 
 And thou shalt see him there. 
 
 Thine ears shall catch such strains as thrill 
 
 No earth-bound souls below ; 
 Such joys thy yearning heart shall fill, 
 
 As mortals cannot know : 
 The strains of Heav'n, so sweet-so clear, 
 
 Its scenes so dazzling bright,- - 
 These are too high for earthly ear, 
 
 Too pure for earthly sight ! 
 But when thou art by Jesus' side, 
 
 Array'd in living light. 
 Then, longing soul, how full the tide 
 Of exquisite delight ! 
 
 I 
 
 iir 
 
DAYS THAT ARE GONE. 
 
 " K.y dayfl aro swlftor than a post : thoy floo away, thoy boo no good. They 
 Are pawed away m tho awift ships: as the caglo that haatotb to the prey."— 
 Job iit. 26, 28. 
 
 "Why should ye mourn o'er the days that are gone ? 
 
 Look hopefully on to tho morrow : 
 Tears must flow on till existence is done, 
 
 For Earth is a temple of Sorrow ! 
 
 Why should ye mourn o'er the days that are gone, 
 Who in beauty and youth are declining ? 
 
 'Tis the hand of your Father that beckons you on. 
 His love o'er your pathway is shining ! 
 
 Why should ye mourn o'er the days that are gone, 
 Whose heads are o'er-silver'd with age ? 
 
 Wish not o'er life's volume to linger so long, — 
 To pause o'er its last dreary page ! 
 
 Why should ye mourn o'er the days that are gone, 
 Whose hearts pain and anguish have riven ? 
 
 There's a balm that will soothe, there's a bliss to atone. 
 There's a Deace that's unbroken in Heaven ! 
 
 peace 
 
 118 
 
THl OLD man's aOD. 
 
 Why should ye mourn o'er tho days that aro gone, 
 
 Who in Piety's footsteps have trod ? 
 Each day, o'er thy head as it swiftly hath flown, 
 
 Hath brought thee more near to thy God ! 
 
 Then mourn not o'er days that are vanish'd and gone. 
 Though they fair and unclouded were given, 
 
 The brightest (^f beams that on earth ever shone 
 Is gloom to the glory of Heaven. 
 
 THE OLD MAN'S GOD. 
 
 "Even to your old age I am he; and oven to hoar hairs will I 
 you.— Isai. xlvi. 4. 
 
 carrf 
 
 
 I am weary and old, and wither'd and grey ; 
 My sap and vigor have pass'd away ; 
 I stand, like a leafless, desolate tree ; 
 For the world has no need, no thought of me. 
 But there was a time, when supple and strong, 
 I rose with the sun, and my cheery song 
 The silence deep of the forest broke, 
 As the tall trees fell at my sturdy stroke. 
 
 119 
 
TOE OLD man's QOD. 
 
 There was a time when I nak'd no fiid 
 To earn my own and my childron'n )rcad ; 
 When I almost Sv^oni'd the agc^d and weak, 
 As I granted the boon they came to seek : 
 But, alas ! I have lived long enough to see 
 That increasing years bring infirmity ; 
 I liave felt in my turn tliat the world is cold, 
 And cares little or nau^jht for the feeble and old. 
 
 The hands that have cut the forest down. 
 
 Oft reap not the sheaves wliich the clearing crown ; 
 
 The eyes that have watch'd the clicking loom, 
 
 From the grey of dawn to the evening's gloom, 
 
 Oft look in vain for their daily bread, 
 
 And a pillow to rest a hoary head ; 
 
 For them the toil, and the failing health. 
 
 For another the pleasure and pomp of wealth. 
 
 As long as the body can slave away. 
 
 There is plenty of toil and a trifle of pay ; 
 
 But when the vigor of life is sped. 
 
 Who cares where the pauper gets his bread ? 
 
 He may live on the road and lie in a ditch, ^ 
 
 His withered old wife may starve or stitch ; 
 
 The labour of years has broken his back, 
 
 And who heeds what becomes of a worn out hack ? 
 
 120 
 
THE OLD man's (iOD. 
 
 Gofl ! I had lain mo down and died, 
 Years, years a;^o, by the lone wayside ; 
 
 1 had hiin me down in sheer despair, 
 
 Were it not that I felt that Thou wert there; 
 Were it not for the comfort and peace I found 
 In Thee, when the skies were dark around ; 
 Were it not for the hopes which fiUM my breast 
 Of the home where the weary may find a rest. 
 
 I bow'd at Thy feet, with a heart defiled 
 With a tliousand sins, but thou hast smiled 
 By night and by day on my lonely way, 
 And kindlier still as my locks grew grey. 
 Then, what is the scorn of the world to me ? 
 What are its gloom, and its penury ? 
 When I can look up, from a couch on the sod, 
 With faith and hope, to the old man' 8 God, 
 
 121 
 
T 
 
 ^wjaft^jljl l 
 
 ON TO GLORY! 
 
 •' I reckon that the nullbringii of tliiH pronont tlm#arfl not worthy to be 
 o«jii»»ro<i with tho glory wlilch tthidl bo ruvetthrl in u»."—nain \ lU. 18. 
 
 On to glory ! On to glory ! 
 Not whoro battle-fields are gory, 
 
 And heaps of slain defile tho ground ; 
 Not where forms in death are sleeping — 
 Not whore broken hearts are weeping, 
 
 And greedy vultures hover round. 
 
 On to glory ! On to glory ! 
 
 Where Ileav'n's high records tell the story, 
 
 Where angel-hands the victor crown ; 
 Where the hosts of Hell are flying. 
 Where Death himself is now a dying. 
 
 And Satan's hurl'd to darkness down. 
 
 On to glory ! On to glory ! 
 
 Where time has waxen old and hoary, 
 
 And sunk with Earth into decay ; 
 But where tho honor which is given 
 By Jesus to his saints in Heaven, 
 
 Beams more resplendent day by day. 
 
 122 
 
b« 
 
 HOMEWARD DOUND. 
 
 " He bringoth thorn unto tluir Uonirt'd h*voa."—Ptalm evil. 30. 
 
 * Homeward bound ! Homeward bound 1* 
 
 Hark to tbo thrilling cry ! 
 TIio joyful Hound fast spreads around, 
 
 And rends the lofty sky : 
 The roughest seaman 'mid ua found 
 
 Has not an eyelid dry. 
 
 The bravo ship's weathor'd many a gale, 
 
 - And many a raging sea. 
 
 When the fierce blasts rent her swelling sail 
 
 And curb'd her spirit free, 
 'Mid foaming reefs, where cheeks grew pale 
 
 At thought of Eternity. 
 
 But now the storms are all forgot. 
 
 And Ocean's angry foam, 
 Has only endeared the native spot 
 
 To the hearts of those that roam ; 
 Glad dreams now brighten the sailor's cot 
 
 His bark is bound for home. 
 
 123 
 
ilOMEWAIU) BOUND. 
 
 Ill vain the fragrant Hpicc-grovcn fling 
 
 Thuir perfume o'er the tide ; 
 In vain the sparkling ripple» sing 
 
 Of the goodly pearU they liide ; 
 Nor enrth nor «ea a briho can bring 
 
 To tempt our bark aaide ! 
 
 'Tia thuH the stonn-boat Christian sails 
 
 The changeful Hoa of life, 
 lie drifts at the will of the furious gales 
 
 When tempestH dark are rife ; 
 And often Ida very Hpirit (juails 
 
 At the roar of the ai»gry ntrife. 
 
 But hark ! the cry is * Homeward bound ! ' 
 
 And, see, his visage now 
 (Irows bright beneath the thrilling sound, 
 
 Joy beams ui)on his brow : 
 He scatters the waves of care aside. 
 
 Like the bark, with cleaving prow. 
 
 * Homeward bound ! Homeward bound !* 
 
 My soul, be tliis thy cry ! 
 Swerve not one inch for their angry sound 
 
 When the stonns of life sweep by ; 
 But steer for the light which beams around 
 
 Tliy Father's homo on high ! 
 
 121 
 
TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 
 
 "Tiiou art my bopo In tiie d«y ofovU/'-Jui. xvU. 17. 
 
