FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY ^- Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from Calvin College http://www.archive.org/details/hymnsofagesthirdOOwhit Uniform with this Volume. HTMNS OF THE AGES. First Series. Being Selections from Lyra Catholica, Germanica, Apostolica, and other Sources. With an Introduction by Rev. F. D. Huntington, D. D. One Volume. HTMNS OF THE AGES. Second Series. Being Selections from Wither, Crashaw, Southwell, Habington, and other Sources. One Volume. TICKNOR AND FIELDS, Publishers. :i ^pfi 5419 36 HYMNS OF THE AGES. THIRD SERIES. ^ Ca.ro\\o^ S. Wlrntmar^K BOSTON: TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 1865. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, b)' TICKNOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts University Press: Welch, Bigelow, and Company, Cambridge. REFACE. THE private commonplace-book which found its way into print some years ago, and to which, from a certain flavor of antiquity in its contents, we gave the title of Hymns of the Ages, is swelling to an anthology. In editing our firfl: series we hardly knew from what a perennial ftream we had dipped, and to what an indulgent public the draught was offered. More careful research has surprised and bewildered us vvith our riches. We have not room to-day for half the material which lies before us in manu- script. The Ages all resound with sacred song, " the elders having every one of them harps, and gold- en vials full of odors, which are the prayers of saints"; and for this youngeft age, with its " teachings of God," who is so dull that he would vi Preface. not turn from all traditions of the elders rather than lose its ring, — none surer to reach the Throne ! The present differs from our previous series in the larger space accorded to hymns "In Time of War," and " For Old Age." We have been advised to include hymns by Watts, Weiley, Cow- per, and others, which had been rejected hitherto as common in Church colle6lions ; and have also given as many as we could find of the myftical, tender songs of Madame Guyon, they being out of print in this country. Nor have we failed to discover a few more of the rich old Latin hymns which, filtering down through German and Englifh tranflations, sink as deeply into the heart to-day as if they had only now reached native ground; proving ftill that before the Eternal all hearts are one, and the centuries are but as watches of a night. " Every inmost aspiration is God's angel undefiled ; And in every *0 my Father!' flumbers deep a 'Here, my Child ! ' " C. S. W. A. E. G. RoxBURY, Odtober 3, 1864. Contents PAGE In Time of War i Affliction 35 Patience 69 Prayer 78 Praise 133 Self-Examination 147 God 158 Christ 166 The Holy Spirit 175 Love 181 Quiet 221 Old Age 245 Death 275 Heaven 288 Sunday . .' 304 The One Church 316 Index to First Lines 325 a IN TIME OF WAR. TO-DAY IF YE WILL HEAR HIS VOICE! OUR God ! our God ! Thou fhineft here Thine own this latter day ; To us thy radiant fteps appear ; Here leads thy glorious way ! We fhine not only with the light Thou didft fhed down of yore ; On us thou ftreameft ftrong and bright ; Thy comings are not o'er. The fathers had not all of thee ; New births are in thy grace ; All open to our souls fhall be Thy glory's hiding-place. We gaze on thy outgoings bright, Down Cometh thy full power ; We, the glad bearers of thy light ; This, this thy saving hour ! In Time of War. On us thy spirit haft thou poured ; To us thy word has come ; We feel, we bless, thy quickening. Lord ! Thou fhalt not find us dumb. Thou comeft near ; thou ftandeft by ; Our work begins to fliine ; Thou dwelleft with us mightily, — On come the years divine ! r. H. Gill OLD AND NEW. O SOMETIMES gleams upon our fight, Through present wrong, the Eternal Right ! And ftep by ftep, fince time began. We see the fteady gain of man ; — That all of good the paft hath had Remains to make our own time glad. Our common daily life divine. And every land a Paleftine. We lack but open eye and ear To find the Orient's marvels here, — The ftill small voice in autumn's hufli. Yon maple wood the burning bufh. In Time of War. For ftill the new transcends the old, In fioins and tokens manifold : Slaves rise up men ; the olive waves With roots deep set in battle graves. Through the harfli noises of our day A low, sweet prelude finds its way ; Through clouds of doubt and creeds of fear A light is breaking, calm and clear. Henceforth my heart fhall figh no more For olden time and holier fhore ; God's love and blefling, then and there. Are now, and here, and everywhere. J. G. IVhittier. THE DAY OF THE LORD ! I THE day of the Lord is at hand, at hand. The ftorms roll up the fky ; A nation fleeps ftarving on heaps of gold. All dreamers toss and figh. When