 To-day is full of care : 
 To-morrow, when it shines, 
 Sliall smooth those wriiiklc<l lines 
 
 Each brow dotli bear ; 
 For when on Jesus' breast 
 The weary head shall rest. 
 
 Sweet peace is there. 
 
 To-day sin weaves its chain : 
 To-morrow, freed from all 
 Its misery and thrall, 
 
 Freedom shall reign. 
 The soul, wash'd in the flood 
 Of ainless Jesus' blood, 
 
 Shall know no stain ! 
 
saam-m 
 
 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 
 
 To-day wc mourners weep : 
 To-morrow hath no tears! (') 
 No gloomy doubts — no fears 
 
 O'er us can sweep : 
 Clasp'd in their arms above, 
 The graves of those we love 
 
 No tear-drops steep. 
 
 To-day we sow the soil ; 
 To-morrow we shall reap, 
 If, fainting not, we keep 
 
 True to our toil: (») 
 When o'er the boundless plains 
 The golden harvest reigns, 
 
 How rich the spoil ! 
 
 To-day we mortals die : 
 To-morrow knows no death — (3) 
 Its foul and deadly breath 
 
 Blights not on high ; 
 Each flow'r transplanted there 
 Shall bloom for ever fair, 
 
 Nor droop — nor die ! 
 
 a) Rev. vii. 17. 
 (2) Gal. vi. 9. 
 
 (3) Sev. xxi. 4. 
 
 126 
 
DEPARTING IN PEACE. 
 
 " Lord now lettcet thou thy sorvant depart in peace."— Z«*e ij. 29. 
 
 The dawn of my life broke in brightness and beauty, 
 'Twas beaming with sunshine and fragrant with flow'rs ; 
 
 'Twas a scene of enjoyment, for pleasure seem'd duty, 
 And light-hearted Mirth sped the lingering hours. 
 
 But soon the fair morn was by darkness o'erclouded. 
 And sin left its stains 'mid its brightness and bloom ; 
 
 Its pleasures were gone, and its happiness shrouded. 
 Its mirth turn'd to sorrow, its sunshine to gloom. 
 
 The toys of my childhood no longer delighted— 
 
 The flow'rs that enraptur'd now charm'd me in vam ; 
 
 The haunts I once loved were forsaken and slighted— 
 The scenes that brought pleasure now fill'd me with pain 
 
 For the friends of my youth who once sported beside me, 
 Had left me alone in my wilderness-way ; 
 
 Some Mved to neglect me, some learned to deride me, 
 And others were torn, like heart-tendrilc 
 
 127 
 
 5, iiwuy, 
 

 ■Bigiii 
 
 DEPARTINa IN PEACE. 
 
 Thus my spirit f];rew hard as I sadly detected 
 
 So little on earth of affection and truth ; 
 'Till my conscience within show'd how / had neglected, 
 
 And wander'd away from the Guide of my youth. 
 
 « 
 
 Then I sorrow'd no more o'er the ties lie had broken, 
 O'er the twilight around me, so silent and dim ; 
 
 But I turn'd to that God who in mercy had spoken. 
 And shatter'd the fetters wliich kept mo from Ilim. 
 
 Oh, what are earth's friendships, and sunbeams, and flow'i^s, 
 To the smile of that Saviour my spirit hath found ? 
 
 How sad and how dark are her sunniest hours 
 To the gladness and glory which Jesus surround ! 
 
 Praise God for the brightness of life's early dawning ; 
 
 Praise Him who that brightness thought fit to decrease ; 
 'Twas good I should pass thro' the valley of mourning, 
 
 That my soul might depart to my Saviour in peace. 
 
 128 
 
LOOKING FOR THE EVENING. 
 
 ■iko'hX°?frzir,r,''r.*° °'" "r """■ ' •" °«' "■ "•'••"<• 
 
 )W 1*S. 
 
 le; 
 
 Hireling ! ^hj that constant gazing 
 
 Upward to the radiant sky ? 
 See, the mid-day sun is blazing 
 
 Fiercely from its throne on high : 
 Toil and heat must yet befall thee— . 
 
 Much thy soul must be opprest, 
 Ere the length'ning shadows call thee 
 
 To thy recompense and rest. 
 
 Earnestly and uncomplaining, 
 
 Labor thine appomted hour ; ' 
 Ev'ry idle wish restraining. 
 Putting forth thy utmost pow^r; 
 
 Labor on a little longer 
 
 Toil as in thy Master's sight ; 
 Faith shaU make thy spirit stronger— 
 iiiSjvi Buaiiiuiws.u my Duraen light. 
 
 129 I 
 
LOOKING FOR TUB EVENINO. 
 
 Think of Him who watches o'er thee 
 
 With a Father's yearning love ; 
 Ponder on the rest before theo 
 
 In that Father's home above : 
 Thmk how Christ himself will meet thee, 
 
 Tenderness in look and voice, — 
 How those long-lost friends will greet thee, 
 
 Who around his throne rejoice. 
 
 Soon shall sunbeams, ling'ring brightly, 
 
 Crimson yonder distant hill ; 
 Ev'ning zephyrs, breathing lightly, 
 
 Thro' the whisp'ring groves shall thrill : 
 Soon shall twilight mists be blended 
 
 O'er the meadows smiling now ; 
 Soon shalt thou, thy labour ended, 
 
 Wring the moisture from thy brow. 
 
 Hireling, see ! the shadows lengthen ! 
 
 Darkness o'er the landscape low'rs ! 
 May the Holy Spirit strengthen 
 
 For life's solemn closing hours ! — 
 Hireling ! happy 'bove all measure. 
 
 Now thy recompense receive ; 
 For tears and toil, delight and pleasure 
 
 Shall thy heav'nly Master give. 
 
 130 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 pLuT^T "'"" '" • ''«"' ''' J°^ --*^ ^ «« corning.". 
 
 Deep was the night of ignorance, 
 My spirit which confined ; 
 
 Wisdom divine no kindling glance 
 Shed o'er this darken'd mind : 
 
 But, lo ! the morning beameth now, 
 
 With light and truth around her brow 
 In living chaplets twmed. 
 
 Dreary the painful night of sin. 
 Which made my bosom sigh ; 
 
 No holiness could bloom within— 
 The fount of joy was dry ; 
 
 But, with the morning's crimson flame, 
 
 God's holy, blessed Spirit came 
 To cleanse and sanctify. 
 
 131 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 Dreadful the gloomy night of death, 
 
 When soul and body part ; 
 When fails the feeble, flutt'ring breath, 
 
 And stops the throbbing heart : 
 But soon the morning light shall break 
 On Earth's green graves, the dead . ' 
 
 To heal the mourner's smart. 
 
 The mght of ignorance is past— 
 
 The night of sin is done ! 
 The night of death^deepest and last — 
 
 Is hast'ning swiftly on ; — 
 'Tis past ! 0, bhss ! beyond the skies, 
 I see the endless morning rise — 
 
 Rejoice, all night is gone ! 
 
 132 
 
PISGAH. 
 
 ^nK?"* *5®*' "? '"*** *'"' *°P Of Pl8gah, and Hft up thfno oyoi woitward and 
 
 ?hn« r,?' "l'^ '"""'^'"■''' ""•^ "'"♦^*'-"' ""'J »^«»'«»^ " with thinTeyi': for 
 thou Shalt not go over thia Jordan."-/>eu^ 111. 27. 
 
 A lone and hoary pilgrim looks 
 Forth from a mountain's brow ; 
 
 He marks the silver-shining brooks 
 Which thread the plains below : 
 
 He sees the golden sunshine gleam 
 
 Upon the fleet and ample stream (>> 
 Where Jordan's waters flow. 
 
 Beyond, the purple-cluster'd vine, 
 Rich-laden, prostrate lies ; 
 
 There fertile valleys laugh and shine, 
 And feath'ry palm-trees rise ; 
 
 There, fringing Lebanon's far height. 
 
 Tall cedars stand, a goodly sight. 
 And tow'r to yonder skies. 
 
 (1) Josh. ill. 15. 
 
 133 
 
PISOAH. 
 
 Ho looks — but sorrow bowd his head — 
 
 Sad, yet resign'd his air ; 
 He may but vietu^ ho may not tread 
 
 That promised region fair : 
 Others shall see those waters part — 
 Others shall cross with swelling heart («) 
 
 But he will not be there ! 
 
 An unknown sepulchre must hide 
 His mouldering remains ; (') 
 
 There dews shall fall at eventide-— 
 Early and latter rains ; 
 
 But Friendship's tears shall glitter not 
 
 Above that lone, mysterious spot, 
 Where solemn silence reigns. 
 
 agSd pilgrim, that fair strand 
 Which glads thy failing sight, 
 
 But typifies the Heav'nly land 
 Which sin can never blight ; 
 
 There, in a better, purer clime, 
 
 Freed from the guilt and care of Time, 
 Thy day shall know no night. (*) 
 
 (3) Joah. iii. 18. (8) Deuf. xxxiv. 8. 
 
 (4) Jtev. xxL 25, and xxii. 5. 
 
 134 
 
WSQAH. 
 
 Thus, often, at tho ovo of life, 
 
 Before tho yawning tomb 
 Closes the Christian's weary strife, 
 
 And wraps tho world in gloom ; 
 God plants the soul on some bold height, 
 And gives it glorious visions bright 
 
 Of its celestial home : 
 
 And, child of God ! if He deny 
 
 A goodly portion Jierey 
 Climb Pisgah's summit, steep and high, 
 
 And look to yonder sphere ; 
 Behold that everlasting plain, 
 Where bliss, and peace, and glory reign, 
 
 And blush for ev*ry tear. 
 
 185 
 
I 
 
 THE PROMISED LAND. 
 
 " Whon thoa hut ottpn ami .rt Aill, then thou ilmlt bleim tho Lord thy 
 Uod lor tho good luid which ho hkth givou tUvii.' •-Ucuter. vUi. 10. 
 
 WoVo trod this earthly \?ilderae88 
 
 For many weary years, 
 We've tasted Marah's bitterness, (») 
 
 And wept unnumber'd tears ; 
 But now we're crossing Jordan's stream, 
 
 A glad, triumphant band, 
 And soon shall share the joys that beam 
 
 In Canaan's promised land. 
 
 We fainted for the water-spring, 
 
 A parch'd and thirsty flock, 
 But God refreshing streams did bring 
 
 From out the cloven rock ; (*) 
 And when our hungry souls did crave 
 
 The true and living bread. 
 His mercy heav'nly manna gave 
 
 His famish'd people fed. Q 
 
 (1) Exod. XV. 23. 
 
 (2) Exod. xvii. 6. &ndNum. xx. U. 
 
 (3) Exod. X' 1. 14, 15. 
 
 138 
 
TIIK PROMISED LAND. 
 
 Our shoos Rnd gamients failed us not, 
 
 T^rou^h all tho toilsome way ; (♦) 
 His loving-kindness no'or forgot 
 
 Our nood from day to day ; 
 And often, when the flaino of faith 
 
 Would flicker, pale, and wano, 
 Bis Spirit, with reviving hroath, 
 
 Would fun that Haino again. 
 
 As doth a father, full of love, 
 
 Watch o'er a wayward child, 
 So watch'd He o'er us from above, 
 
 Though weak and sin-dofil'd ; 
 Forgiving all our murmurings — 
 
 Our selfishness, and sin, 
 His saints to Canaan's shore he brings, 
 
 And bids them enter in. 
 
 Adieu, thou weary wilderness ! 
 
 Our home for many years ; 
 Adieu, to Marah's bitterness ! 
 
 Adieu to doubts and tears ! 
 Soon — soon, across death's chilly stream, 
 
 Our ransom'd souls shall stand, 
 And share the joy and peace that beam 
 
 In Canaan's promised land. 
 
 
 137 
 
" IS IT WELL ? " 
 
 • U It Wftll with tli« chUd? And the acawered/It U well. "-3 Kingg it M. 
 
 pil^im ! I have heard thy tuneful lyre 
 Oft pour upon the night a thrilling strain, 
 
 Which Beemcd thy fainting spirit to mspiro 
 
 Throughout its conflict with this world of pain : 
 
 Once more, before thy nerveless fingers fail, 
 
 Oh, lot it breathe upon the passing gale ! 
 
 Is it well ? 
 
 I 
 
 Thy home and scenes long cherish'd pass away ; 
 
 The forms of weeping friends fade from thy view ; 
 Where yonder crimson sunbeams lightly play, 
 
 There is an open grave, — 'tis dug for you I 
 Tears will bedew it oft, and flowVets fair 
 Will bloom in fragrant beauty — but declare — 
 
 Is it well? 
 
 il. ^! 
 
 138 
 
i« 
 
 U IT WELLT* 
 
 Pilgrim ! thy hoavj head sinks woarilj-^ 
 Thy cloning oyog look filmy, dull, and dim ; 
 
 Thy parting hroath comci Hhort and painfully- 
 Above thy pillow hm\(h a phantom grim: 
 
 Thy long and toilsome pilgrimage iH pofit — 
 
 Oh I iay, leBt that deep breath should be thy laet,- 
 
 Is it weU Y 
 
 See, thou art sinking *neath the rising surge 
 
 Of death's untried, unfathomable sea ; 
 Her dark and restless waves a mournful dirge, 
 
 With melancholy cadence, sing for thee : 
 Oh, ere those rising billows 'bove thee roll, 
 Say, I beseech thee, say, departing soul ! 
 
 Is it well ? 
 
 " At peace through Christ, no earthly lyre can tell 
 The ecstacy of bliss which thrills me now ; 
 Heav'n's highest joys my heaving bosom swell- 
 Its wreaths of glory press upon my brow: 
 Though homo and weeping friends no more I see, 
 A home no grief can cloud is waiting me : — 
 
 It is weU ! 
 
 m 
 
1 
 
 "XS IT WELL?" 
 
 " Yes, I am weary ; but on Jesus* breast 
 I can this aching head lay gently down : 
 Toilsome the path, but oh, how sweet the rest ! 
 
 How passing beautiful the fadeless crown ! 
 My grave is meet for me, I for my grave ; 
 He bids me come who died to bless and save : 
 Death's dark'ning waves may round me surge and sing, 
 Fast to the Living Rock my soul doth cling : — 
 
 It is weU ! " 
 
 140 
 
id sing, 
 
 DETACHED POEMS. 
 
 I 
 
DETACHED POEMS. 
 
 THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 " Now when He came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was • 
 dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow; 
 and much people of the city was with hei."~Luke vii. 12. 
 
 The scene was fair, as when o'er Eden's bowers 
 The sun first shone upon the new-born flowers, 
 And youthful Nature glow'd beneath his eye 
 In all the charms of pristine purity. 
 The earth, array'd in Summer's gorgeous dress, 
 Blush'd, like a bride, with conscious loveliness, 
 Whom twining flowers with varied bloom enwreathe, 
 And balmy odours round her person breathe. 
 The azure sky shone tranquilly and pure, 
 Nor did the gloom of passing cloud obscure 
 The radiant lustre of the orb of day. 
 Which lit the landscape with its glorious ray ; 
 
 143 
 
THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 Ki88*d the fair streamlet as it stole along, 
 Breathing in accents soft its murm'ring song, 
 Till each bright ripple, as it onward roll'd. 
 Bore on its crest a sparkling fringe of gold ; 
 Whilst feather'd choristers, from vocal throats, 
 PourM forth on air their sweet, melodious notes. 
 Which perfum'd zephyrs wafted high above, 
 A grateful anthem to the God of love. 
 
 But Nain was sad, though all was peace on high. 
 And pity dimm'd each sympathizing eye ; 
 A form belov'd from earth had passed away, 
 A widow'd parent's only hope and stay. 
 From out the city pour'd the sombre train. 
 And wound its way across the smiling plam ; 
 With solemn movement, and with muffled tread, 
 They slowly bare him to his earthy bed. 
 There were sad looks around that lowly bier,— 
 To many hearts that silent fonn was dear ; 
 Full many a sob burst from each kindred breast, 
 Full many a cheek in sorrow's garb was drest. 
 Yet was there one, bound by a closer tie, 
 Whose very soul seem'd wrung with agony ; 
 Whose pallid brow and heav'n-directed glance 
 Pourtray'd a grief too deep for utterance : 
 
 Of all earth's loves her's was the purest flame, 
 
 To mourn a son that widow'd mother came. 
 