the pain is soreft, the child is born, And the day is darkeft before the morn Of the day of the Lord at hand. In Time of JVar. Gather you, gather you, angels of God ; Chivalry, Juftice, and Truth ; Come, for the earth is grown coward and old \ Come down and renew us her youth ! Freedom, Self-sacrifice, Mercy, and Love, Hafl:e to the battle-field, ftoop from above, To the day of the Lord at hand. Gather you, gather you, hounds of hell, — Famine, and Plague, and War ; Idleness, Bigotry, Cant, and Misrule, Gather, — and fall in the snare! Hirelings and Mammonites, Pedants and Knaves, Crawl to the battle, or sneak to your graves, In the day of the Lord at hand. Who would fit down and whine for a loft Age of Gold While the Lord of all ages is here ? True hearts will leap up at the trumpet of God, And those who can suffer can dare. Each paft Age of Gold was an iron age too. And the meekeft of saints may find ftern work to do In the day of the Lord at hand. Kev. Charles King/ley. I In Time of IVar. 5 BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. A /r INE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the A i Lord : He is trampling out are ftored ; the vintage where the grapes of wrath He hath loosed the sword : fateful lightnings of His terrible swift His truth is marching on. I h ave seen him in camps ; the watch-fires of a hundred circling Th ;y have builded damps ; Him an altar in the evening dews and I can read His righteous sentence bv the dim and flaring lamps : His day is marching on. I have read a fiery g ospel writ in burnifhed rows of fteel : "As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace | fliall deal ; Let the Hero, born heel, of woman, crufh the serpent with his L Since God is marching on." 6 In Time of War. He has sounded forth the trumpet that (hall never call retreat ; He is fifting out the hearts of men before His judgment- seat : Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet ! Our God is marching on. In the beauty of the lilies Chrift was born across the sea. With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me : As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free. While God is marching on. Mrs. 'Julia JVard Howe. THY WILL BE DONE. WE see not, know not ; all our way Is night : with Thee alone is day. From out the torrent's troubled drift, Above the ftorm our praver we lift, Thy will be done ! The flefh may fail, the heart may faint. But who are we to make complaint, Or dare to plead in times like these The weakness of our love of ease? Thy will be done ! /// Time of War. 7 We take with solemn thankfulness Our burden up, nor allc it less, And count it joy that even we May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee, Whose will be done ! Though dim as yet in tint and line, We trace Thy picture's wise defign. And thank Thee that our age supplies The dark relief of sacrifice. Thy will be done ! And if, in our unworthiness. Thy sacrificial wine we press. If fr Dm Thy ordeal's heated bars Our feet are seamed with crimson scars. Thy will be done ! If, for the age to come, this hour Of trial hath vicarious power. And, bleft by thee, our present pain Be Liberty's eternal gain, Thy will be done ! Strilc e. Thou the Mafter, we Thy keys, The anthem of the deftinies ! The minor of Thy loftier ftrain. Our hearts fhall breathe the old refrain, Thy will be done ! 7 G. Whlttier. In Time of JVar. ST. CHRISTOPHER. CARRY me across ! " The Syrian heard, rose up and braced His huge Hmbs to the accuftomed toil : " My child, see how the waters boil } The night-black heavens look angry-faced ; But life is little loss. " I '11 carry thee with joy, If needs be, safe as neftling dove : Por o'er this ftream I pilgrims bring In service to one Chrift, a King Whom I have never seen, yet love." " I thank thee," said the boy. Cheerful, Arprobus took The burden on his (houlders great. And ftepped into the waves once more ; When lo ! they leaping rise and roar. And 'neath the little child's light weight The tottering giant fliook. " Who art thou .'' " cried he wild. Struggling in middle of the ford : " Boy as thou look'ft, it seems to me I f /;/ Time of I Far. 9 The whole world's load I bear in thee. Yet — " " For the sake of Chriil, thy Lord, Carry me," said the child. No more Arprobus swerved. But gained the farther bank, and then A voice cried, " Hence Chrijhpheros be ! | For carrying, thou haft carried me. The King of angels and of men. The Mafter thou haft served." And in the moonlight blue The saint saw — not the wandering boy. But Him who walked upon the sea And o'er the plains of Galilee, Till, filled with myftic, awful joy. His dear Lord Chrift he knew. 0, little is all loss. And brief the space 'twixt ftiore and ftiore, If th ou. Lord Jesus, on us lay. Through the deep