 144 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 Declin'd he with a lengthen'd life's decay, 
 
 His features withcr'd, and his thin locks grey,— 
 
 His tott'ring frame by age and weakness bent, 
 
 His senses numb'd, his failing vigour spent ? 
 
 Fell he, as Nature's fading leaves do fall, 
 
 Wlien milder climes the swallows southward call ; 
 
 When chilly winds and weather damp and drear. 
 
 Proclaim, with voice distinct, the winter near ? 
 
 Ah, no ! that form was yet unmarr'd by Time, 
 
 Yet unexpanded into manhood's prime. 
 
 He scarce had spent a third of that brief span 
 
 Which wisely bounds the pilgrimage of man ; 
 
 Before him still, veil'd in the future, lay 
 
 An unknown space, which Hope's inviting ray 
 
 Fill'd up with pictures, welcome "to the eyes. 
 
 Of earthly bliss and converse with the skies ; 
 
 Pictures and promises too bright for Time, 
 
 And only realized in purer clime. 
 
 Thus in the very vigour of his life. 
 
 When, full of hope, he armed him for the strife. 
 
 Upon the goodly prospect fell a cloud. 
 
 And Death and darkness wrapt him in their shroud. 
 
 With what deep joy that mother hail'd his birth ! 
 To her there was not such a babe on earth ; 
 So soft, so pure, so innocent and fair, — 
 ^•^aj V.V ijr wwttuiy occmcu uOiiuciiwuu mere. 
 
 145 K 
 
THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 Fondly she gazed with love-illumin'd eyes, 
 
 And view'd each morn fresh dawning charms arise ; 
 
 Bedew'd him oft with sweetest tears of joy, 
 
 As tender vigils midnight hours employ ; 
 
 And fervent pray'rs, faith-winged, ascend above. 
 
 Invoking thence a watchful Father's love,— 
 
 That as the child advanced into the youth, 
 
 He still might seek, and serve, and love the truth. 
 
 And when God summon'd from her side to part. 
 The dear companion of her home and heart. 
 And left her weak, unaided womanhood 
 Alone to battle with the world's dark flood ; 
 E'en then, within the cup her lips must press, 
 A branch of love allay' d its bitterness : ( ^ ) 
 The dead yet lived in his surviving son. 
 Husband and child she now embraced in one ; 
 And in her offspring, suffered to remain. 
 She found a balm to soothe her spirit's palu. 
 For as the soul, of one lov'd thing bereft, 
 Clings closer still round those which yet are left, 
 So these two treasures all her woes beguil'd, — 
 Her hopes of Heav'n, her dear and winning child. 
 Like some sweet flow'ret on a barren isle. 
 He cheer' d her lonely bosom with his smile, 
 
 (1) Esod. XV, 25. 
 
 146 
 
THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 Which beam'd upon her with enliv'ning ray, 
 And chased the gloom of darkling care away ; 
 Inspired her bosom with a holy peace, 
 And bade Affliction's flowing rills to ceaso. 
 
 Perchance her deep, her fond maternal lovo, 
 Trespass'd too much on that of Ilim above, — 
 To whom the soul's devotion first is due, 
 The ' God of love,' the ever just and true, — 
 And He, her wand'ring, earthly love to chide, 
 Bore him away who turn'd her heart aside ; 
 For Death's stern hand, ere it commenced to bloom, 
 Pluck'd the fair flow'r to wither in the tomb ; 
 Eclipsed the sunshine in her widow'd breast, 
 Now pierced with anguish and with gloom opprest. 
 Still clave that heart, sore stricken, to its God, 
 And kiss'd the hand which grasp'd the chast'ning rod. 
 Beseeching grace, whate'er might be His will. 
 To bow her soul in meek submission still. 
 The tear- worn cheek, the deep and choking sob. 
 The anguish'd bosom's agonizing throb, — 
 Who would reprove emotions Nature gave ? 
 When e'en the Saviour v/ept above the grave ; 
 Let fall those precious crystals from His eye, 
 In silent grief, o'er cold mortality. 
 Slowly she moved amid the funeral train. 
 To soothe her pangs no earthly hopes remain ; 
 
 147 
 
THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 She look'd on him she loved, — lo ! lifeless clay,— 
 The soul had burat its bonds and flown away : 
 She turn'd her gaze to Heaven's extended plain, 
 Her only solace, — * There we meet again ! * 
 
 But there was One amid that silent throng 
 To whom all pow'rs 'lid bow, all might belong : 
 Whose heart was tender to the tears of woe, 
 And ever yearned sweet comfort to bestow. 
 One who could bid dark ocean's waves * Be still !* 
 Or rouse their billows at His sovereign will ; 
 Could bid the sick forsake their weary bed, 
 To heap thanksgivings on His gracious head : 
 Could bid the lame amid the dance proclaim 
 The might and glory of Messiah's name ; 
 Could bid the dumb their new-found voices raise 
 In loud hosannas, and in songs of praise : 
 Could, with a word, chill life's warm-flowing tide, 
 Or bid the tomb unfold its caverns wide, 
 Yield back its occupant, to light restored. 
 And own the sway of an Almighty Lord. 
 That loving Being could not pass her by, 
 But, with compassion beaming in His eye, 
 " Weep not,^^ He says, as softly drawing near, 
 He lays his hand upon the dead man's bier. 
 His visage shines, illum'd by Pity's ray, 
 Like fair Gennesareth at close of dav, 
 
 148 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIW. 
 
 When o'er its bosom sunbeams smile adieu, 
 
 And not a ripple waves its surface blue. 
 
 Awed by His aspect of celestial /^race, 
 
 The bearers cease their slow and mournful pace ; 
 
 To Ilim at once their wond'ring eyes tlioy raise 
 
 And e'en the chief of mourners turns to gaze. 
 
 ** Weep not!'' those accents thrill her wounded heart, 
 
 And to her soul tumultuous hopes impart,— 
 
 Hopes she can scarce define, much less express, 
 
 Yet still they seem to whisper happiness. 
 
 But, hark ! that voice again breaks on the ear, 
 
 And e'en the dead the loud appeal must hear, 
 
 *' Young man, I say to thee. Arise!''— iha strife 
 
 Is ended now, and re-awaken'd life 
 
 Hath burst the frozen bonds of icy death, 
 
 And summon'd back the once departed breath. 
 
 The soul, recall'd, returns with quick'ning flame. 
 
 To warm and animate that earthy frame ; 
 
 Along his veins careers the crimson tide. 
 
 And once again those bright eyes open wide ; 
 
 Whilst o'er that pale, emaciated cheek. 
 
 Beams forth once more health's rosy-tinted streak.. 
 
 * The dead rose up, and sat, and spake ! ' 
 
 The stoutest hearts with awe and terror quake, 
 
 As He, who broke Death's adamantine chain, 
 
 Back to the parent gives the child agam. 
 
 1^9 
 
THE WIDOW OP NATN. 
 
 Now from hor houI foIIh sorrow'H ^loom away, 
 Ah rnornin;^ miHtH beloro the dawn of day ; 
 Whilst Hwect craotion« in hor bosom hwcII, 
 Of blifla too deep-felt for her lips to toll ; 
 But flilvVy tcar-dropH Htealing down hor cheek, 
 With Hilent elo(iiionco her ^hulnean speak. 
 Fast to hor breast she claH[)a her risen child, 
 And worships Him who on her rapture smil'd. 
 
 Now thron^^inn; multitudes, with loud acclaim. 
 Pour forth the praises of Messiah's name ; 
 " A prophet ! lo, a prophet! " is the cry, 
 " God hatli come down from majesty on high ! 
 Hath visited His own, His chosen raco, 
 And opo'd the fountains of His hoav'nly grace ! 
 Men, women, children, lisping infants, raise 
 The mingled shout, and swell the note of praise, 
 Till, rising liigh, it rends the concave sky, 
 And rolls before the star-thron'd Deity 1 
 
 »> 
 
 160 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 " Whj MtAiid yo hero all th« day liUoV'-'MaU. xx, 1 
 
 A glorious privilege 'tis to live 
 
 In an ago like thia ! when God doth give 
 
 The right to labor to one and all, 
 
 To rich and to poor, — to groat and Hmall ; 
 
 When all may find something to do or dare, 
 
 In freeing this world from sin and care. 
 
 Shame on the lazy, loitering loon, 
 Who can twiddle his thumbs from mom till noon, 
 Whilst every one with the soul of a man 
 Is pushing along to the battle's van ; 
 And striving to leave his mark on an age. 
 That shall proudly gleam upon History's page ! 
 Shame on the languid miss, who can loll 
 Half her days, like a delicate doll, 
 In an easy chair, with a novel or play, 
 Whilst the rest of her sex are working away ; 
 When God has bestowed on her youth and health, 
 And time, and talents, and, may be, wealth.— 
 
 161 
 
TUl WORK AND THE WURKEAtf. 
 
 Tho namo of u ivaman who Miould fling 
 Away on that trilling, trick'd out tiling ? 
 
 Surely if wc liavo a §inglo spark 
 
 Of tho go(Mhit«»8 of (iocl in our nature dark, 
 
 Wo caiumt l>e dcatinM to travel through 
 
 This work-day world with nothing to do, — 
 
 With nought hut tho things of sense or sin 
 
 To draw out the pow'rx our hreaat witliin ; 
 
 There must he something to do or plan, 
 
 For eaeh feeling woman and true-hearted man ! 
 
 Are all the n()l)le and loving schemes 
 
 For the welfare of men, hut glowing thomcg 
 
 On which we may talk with tripping tongue, 
 
 Whilst not a nerve is for effort strung 't 
 
 Are they not rare opportunities given 
 
 To discipline souls for the courts of Heaven ? 
 
 Noble engines to work God's will. 
 
 To forward good, and to vanquish ill ? 
 
 Wherever we turn, wherever we stand, 
 
 There is plenty of work all ready to hand : 
 
 We may aid the wants of our fellow-man, 
 
 And mend his lot as best we can ; 
 
 We may save from the tavern, tho treadmill, or worse, 
 
 Tho souls that still linger beneath the curse ; 
 
 1«9 
 
THl WORK AND TBS 
 
 We may sock thorn out in tho haunts of «in» 
 
 Wlioro rf>|iml«»r and iui.sf»ry hirk within ; 
 
 VVo may l<'a<l th<nn forth to t\w Ii;rht of <lay, 
 
 And ^ivo their Mlunil.'nn;^ |)owerM full play ; 
 
 Wo may huild thorn ChurchoH, and found thorn Schools, 
 
 Check evil hahits hy lovin;^ rules ; 
 
 Wo may cloans<3 frnm woods the mental soil, 
 
 Procure thoin l^toks and honest toil ; 
 
 Wo may <f\ve thorn a place in the social scale, 
 
 And send them forth, with a cheering galo, 
 
 To plou^di the stormy sea of life, 
 
 And fi^'ht, like men, the Christian's strife. 
 
 But if there is nou^dit at hamf to strain 
 
 Your nerves, look forth on Earth's wide plain ! 
 
 The harvest of God is tall and whito, 
 
 It waits but tho sickle, keen and bri<5ht, 
 
 And its goodly sheaves will soon bo seen 
 
 Where the reaper's busy feet have been. 
 
 *' Where are tho Rcapoi-s ? " Ha,.),^ the cry I 
 
 Shall that thrilling call meet no reply '/ 
 
 Oh ! pray that tho Lord may quickly send 
 
 Faithful reapers, ready to bond 
 
 Their willing backs the fields to sweep,^ 
 
 A noble harvest of souls to reap. 
 
 And, idle friend, with nothing to do, 
 
 MaV hft fh^ r^fjl Itrtth r, a^^hla A.4. » 
 
 ^ •"^•-- -«-«•-- r 5,v Jf.vift « CCL/Xtfc JUT yuui i 
 
 153 
 
 v-i 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 If you arc a woman, you've fingers ten, 
 More taper, 'tis true, than those of men, 
 But able to furnish a mountain of * work^ 
 When the spirit is ready, — unwilling to shirk. 
 If you are a man, you have money to spare, 
 It may be perchance a goodly share ; 
 At least you've the strength to carry through 
 Whatever your hand may find to do. 
 Stand not in the market, then, day by day. 
 Idly droning your life away. 
 But look around, the world is wide, 
 And the good and the great work side by side ; 
 Yet is there room, enough and to spare, 
 For all who are willing to labor there. 
 From every grade and stage of life, 
 Christ's people flock to the noble strife ; 
 Both heaven and earth re-echo and ring. 
 With the deeds they do, and the strains they sing ; 
 Soon, soon, shall the powers of darkness yield. 
 And the banner of victory float o'er the field ! 
 
 Oh ! take your place 'mid the sons of toil, 
 Be yours the conflict, — yours the spoil ! 
 Labor may weary and moisten now. 
 But soon shall the palm-wreath bind your brow. 
 Man may scorn, oppose, and frown, 
 Mock at your efforts, and cry them down, 
 
 164 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 But let them bark and bray,— what then ? 
 
 God is your judge, not selfish men ! 
 
 The work is His, and none shall stay, 
 
 Work on in faith, and wait, and pray. 
 
 And, oh, when your earthly course is run, 
 
 How welcome your Master's words ;— '* Well done ! 
 
 Well done, laborer, true to me ! 
 
 Long have I watched and followed thee : 
 
 I know thy labor, thy works, thy love, 
 
 I have treasured them up in my book above ; 
 
 And none shall perish, no, not one. 
 
 Of the noble deeds thy hand hath done ! 
 
 They shall bloom on, as the fruits of faith. 
 
 When thy perishing body lies cold in death ; 
 
 And thou shalt be mine, for ever and aye, 
 
 In the shining realms of eternal day !" 
 
 Oh ! who would perish and pass away 
 From earth, like a clod of kindred clay ? 
 With not one streak of light to mark 
 His selfish path through this world so dark. 
 Oh ! who would sink, unmiss'd, unknown. 
 To a grave unmark'd by flower or stone ? 
 With none to love him, and none to shed 
 A tear o'er the turf above him spread ; 
 With none to breathe or bless his name. 
 When the worms have fed on his fleshly frame. 
 
 166 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 t.|i 
 
 Oh ! who would stand at the throne on high, 
 Whore the Lord of glory the world shall try , — 
 Where the angel-throng sweet strains shall sing, 
 As the faithful servants their witness brin^'. — 
 And there, 'mid the slothful and lost, be found 
 With his God-given talents still ' napkm bound ? * 
 
 Up, up, then, brother ! and take thy stand 
 'Mid the workmen of Christ, with head or hand ; 
 Blush not to be seen 'mid His laborers true, 
 But blush, if you will, that you've nothing to do ! 
 Blush that you care for nought but self, 
 For this world's pleasure, or pomp, or pelf, — 
 That, out of the thousands thine eyes can see, 
 Man, woman, nor child owes aught to thee ! 
 
 156 
 
THE DEATH-SIGNAL. 
 
 On the broad, deep blue of Ocean's breast, 
 
 May a gallant bark be seen ; 
 With the sinking sun, she steers due west, 
 
 With a tiail of foaming sheen : 
 Her snow-white sails abroad are spread 
 
 To the breeze that whispers by ; 
 The bunting flutters overhead, 
 
 But that flag is half-mast high. 
 
 The captain had one blooming child, 
 
 A motherless, fair-haired boy ; 
 Like the breeze of ocean, free and wild. 
 
 His sailor father's joy : 
 Of the whole ship's crew the blithest he,— 
 
 The lov'd of every eye ; 
 But now he lies all silently, 
 
 And the flag is half-mast high. 
 