waters of our way, The burden that Chriftopheros bore, — To carry Thee across. Mhs D. Muloch. I O In Time of JVar. THE SPIRIT OF TRUTH. THOU, long disowned, reviled, oppreft, Strange friend of human kind, Seeking through weary years a reft Within our hearts to find ; — How late thy bright and awful brow Breaks through these clouds of fin ! Hail, Truth Divine ! we know thee now, Angel of God, come in ! Come, though with purifying fire, And desolating sword, Thou of all nations the defire ! Earth waits thy cleanfing word. Struck by the lightning of thy glance. Let old oppreflions die ; Before thv cloudless countenance Let fear and falsehood fly. Anoint our eyes with healing grace. To see, as ne'er before. Our Father in our brother's face, Our Maker in His poor. In Time of War. 1 1 Plood our dark life with golden day ; Convince, subdue, enthrall ; Then to a mightier yield thy sway, And Love be all in all. Eliza Scudder. REIGN OF CHRIST. KINGDOMS and thrones to God belong; Crown him, ye nations, in your song •, His wondrous names and powers rehearse ; His honors shall enrich your verse. He fhakes the heavens with loud alarms ; How terrible is God in arms ! In Israel are his mercies known ; Israel is his peculiar throne. Proclaim him King, — pronounce him bleft ; He is your life, your jov, your reft ; When terrors rise, and nations faint, God is the ftrength of every saint, Isaac Watts. 12 In 'Time of IVar. THE foe behind, the deep before. Our hofts have dared and paffed the sea And Pharaoh's warriors ftrew the fliore, And Israel's ransomed tribes are free. Lift up, lift up your voices now ! The whole wide world rejoices now ! The Lord hath triumphed glorioufly ! The Lord fhall reign vi6lorioufly ! Happy morrow. Turning sorrow Into peace and mirth ! Bondage ending. Love descending O'er the earth ! Seals affuring. Guards securing. Watch his earthly prison : Seals are (battered. Guards are scattered, Chrift hath risen ! No longer muft the mourners weep, Nor call departed Chriftians dead ; For death is hallowed into fleep And every grave becomes a bed. Now once more Eden's door /;/ Time of IVar. Open ftands to mortal eves ; For Chrift hath risen, and men ftiall rise Now at laft, Old things paft, Hope and joy and peace begin : For Chrill: hath won, and man fhall win. 13 It is not exile, reft on high : It is not sadness, peace from ftrife : To fall afleep is not to die ; To dwell with Chrift is better life. Where our banner leads us. We may safely go : Where our Chief precedes us, We may face the foe. His right arm is o'er us, He will guide us through : Chrift hath gone before us ; Chriftians ! follow you ! J. M. Neale. 1851, THUS saith God of His Anointed ; He fhall let my people go ; 'T is the work for Him appointed, 'T is the work that He ftiall do ; And my city He ftiall found, and build it too. 14 In Time of JVar. He whom man with scorn refuses, Whom the favored nation hates, He it is Jehovah chooses. Him the higheft place awaits ; Kings and princes Shall do homage at His gates. He (hall humble all the scorners. He (hall fill His foes with {hame ; He fhall raise and comfort mourners By the sweetness of His name j To the captives He fliall liberty proclaim. He fhall gather those that wandered ; When they hear the trumpet's sound. They {hall join the sacred ftandard. They fhall come and flock around ; He fhall save them, They fhall be with glory crowned. Thomas Kelley. 1S09. PRAYER BEFORE BATTLE. FATHER, I call on thee. Through the dun smoke and the clangor of battle. The lightning and dread thunder's rattle ; War's great Dispenser, I call on thee. Thou, Father, lead me. In Time of War. 1 5 Thou, Father, lead me ; Lead me to victory, or lead me to death. Lord, in thy hand is my breath ; Lord, as thou willelt, so lead me. God, I would know thee. God, I would know thee ; When, like the autumn leaves driven together, Hofts meet in war's thunder-weather. Source of my faith, I would know thee. Thou, Father, bless me. Thou, Father, -bless me. Into thy hands would my freed spirit go ; Recall it, for thou didft beftow. In life and in death do thou bless me. Father, I praise thee. Father, I praise thee. This is the field for the fight of the Lord ; Guard we our faith with the sword. In fall or in triumph, I praise thee. God, I give all to thee. God, I give all to thee. When, on the battle-field, death sends me greeting, When my warm life-blood is fleeting. Take me, for thou haft redeemed me. Father, I call on thee. From the German of Korner. 1 791 -18 1 3. 