 157 
 
 I 
 
THE DEATH-SIGNAL. 
 
 That ransom'd soul is fled and gone, 
 
 With a low and parting wail, 
 But still tho bounding bark bears on 
 
 Before the fresh'ning gale ; 
 Still, still the curling billows foam. 
 
 And the sea-bird glances by, 
 Though dark is the captain's cabin-home. 
 
 And his flag is half-mast high. 
 
 A shrouded form lies on the deck. 
 
 And the silent crew stand round ; 
 The ship might be a forsaken wreck, 
 
 So Lash'd is every sound : 
 But the voice of pray'r is on the wind. 
 
 And a low, half-utter'd cry,— 
 One passenger is left behind. 
 
 And the flag is half-mast high. 
 
 That bark on many a sea shall sail. 
 
 And brave out many a storm ; 
 But ne'er will her captain's cheek be pale 
 
 As it was o'er that dying form : 
 Whilst oft he will think of the far-off shore, 
 
 With a yearning and a sigh, 
 Where he'll meet his child, when the flag once more 
 
 Of his bark waves half-mast high. 
 
 158 
 
THE EMIGRANT'S DEPARTURE. 
 
 A Sccno in Ulstor. A.D. 1853. 
 
 Wailing aloud, a weeping band 
 
 Stood by a lonely road ; 
 In sorrow was clasp'd each trembling hand, 
 
 And glittering tear-drops flow'd : 
 Women were there, and their piercing cry 
 
 Came sad on the balmy air. 
 Though the birds sang sweet, and the noontide sky 
 
 Smiled soft on the landscape fair. 
 
 Thus far they'd trudg'd from their native place, 
 
 Till their weary feet were sore, 
 A kiss, — a sob, — one last embrace, — 
 
 And the parting scene was o'er : 
 The parents' grief was shed o'er a son, 
 
 O'er a brother the sister's tear. 
 And perchance in the group there yet was one 
 
 To whom he was still more dear. 
 
 159 
 
i! 
 
 TUE emigrant's departure. 
 
 Onward ho goes, but the mournful swell 
 
 Of that cry still greets his ear, — 
 Soundcth it not like a heart-rung knell 
 
 For a lost one, lov'd and dear ? 
 And perchance it is, for an only child 
 
 Is leaving his early homo, — 
 Ilis grave may be the ocean wild. 
 
 And his shroud the curling foam. 
 
 He pauses again for a farewell sight 
 
 Of that sad but faithful band ; 
 The road forsaken, they've climb'd the height, 
 
 In a clustering group they stand : 
 They wave the hand as a last adieu, 
 
 They strain the aching eye, — 
 May the pray'r they breathe, as he fades from view, 
 
 Find grace with One on high! 
 
 A blessing on thee, exiled lad, — 
 
 A blessing night and day ! 
 Well may thy home-sick heart be sad, 
 
 As thou tread'st thy lonely way : 
 Though slow thy step, and dim thine eye, — 
 
 Though tears bedew thy cheek, 
 Blush not at the glance of the passer-by, 
 
 Nor fear he wJli deem thee weak. 
 
 160 
 
THE emigrant's DEPARTTJIIB. 
 
 Oh no, not so ! ho will honor thoo more 
 
 For that pure and simple sign 
 Of love, than if thou the proudest wore 
 
 In the gem resi)lendent mhio ; 
 Then brush not away that tear, fond boy! 
 
 In truth it becomes thee well ; 
 And oh ! in thy after hours of joy, 
 
 Remember for whom it fell. 
 
 Veil, veil, sweet Erin, thy tearful face, 
 
 And thy tuneful harp unstring ! 
 Wliilst sad are the homes of thy chosen race, 
 
 Can its joyous changes ring ? 
 Still, feel in thy bosom a glow of pride 
 
 Though the rich and great may scorn. 
 The fervent love of thy children tried 
 
 Would honor the noblest bom ! 
 
 161 
 
CHIMES OF THE SEA. 
 
 Bom in the earliest dawn of Time, 
 
 I shall be till Time is o'er ; 
 I sing my songs in every dime, 
 
 And compass every shore : 
 From North to South, from East to West, 
 
 My giant waves are hurl'd ; 
 Was there ever a monarch like me, possess'd 
 
 Of more than half a world ? 
 
 I'm grave, I'm gay, I shout or sing, 
 
 As it suits my varying mind. 
 But, whatever my state, I wonder bring 
 
 To the hearts of human kind : 
 And when first I show to stranger eyes. 
 
 The majesty girding me. 
 How thrills his heart as he wildly cries 
 
 " The sea ! The sea ! The sea !" 
 
 162 
 
CniMES OP THE SEA. 
 
 Tlio broad Atlantic's ray hall of prido, 
 
 A myriad sorfa I own, 
 And at every ebb of my mighty tide, 
 
 Thoy gather ahmt my throne ; 
 They come, the near and the far away, 
 
 From cave, and cliff, and tower, 
 From golden fields and gardens gay. 
 
 And many a lady's bower. 
 
 In the fair Pacific I love to smile, 
 
 And lull my waves to rest, 
 While many a glittering coral isle 
 
 Gleams bright on my heaving breast : 
 But far away in the Northern seas, 
 
 I am chill'd to the very soul. 
 For the icy winds my heart's blood freeze 
 
 As I circle the silent Pole. 
 
 I bask beneath Italian skies, — 
 
 I muse by classic Greece, 
 And scarce can an angry feeling ris(» 
 
 'Mid scenes so full of peace ; 
 And even I, over Glory's grave, 
 
 A tear can almost shed. 
 As I flow with bright and placid wave 
 
 By the ' city of the dead.' 
 
 163 
 
i 
 
 0BIMB8 OF TnS flA. 
 
 I wandor among the Ilebrides, 
 
 Down i^tttfftt's Holoiun aialea, 
 And dear to .ny t >ul i^ the paaaing broeie 
 
 From lona'ii sacred piloa; 
 For it whispers of agon dark and dioar, 
 
 Of a well nigh pagan night, 
 When outcast Truth fomd a rofuge here, 
 
 And shone as a beacon bright. 
 
 Around Columbia's rocks I roar, 
 
 And woalthy Hindustan ; 
 And many a bleak and barren shore, 
 
 Untrod by the foot •{* man : 
 But Albion's isle I guurd with awe, 
 
 For I honor her bulwarks wliite, 
 And woe to the foe who defies her law, 
 
 When she rules for truth and right ! 
 
 Wherever my endless waters foam, 
 
 Her red cross flag's uiifurl'd, 
 As proudly she bears to her island home 
 
 The wealth of a teeming world : 
 And scatters abroad, with b. anteous hand^ 
 
 The blessings her God hath given, — 
 * The freedom of thought of her own free land. 
 
 And the faith which lights to Heaven.' 
 
 164 
 
CHIMES OP THE SEA. 
 
 Spain, Venice, and Cirthago, where aro they ? 
 
 And where aro the wreaths they won ? 
 Thoy are silent all, in Fano'g docay,— 
 
 Their course of glory's run ; 
 But a mightier monarch now wears my crown, 
 
 For it grar< vt Ih-itannia's head, — 
 M»y her garments of state be Truth and JleaowD, 
 
 Till her mission be nobly spod ! 
 
 IM 
 
1 
 I? 
 
 IIAVELOCK'S GRAVE.* 
 
 II 
 
 moro docs the mi^^hty iravelock sleep ? 
 
 VVlio, with ttviMi;;in;i; Hword, 
 Like 8omo {lorce whirlwind o'er the deep, 
 
 Burst through the heathen horde ; 
 Wlio bore, amid (hirk «uttlo»H frown, 
 Relief to Lucknow'rt leu^^'uerM town, 
 
 And vauish'd hope restor'd. 
 
 *' Exugi mouuujoutuw aro peronnius I " 
 
 Hor. Car. III. 30. 
 
 tree. couKl i traced 1 !^M"';;^,^;:;t;;^ """" "" *^' *'""'' "'' «* 
 
Wliorc HloopH i]w Christian HoMior now— 
 
 Now that liin oourMc in n|)c»l, 
 And Fame htm wrouthM hor fuv'rito*a brow ? 
 
 Wlioro rcstH \m wtmry hoad 
 Who sought not only nmn'H applause, 
 But in IIiurmnity'H lii^^h cause 
 
 Ilk lit'u bluod I'rccly bIiuU ? 
 
 ct from tho 
 ("•I by Dr. 
 H> country, 
 nifiit tu hiri 
 itioti tu tho 
 A Huitablo 
 rnoHt piuty 
 uioru truly 
 
 ). 
 
 avelock ho 
 or that itri 
 
 thu ouuii- 
 c WU8 hur- 
 ucknow, I 
 3atth», and 
 
 it wat) a 
 Tunkof a 
 10 iuscrip* 
 
 Licfl ho bonoath some sacred pile, 
 
 Amid the ^o<hI and j^roat, 
 In uoleiun, Htill cathedral uidle, 
 
 In military state ; 
 Where England'n sons and daughters fair 
 Oft love to linger, tearful, there, 
 
 To muse upon his fate ? 
 
 Lies ho, as heroes lay of old, 
 
 'Neath some majestic mound, 
 
 Rear'd by the noble and the bold 
 Where silence reigns around ; 
 
 Whore friend and foe with rev'rence meet, 
 
 And feel the spot beneath their feet 
 Is consecrated ground ? 
 
 l»t 
 
 I 
 
havelock's grave. 
 
 No, pilgrim ! seek no solemn pile, 
 No mound on battle plain, 
 
 No dim and still cathedral aisle, 
 
 Thy search would be but vain : 
 
 But hither turn thy longing eyes. 
 
 Draw near in mute and sad surprise, 
 With mingled grief and pain. 
 
 Behold this rude, unhallow'd spot, 
 This unclean, open space, — 
 
 Nay, pilgrim, pause— despise it not— 
 Turn not aside thy face ; 
 
 Though dogs and cattle prowl around, 
 
 That * shallow sinking in the ground * 
 Is Havelock's resting place ! 
 
 This tree that lifts its friendly head 
 
 To shelter and to save, 
 Serves both as tombstone for the dead 
 
 And tablet for the brave ; 
 Upon its bark one letter stands, 
 Inscribed by fond and faithful hands, 
 
 To mark the hero's grave. 
 
 168 
 
havelock's grave. 
 
 What though his bones neglected lie, 
 
 Unguarded and alone ; 
 What though no rival artists vie 
 
 To rear the sculptur'd stone : 
 He needs no monumental state, 
 Which makes man neither good nor great 
 
 Before th' Almighty's throne. 
 
 His name's a cherish'd ' household word,' 
 Enshrin'd in English hearts ; 
 
 Where'er its honor'd sound is heard. 
 Full many a tear-drop starts : 
 
 His fame — his pure, unsullied fame, 
 
 Shall burn with never-dying flame 
 Till England's glory parts ! 
 
 But, oh ! more blest, more happy still, — 
 Long ere his strifes were o'er, 
 
 He look'd to Zion's holy hill 
 
 From Earth's attractive shore ; 
 
 Now, risen on the wings of Faith, 
 
 His soul has cross'd the stream of Death, 
 And lives for evermore ! 
 
 169 
 
MEMORIAL OF MACAULAY. 
 
 J' Vol paco vol bello clarura fieri llcot: A qui fecero, et qui facta aliorum 
 «cnpsorc, multi laudantur."— Sail. Cat. cap. 3. 
 
 Bereaved Britain, weep ! for thou 
 
 Hast lost a noble son, 
 With wreaths all fresh upon his brow, 
 
 The wreaths by genius won ; 
 His glory, by no cloud o'ercast, 
 Resplendent to the very last, 
 
 Has set like mid-day sun ! 
 
 He lies amid the noble dead. 
 Whose names can never die 
 
 Till Time his weary course has sped. 
 And shines Eternity : 
 
 The same high honors round him close, 
 
 His cherish'd bones with theirs repose,- 
 Methinks I see him lie ! 
 
 ITO 
 
MEMORIAL GP MACAULAY. 
 
 Above Macaulay's honorM tomb, 
 Three figures seem to stand : 
 Sweet flowers, with never-dying bloom, 
 
 Fall from each quiv'ring hand ; 
 On him are bent their earnest eyes, 
 For him their bosoms heave with sighs ,- 
 Who form this mournful band ? 
 
 There History with her scroll is seen. 
 With pensive look and sage, 
 
 Whilst many a tear-drop with its sheen 
 Spangles the glorious page ; 
 
 That page o*er which her child has thrown 
 
 A light, a halo all his own, 
 
 To shine through many an age. 
 
 There Poesy's graceful figure droops. 
 Her sweet-ton'd lyre unstrung ; 
 
 There Eloquence in silence stoops. 
 For sorrow chains his tongue : 
 
 Long shall they deeply grieve for him. 
 
 Long shall their tearful eyes be dim, 
 And mournful r^otes be sung ! 
 
 iti 
 
MEMORIAL OF MACAULAY. 
 
 Bard and Mutorian, who hast spread 
 
 Before a nation's gaze 
 Bright pages, which have o'er thee shed 
 
 Such beams of human praise ; 
 May thme own history, writ above, 
 Beam bright with Christian faith and love, 
 
 And angel itnthems raise ! 
 
 1*12 
 
ON THE DECEASE OF THE PRINCE CONSORT. 
 
 A.D. I80I. .ffiT.41. 
 
 " Quia desidcrio sit pudor ant modus 
 Tttmcaii capitis!" 
 
 Hor. Car. Lib. I. M 
 
 A nation weeps — and why ? 
 A brother hath departed, 
 Noble, and Christian-hearted, 
 
 To bliss on high : 
 A prince hath past from earth, 
 Whose deeds of love and worth 
 
 Shall never die. 
 
 A nation weeps — and why ? 
 A bright and precious gem, 
 From England's diadem, 
 
 Is now laid by : 
 A pure and gifted mind 
 No more shall lead mankind 
 
 To triumphs high. 
 173 
 
ON THE DECEASE OF TUE PRINCE CONSORT. 
 
 A nation weops — and why ? 
 Each man hath lost a friend ; 
 The poor, one who could bend 
 
 With pitying eye, 
 To learn and meet their need 
 With kindly word and deed, 
 
 And sympathy. 
 
 A nation weops — and why ? 
 In its lov'd Queen's distress, 
 A husband's tenderness 
 
 It would supply ; 
 As grief her spirit stirs, 
 Minghng its tears with hers. 
 
 No eye is dry. 
 
 Thus England's grief flows on, 
 Above that silent tomb 
 Where fondest mem'ries bloom : 
 
 She weeps with one 
 Whose deeper grief she shares, 
 Yet speak their mingled pray'rs — 
 
 " QocCs will he done ! '* 
 
 174 
 
THE FAITHFUL STEWARD/ 
 
 "Inasmuch 08 yo have dono it unto ono of the loast of theeo ray brethren 
 ye have dono it unto iao."~MaU. xxv. 40. umnren, 
 
 Steward of Christ ! when cank'ring rust 
 
 Hath dimm'd Earth's glory and her gold ; 
 
 When, sleeping 'neath the gath'ring dust, 
 Thy frame lies tenantless and cold ; 
 
 When thou art summon'd to resign 
 
 That mighty stewardship of thine, 
 
 Then shall thy faithfulness be told. 
 
 of*xTnfl"/° J,"'""«™«''««r o*' Mr. Goorge Peabody'. parting donation 
 of £150.000 to the poor of London, in which city this Christian-niind.S 
 
 ThureJ^Ts and i'T '^?"" ^'" '''"^^ "'^ ^^'" ^ Danvc.: M^ 
 Bacnuseits, u. S., and m humble circumstanceB. 
 
 175 
 
THE FAITHFUL STEWAUD. 
 
 UnuumbcrM mm of wretchedness 
 
 Shall breathe in pray'r thy cheriah'd name,- 
 Shall tell how, in their deep distress, 
 
 Thy bounty (pnckenM Hope's dull flame ; 
 Wlien o'er life's dark and tr()u!)led stream 
 A comforting and cheering beam. 
 