1 6 In Time of JVar. PSALM. A SAFE ftronghold our God is 'ftill, A trufty fhield and weapon ; He '11 help us clear from all the ill That hath us now o'ertaken. The ancient prince of Hell Hath risen with purpose fell ; Strong mail of craft and power He weareth in this hour : On earth is not his fellow. With force of arms we nothing can ; Full soon were we down-ridden, But for us fights the proper man, Whom God himself hath bidden. Afk ye, who is this same ? Chrift Jesus is his name, The Lord Zebaoth's Son : He, and no other one. Shall conquer in the battle. And were this world all devils o'er And watching to devour us. We lay it not to heart so sore. Not that they can overpower us. /;/ Time of IVar. I 7 And let the prince of Hell Look grim as e'er he will, He harms us not a whit ; For why ? His doom is writ, A word fhall quickly flay him. God's word, for all their craft and force, One moment will not linger, But, spite of Hell, fhall have its course : 'Tis written by his finger. And though they take our life. Goods, honor, children, wife. Yet is their profit small : These things fhall vanifh all, The City of God remaineth. Martin Luther. 1483- 15GI. BURIED TOGETHER. TO COLONEL ROBERT G. SHAW. O FAIR-HAIRED Northern hero. With thy guard of dufky hue. Up from the field of battle Rise to the lafl review! 1 8 In Time of War. Sweep downwards, holy angels, In legions dazzling bright, And bear these souls together Before Chrill's throne of light. The Mafter, who remembers The cross, the thorns, the spear, Smiles on the risen freedmen. As their ransomed souls appear. And thou, young, generous spirit. What will thy welcome be ? " Thou haft aided the down-trodden. Thou haft done it unto me ! " Mrs. R. a JVaterJhn. C^ O to the grave in all thy glorious prime, T In full activity of zeal and power ; A Chriftian cannot die before his time ; The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. Go to the grave ; at noon from labor cease ; Reft on thy ftieaves ; thy harveft-tafk is done ; Come from the heat of battle, and in peace, Soldier, go home •, with thee the fight is won. In Time of War. 19 Go to the grave ; for there thy Saviour lay In death's embrace, ere he arose on high ; And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, Pass to eternal life beyond the fky. Go to the grave; — no; take thy seat above; Be thv pure spirit present with the Lord, Where thou for faith and hope haft perfe6l love, And open vifion for the written word. J. Alontgomery . 1 8 O 3 - 1 8 5 3 . OHOLY Father, juft and true Are all thy works and words and ways. And unto thee alone are due Thanksgiving and eternal praise ! As children of thy gracious care. We veil the eye, we bend the knee, With broken words of praise and prayer. Father and God, we come to thee. For thou haft heard, O God of right, The fighing of the hapless flave ; And ftretched for him the arm of might. Not fhortened that it could not save. 20 In Time of War. The laborer fits beneath his vine, The fhackled soul and hand are free ; — Thanksgiving! — for the work is thine! ■ Praise ! — for the blelling is of thee. Speed on thy work, Lord God of hofts ! And when the bondsman's chain is riven, And swells from all our country's coafts The anthem of the free to heaven, O, not to those whom thou haft led. As with thy cloud and fire before, But unto thee, in fear and dread, Be praise and glory evermore. J. G. IVhittier. PREPARE YE THE WAY OF THE LORD. A VOICE from the desert comes awful and fhrill ; The Lord is advancing ; prepare ye the way ! The word of his promise he comes to fulfil, And o'er the dark world pour the splendor of day. Bring down the proud mountain, though towering to heaven, And be the low valley exalted on high ; The rough path and crooked be made smooth and even, He Cometh ! our King, our Redeemer is nigh. In Time of IVar. 21 The beams of salvation his progress illume, The lone, dreary wilderness fings of her God ; The rose and the myrtle there suddenly bloom. And the oli\e of peace spreads its branches abroad. Drumniond. 1 5 8 5 - 1649. OPPRESSION fhall not always reign; There comes a brighter day, When freedom, burft from every chain, Shall have triumphant way. Then right fhall over might prevail. And truth, like hero armed in mail. The hofis of tyrant wrong aflail. And hold eternal sway. What voice fhall bid the progress ftay Of truth's victorious car ? What arm arreft the growing day. Or quench the solar ftar ? What reckless soul, though ftout and ftrons. Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong, Oppreffion's guilty night prolong. And freedom's morning bar ? The hour of triumph comes apace. The fated, promised hour. 22 hi Time of Jlar. When earth upon a ransomed race Her bounteous gifts fhall fhower. Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell ! Bid high thy sacred banner swell ! Let trump on trump the triumph tell OF Heaven's redeeming power. Rev. H. Ware, Jr. OUT of the dark the circling sphere Is rounding onward to the light ; We see not yet the full day here, But we do see the paling night ; And Hope, that lights her fadeless fires. And Faith, that fhines, a heavenly will. And Love, that courage reinspires, — These ftars have been above us ftill. O sentinels ! whose tread we heard. Through long hours when we could not see. Pause now ; exchange with cheer the word, The unchanging watchword, — Liberty! Look backward, how much has been won ! Look round, how much is yet to win ! The watches of the night are done ; The watches of the day begin. /// Time of JVar. 23 O Thou , whose mighty patience holds The dav and night alike in view, Thv wil our deareft hopes enfolds, O keep us ileadfail, patient, true ! Rev. S. Longfellow. CLEAR THE WAY. "1\ /T EN of thought ! be up and ftirrino; IVl Night and day ! Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain. Clear the way ! Men of a£tion, aid and cheer them As ye may ! There 's a fount about to ftream ; There 's a light about to beam ; There 's a warmth about to glow ; There 's a flower about to blow ; There 's a midnight blackness changing Into gray. Men of thought and men of a6lion, Clear the way ! Once th e welcome light has broken, Who (hall say What th e unimagined glories Of the day ? 24 In Time of IVar. What the evil that {hall perifh In its ray ? Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ; Aid it, hopes of honeft men ; Aid it, paper ; aid it, type ; Aid it, for the hour is ripe ; And our earneft muft not flacken Into play. Men of thought and men of a(5lion. Clear the way ! Lo ! a cloud 's about to vanifli From the day ; Lo ! the right 's about to conquer, — Clear the way ! And a brazen wrong to crumble Into clav. With that right (hall many more Enter smiling at the door ; With the giant wrong (hall fall Many others, great and small. That for ages long have held us For their prey. Men of thought and men of a6lion. Clear the way ! Charles Mack ay. In Time of War. 25 O ISRAEL, to thy tents repair: Why thus secure on hoftile ground ? Thy King commands thee to beware. For many foes thy camp surround. The trumpet gives a martial ftrain : O Israel, gird thee for the fight ! Arise, the combat to maintain. And put thine enemies to flight I Thou fhouldft not fleep as others do ; Awake ; be vigilant ; be brave ! The coward and the fluggard too Must wear the fetters of the flave. A nobler lot is caft for thee ; A kingdom waits thee in the fkies : With such a hope, fhall Israel flee. Or yield, through weariness, the prize ? No ! let a careless world repose And flumber on through life's {hort day. While Israel to the confli£t goes, And bears the glorious prize away ! Thomas Kelly. 1 806. 26 In Time of IV ar. BE STRONG, FEAR NOT. PRISONERS of hope ! be ftrong, be bold Caft off your doubts, disdain to fear ! The day which prophets have foretold, And saints have longed for, draweth near : Our God fhall in his kingdom come ; Prepare your hearts to make him room ! O ye of fearful hearts.^ be ftrong ! Your downcaft eyes and hands lift up, Doubt not, nor cry, " O God, how long ? " Hope to the end, in patience hope ! O, never from your faith remove ; Ye cannot fail, for God is love ! Lord, we have faith ; we wait the hour Which to the earth thy kingdom brings ; When thou, in love and joy and power, Shalt come and make us priefts and kings ; When man {hall be indeed thy son. And thy pure will on earth be done. In Time of IVar. 27 A SOLDIER'S course, from battles won To new-commencing ftrife ; A pilgrim's, reftless as the sun ; Behold the Chriftian's life ! Prepared the trumpet's call to greet. Soldier ot Jesus, ftand ! Pilgrim of Chrift, with ready feet Await thy Lord's command. The hofts of Satan pant for spoil ; How can thy warfare close ? Lonely, thou treadll: a foreign soil ; How canil thou hope repose ? Seek, soldier! pilgrim! seek thine home, Reyealed in sacred lore ; The land whence pilgrims neyer roam. Where soldiers war no more ; — Where grief fhall neyer wound, nor death Difturb the Sayiour's reign ; Nor fin, with peftilential breath, His holy realm profane ; — 28 In Time of J Far. Where founts of life their treasures yield In ftreams that never cease ; Where everlafting mountains fhield Vales of eternal peace : Where they who meet fhall never part ; Where grace achieves its plan ; And God, uniting every heart, Dwells face to face with man. Thoinas Gljhorne. 1803. LUTHER'S PRAYER. OUR God, our Father, with us ftav, And make us keep thv narrow way ; Free us from fin and all its power ; Give us a joyful dying hour ; Deliver us from Satan's arts. And let us build our hopes on thee, Down in our very heart of hearts 1 O God, may we true servants be. And serve thee ever perfectly. Help us, with all thy children here, To fight and flee with holy fear ; In Time of IVar. Flee from temptation, and to fight With thine own weapons for the right ; Amen ! Amen ! so let it be ! So ihall we ever ling to Thee, Hallelujah ! 