 Like smile from heaven, sweetly camo. 
 
 \id i. 
 
 " I was an hungred, — thou didst fdl 
 
 This wasted frame with strength'ning meat ! '* 
 " Parch'd wore these fev'rish lips until 
 
 Thy love provided cordial sweet ! " 
 *' I was a homeless child, and bare, 
 Till, warmly clothed and housed with care, 
 
 Thy mercy took me from the street ! '* 
 
 Oh ! when before the judgment throne. 
 
 How dear to Christ — how dear to thee, 
 
 (Though ne'er for sin it can atone,) 
 Shall that unfailing witness be ; 
 
 When thousands rise to call thee blest, 
 
 And thus, with mingled voice, attest 
 Thy love and thy fidelity ! 
 
 176 
 
THE PAmiPtTL STBWARD^, 
 
 Yo men of rank, or moniod wortli ! 
 
 Wlioae bursting granaries enfold 
 The riches of the teeming earth,— 
 
 Whoso iron coffers hoard her gold : 
 Circled by all wealth can command, 
 Soon will your Lord account demand 
 
 Of ev'ry talent you may hold. 
 
 Remember, then, whoso love did bless 
 Your patient labour, year by year, 
 
 Who crown'd each effort with success, 
 
 Outstripp'd each hope, allay'd each fear: 
 
 Freely for Christ let that be spent 
 
 Which Ho for Time has only lent, 
 
 And lay not up your treasure here ! 
 
 Should future bickerings arise. 
 
 Or varying interests clash and jar ; 
 
 Should o'er the calm and radiant skies 
 The threat'ning clouds be spread afar. 
 
 And Britain and Columbia stand, 
 
 Sternly opposed, with sword in hand. 
 Intent on fratricidal war : 
 
 m 
 
 M 
 
THE PAITITFUL STEWARD. 
 
 Woo be to hor whoso cursed brand 
 
 Shall first bo stained with human gore ! 
 
 Shall tirst dissever that blest band 
 
 Which knits together each far shore, 
 
 Whore, pleading claims of brotherhood, 
 
 Are heard on either side the flood 
 The prayers of Britain's poor. 
 
 1^8 
 
ON Yiunm THE tomb of tiie late 
 
 REV. J. B. 
 
 A, D. 1866. 
 
 Horo tlio Friend— the Ilusband^the Father 
 Where the grass is fresh and groon, 
 
 But the lonely widow sighs and weeps 
 Whore the billows roll between ; 
 
 And each orphan bears, in her chasten'd breast, 
 
 A gap she will strive in vain 
 To fill, till she meets, in eternal rest, 
 
 With that dear-lov'd form again. 
 
 Their tears cannot dew the sacred stone— 
 Nor their deep sighs murmur there— 
 
 Nor can that spot, so far and lone, 
 Re-echo their broken pray'r. 
 
 179 
 
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 Sciences 
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 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
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 5 
 
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.-HM'IWI 
 
 ON VISITING THE TOMB OP THE LATE REV. J. B, 
 
 The dwellings of strangers are gather'd round — 
 
 Not a kinsman's home is seen — 
 But, say ! will no sorrowing form be found, 
 
 Which oft to that spot hath been ? 
 
 Will Memory brln^ no mourner there, 
 
 To pour at that lonely shrine 
 A tribute tear, or a simple pray'r. 
 
 When the sun's bright beams decline ? 
 
 Will the snow be spread from day to day 
 
 Round his silent resting place, 
 And no friendly foot, ere it melts away. 
 
 Leave a single friendly trace ? 
 
 Ah, yes ! though the world hath hard, cold hearts, 
 
 Yet they are not all so dead, 
 But some will grieve when a friend departs. 
 
 And visit his lowly bed : 
 
 So, often here will the fond few stray, 
 Who knew and could feel his worth 
 
 Who now, till the dawn of a brighter day. 
 Sleeps on in the womb of Earth ! 
 
 180 
 
ON VISITINO TEW TOMB OP THE LATE REV. J. B. 
 
 And some, perchance, in the sacred fane 
 
 Who have heard his accents flow 
 Will fancy they hear him oft again, 
 
 Though his form be cold and low ; 
 
 And bear abroad in their after life, 
 
 Through his means, the Christian's sign, 
 
 * A heart that loves, 'mid a world of strife. 
 To muse upon things divme.' 
 
 But chiefly the poor, and friendless old, 
 
 Will oft to this spot repair, — 
 To the tomb of a friend, whose heart and gold 
 
 Could never withstand their pray'r. 
 
 Then think not he slumhera for gotten here 
 
 That his name 's like a fallen star,— 
 
 There are bosoms that cherish it fondly near, 
 And many that love it afar ! 
 
 181 
 
THE PIONEERS/ 
 
 Alas ! for the daring spirits, 
 
 Now past from earth away, 
 Whose noble forms are resting 
 
 Beneath their kindred clay ; 
 Who, spent with toil and hunger, 
 
 Lay calmly down to die, 
 With none but God above them 
 
 To catch their latest sigh. 
 
 
 Forth went those desert wand'rers. 
 
 Steadfast, and true, and bold. 
 As ever beaded pilgrim 
 
 Set forth in days of old ; 
 Forth went they, in their manhood, 
 
 To dare the trackless wild. 
 But on their safe returning 
 
 No friends looked forth and smiled. 
 
 • A tribute to the memory of Burke and WUls, who perished whilst 
 exploring the interior of the continent of Australia, A. D. 1861. 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Thoir gaze was on the future, 
 
 When, 'neath those glowing skies, 
 And 'mid those tangled marshes, 
 
 j'air villages shall rise : 
 When farms and peaceful homesteads 
 
 Shall shine and nestle there, 
 And lowing herds and reapers 
 
 Make music on the air. 
 
 They dreamed not then, those doomed ones. 
 
 That they from earth must pass, 
 Ere another summer's bronzes 
 
 Should wave the blooming grass ; 
 They saw not those wan figures 
 
 Fall, silent, one by one, — 
 They saw not those stark bodies 
 
 Lie festering in the sun. 
 
 Across the fertile regions, 
 
 With ruddy com now spread. 
 Some straggling forms first wander'd 
 
 "With slow and weary tread ; 
 Athwart the seething ocean. 
 
 Which guards the golden shore. 
 Some bolder hands first ventured^ 
 
 To seek the precious ore. 
 
 183 
 
am 
 
 mmmm 
 
 SB 
 
 SH 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Oft, afl the hosts of Commerce 
 
 O'er earth go marching on, 
 Some whitening bones will show us 
 
 Another outpost won ; 
 Yet will each bolder spirit 
 
 Still ever seek the van, 
 Till desert,— ;;>rairie, — forest, 
 
 Confess the sway of man. 
 
 So in the path of learning, 
 
 Of Science, Liberty, 
 Will minds of highest mettle 
 
 The foremost strive to be ; 
 What though they fail of reaching 
 
 Their grand and lofty prize, 
 At least their prostrate bodies 
 
 Shall help mankind to rise. 
 
 Then hail to the noble vanguard — 
 
 The world's brave pioneers ! 
 All honor to their courage, — 
 
 To their memory our tears ! 
 Theirs is the suffering hardship, 
 
 The seed-time and the toil : 
 For those who may come after 
 
 The harvest and the spoil. 
 
 184 
 
TUi: PIONEKRS. 
 
 Shall we, who reap their sowing. 
 
 Think lightly of their dust ? 
 Nay, gather it in silence, 
 
 Deem it a solemn trust : 
 And let a fitting tribute 
 
 Above their tomb be seen. 
 Whilst a grateful people's record 
 
 Preserves their memory green. 
 
 185 
 
INSCRIPTION FOR A TIME-PIECE. 
 
 As oft you gazo upon my face 
 And watch each moment's rapid pace, 
 Let every ' tick ' a warning be — 
 How brief the time allow'd to thee ! 
 
 And let each fleeting hour be fraught 
 With holy deed or heavenward thought, 
 That, when the hands of Time are still, 
 Eternal joy thy soul may fill ! 
 
 FINIS.