1483- 1501. 29 CHRISTMAS. IT came upon the midnight clear, That glorious song of old. From angels bending near the earth To touch their harps of gold, — " Peace to the earth, good-will to men. From Heaven's all-gracious King": The world in solemn ftillness lay. To hear the angels fing. Still through the cloven fkies they come. With peaceful wings unfurled ; And ftill their heavenly mufic floats O'er all the weary world : Above its sad and lowly plains They bend on heavenly wing. And ever o'er its Babel sounds The blefl'ed angels fing. 30 In Time of War. Yet with the woes of fin and ftrife The world has suffered long ; Beneath the angel-ftrain have rolled Two thousand years of wrong \ And men, at war with men, hear not The love-song which they bring : O, hu{h the noise, ye men of ftrife. And hear the angels fing ! And ye, beneath life's crufhing load, Whose forms are bending low. Who toil along the climbing way With painful fteps and flow ; Look now ! for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing: O, reft befide the weary road. And hear the angels fing ! For lo ! the days are haftening on, By prophet bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold ; When Peace fliall over all the earth Its ancient splendors fling, And the whole world send back the song Which now the angels fing. Rev. E. H. Sears. In Time of JVar 31 THE WORD. IN the beginning was the Word : Athwart the chaos-night It gleamed with quick creative power, And there was life and light. Thv Word, O God ! is living yet. Amid earth's reftless ftrife, New harmony creating ftill, And ever higher life. And as that Word moves surely on, The light, ray after ray, Streams farther out athwart the dark. And night grows into day. O Word that broke the ftillness firft, Sound on ! and never cease, Till all Earth's darkness be made light, And all her discord peace ! Till — wail of woe and clank of chain And bruit of battle ftilled — The world with thy great mufic's pulse, O Word of Love ! be thrilled ; — 32 In Time of War. Till selfifti paflion, ftrife, and wrong Thy summons fhall have heard, And thy creation be complete, O Thou Eternal Word ! Rev. S. Longfellow. PEACE ON EARTH. OFOR the coming of the end, The laft long Sabbath day of time, When peace from heaven fhall descend. Like light on every clime. For men in fhips far off at sea Shall hear the happy nations raise The song of peace and liberty. And overflowing praise. Mankind fhall be one brotherhood ; One human soul fhall fill the earth, And God fhall say, " The world is good As when I gave it birth." In Time of IV ar. 33 CHRIST THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. OTHOU great Friend to all the sons of men, Who once appeared in humbleft guise below, Sin to rebuke, to break the captive's chain, And call thy brethren forth from want and woe, — We look to thee ! thy truth is ftill the Light Which guides the nations, groping on their way. Stumbling and falling in disaftrous night, Yet hoping ever for the perfecSl day. Yes ; thou art ftill the Life, thou art the Way The holieft know ; Light, Life, the Way of heaven ! And they who deareft hope and deepeft pray Toil by the Light, Life, Way, which thou haft given. Rev. Theodore Parker. THE POWER OF JESUS. STRONG-SOULED Reformer, whose far-seeing faith Of lifted cry and tumult had no need, — 3 34 Ifi Thne of JVar. Who ftayedft the lightnings of thy holy wrath With pitying love, to spare the bruised reed, — Thy will to save, thy ilrength to conquer, flowed From seas of tenderness and might in God. Thy living word sprang from the heart of man Eternal word of love and liberty : Fearless thou gav'ft it to the winds again ; 'T was Manhood's native tongue, and could not die. To thy dear brotherhood life's pulses leap ; And wakening ages answer, deep to deep. Rev. S. 'Johmon. AFFLICTION BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. FROM lips divine, like healing balm To hearts opprefTed and torn, The heavenly consolation fell, " Blefled are they that mourn." Unto the hopes by sorrow crufhed A noble faith succeeds ; And life, by trials furrowed, bears The fruit of loving deeds. How rich, how sweet, how full of ftrength. Our human spirits are. Baptized into the sanctities Of suffering and of prayer ! Yes, heavenly wisdom, love divine. Breathed through the lips which said, " O bleffed are the hearts that mourn ; They fhall be comforted." 36 Afflia'ion. THE GUIDING HAND. " Caft thy burden upon the Lord." — Psalm Iv. 22. IS this the way, my Father ? 'T is, my child. Thou muft pass through this tangled, dreary wild. If thou wouldft reach the city, undefiled. Thy peaceful home above. But enemies are round ! Yes, child, I know That where thou leaft expe6teft thou 'It find a foe ; But vi6lor thou fhalt prove o'er all below. Only seek ftrength above. My Father, it is dark ! Child, take my hand, Cling close to me ; I '11 lead thee through the land ; Truft my all-seeing care ; so flialt thou ftand 'Midft glory bright above. My footfteps seem to Aide ! Child, only raise Thine eye to me, then in these flippery ways I will hold up thy goings ; thou fhalt praise Me for each ftep above. O Father, I am weary ! Child, lean thy head Upon my breaft. It was my love that spread Thy rugged path ; hope on, till I have said, " Reft, reft for aye, above." Affilalon. 37 A FIRST SORROW. ARISE! this day fhall fhine, f orevermore, To thee a ftar divine, On Time's dark fhore. Till now thy soul has been All glad and gay : Bid it awake, and look At grief to-day ! No fhade has come between Thee and the sun ; Like some long childifti dream Thy life has run : But now the ftream has reached A dark, deep sea. And Sorrow, dim and crowned, Is waiting thee. Each of God's soldiers bears A sword divine : Stretch out thy trembling hands To-day for thine ! 38 Jffli£iion. To each anointed Prieft God's summons came : O soul, He speaks to-day, And calls thy name. Then, with flow, reverent ftep. And beating heart. From out thy joyous days Thou muft depart. And, leaving all behind, Come forth alone. To join the chosen band Around the throne. Raise up thine eyes, — be ftrong. Nor caft away ' The crown that God has given Thy soul to-day ! Miss A. A. Prober. •'ONLY A YEAR." ONE year ago, — a ringing voice, A clear blue eye. And cluftering curls of sunny hair, Too fair to die. Afflia'ion. Only a year, — no voice, no sniilc, No glance of eye, No cluftering curls of golden hair. Fair but to die ! One year ago, — what loves, what schemes Far into life ! What joyous hopes, what high resolves. What generous ftrife ! The filent pi6lure on the wall. The burial ftone. Of all that beauty, life, and joy. Remain alone ! 39 One year, — one year, — one little year, — And so much gone ! And yet the even flow of life Moves calmly on. The grave grows green, the flowers bloom fair, Above that head ; No sorrowing tint of leaf or spray Says he is dead. No pause or hufli of merry birds That fing above Tells us how coldly fleeps below The form we love. 40 Affli£lion. Where haft thou been this year, beloved ? What haft thou seen ? What vifions fair, what glorious life, Where thou haft been ? The veil ! the veil ! so thin, so ftrong ! 'Twixt us and thee ; The myftic veil ! when fhall it fall, That we may see ? Not dead, not fleeping, not even gone ; But present ftill. And waiting for the coming hour Of God's sweet will. Lord of the living and the dead. Our Saviour dear ! We lay in filence at thy feet This sad, sad year ! Mrs. H, B. Stowe. DISCIPLINE. GOD moves in a myfterious way His wonders to perform ; He plants his footfteps in the sea, And rides upon the ftorm. Affliaion. Deep in unfathomable mines Of never-failing Ikill He treasures up his bright defigns, And works his sovereign will. Ye fearful saints, frefh courage take ; The clouds ve so much dread Are big with mercy, and fliall break In bleilings on your head. Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But truft him for his grace \ Behind a frownino- Providence He hides a smiling face. His purposes will ripen faft. Unfolding every hour ; The bud may have a bitter tafte, But sweet will be the flower. 41 Blind unbelief is sure to err. And scan his work in vain ; God is his own interpreter. And he will make it plain. William Cowper. 1779. 42 Affi'itlion. BE STILL! PEACE! Be ftill! In this night of sorrow bow, O my heart, contend not thou ! What befalls thee is God's will, — Peace! Be ftill! Peace! Be ftill! All thy murmuring words are vain, — God will make the riddle plain : Wait his word, and bear his will, — Peace! Be ftill! Hold thee ftill ! Though the Father scourge thee sore. Cling thou to him all the more. Let him mercy's work fulfil ! Hold thee ftill ! Hold thee ftill! Though the good Phyfician's knife Seem to touch thy very life. Death alone he means to kill, Hold thee ftill ! Affl'ia'ion. Lord, my God ! Give me grace, that I may be Thy true child, and filently Own thy sceptre and thy rod, Lord, my God ! Shepherd mine ! From thy fulness give me ftill Faith to do and bear Thy will. Till the morning light fhall {bine, — Shepherd mine ! Frojn the German. 43 HOLY TEARS. YES, thou mayft weep, for Jesus {bed Such tears as those thou {heddeft now, When for the living or the dead Sorrow lay heavy on his brow. He sees thee weep, yet doth not blame The weakness of thy flefh and heart ; Thy human nature is the same As that in which he took a part. He knows its weakness, for he felt The crufhing power of pain and woe. 44 Affilalon. How body, soul, and spirit melt, And faint beneath the (tunning blow. What if poor finners count thy grief The fign of an unchaltened will ? He who can give thy soul relief Knows that thou art submiflive ftill. Turn thee to Him, to Him alone ; For all that our poor lips can say To soothe thee, broken-hearted one. Would fail to comfort thee to-day. We will not speak to thee, but fit In prayerful filence by thy fide : Grief has its ebbs and flows ; 't is fit Our love fhould wait the ebbing tide. Jesus himself will comfort thee. In his own time, in his own way ; And haply more than " two or three " Unite in prayer for thee to-day. Affliaion. 45 ALL, ALL IS KNOWN TO THEE. "When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou kneweft my path." — Psalm cxlii. 3. MY God, whose gracious pity I may claim, Calling thee P ather, sweet, endearing name ! The sufferings of this weak and weary frame, All, all are known to Thee. From human eye 't is better to conceal Much that I suffer, much I hourly feel ; But oh ! the thought does tranquillize and heal. All, all is known to Thee. Each secret confli61: with indwelling sin. Each fickening fear I ne'er the prize fhall win. Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din, — All, all are known to Thee. Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned, — Each drop that fills my daily cup ; thy hand Prescribes tor ills none else can underffand. All, all is known to Thee. 46 Afflidion. Nor will the bitter draught diftafteful prove, When I recall the Son of thy dear love ; The cup thou wouldft not for our sakes remove, That cup he drank for me. And welcome, precious can his Spirit make My little drop of suffering for his sake. Father, the cup I drink, the path I take, — All, all is known to Thee. Adelaide L. Newton. THE ETERNAL YEARS. " While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal ; but the things which are not seen are eternal." — 2 Cor. iv. 18 HOW flialt thou bear the cross that now So dread a weight appears ? Keep quietly to God, and think Upon the Eternal Years. Aufterity is little help. Although it somewhat cheers ; Thine oil of gladness is the thought Of the Eternal Years. ♦ Affliaion. Set hours and written rule are good, Long prayer can lay our fears ; But it is better calm for thee To count the Eternal Years. Oh ! many things are good for souls, In proper times and spheres ; Thy present good is in the thought Of the Eternal Years. Thy self-upbraiding is a snare. Though meekness it appears j More humbling is it far for thee To face the Eternal Years. Brave quiet is the thing for thee, Chiding thy scrupulous fears ; Learn to be real from the thought Of the Eternal Years. Bear gently, suffer like a child. Nor be afhamed of tears ; Kiss the sweet Cross, and in thy heart Sing of the Eternal Years. 47 Thy Cross is quite enough for thee. Though little it appears \ For there is hid in it the weight Of the Eternal Years. 4-8 Afflialon. And knovvft thou not how bitterness An ailing spirit cheers ? Thy medicine is the ftrengthening thought Of the Eternal Years. One Cross can sanctify a soul ; Late saints and ancient seers Were what they were because they mused Upon the Eternal Years. Death will have rainbows round it seen Through calm contrition's tears, If tranquil Hope but trims her lamp At the Eternal Years. Frederick Faber. "WHAT ARE THESE IN BRIGHT ARRAY? WHAT are these in bright array ? This innumerable throng, Round the altar, night and day. Hymning one triumphant song : *' Worthy is the Lamb once flain, Blefling, honor, glory, power, Wisdom, riches, to obtain. New dominion every hour." Affliaion. 49 These through fiery trials trod ; These from great affliftion came ; Now before the throne of God, Sealed with his almighty name, Clad in raiment pure and white, Victor-palms in every hand. Through their dear Redeemer's might. More than conquerors they ftand. Hunger, thirft, disease unknown, On immortal fruits they feed ; Them the Lamb, amidft the throne. Shall to living fountains lead : Joy and gladness banifti fighs. Perfect love dispels all fear, And forever from their eyes God (hall wipe away the tear. 'James Montgomery. 1803— 1853. " Take away the dross from the filver, and there fliall come forth a veffel for the finer." — Prov. xxv. 4. SICKNESS is a school severe. Where the soul, (in childhood here,] Wayward, 'neath a milder sway. Learns to think, and learns to pray. 4 50 Affl'iSiion. Bleft and wise its discipline, There the teacher is divine. Wert thou thoughtless, led away By each folly of the day ? Cleaving to the things of earth, Mindless of thy heavenly birth ? Bless the hours which broke their spell. Made thee fick to make thee well. Wert thou selfifh, thinking not On the ftarving sufferer's lot ? Fed with dainties, gayly dreffed, Wert thou by the poor unbleffed ? Now for sufferers thou wilt feel, God has wounded but to heal. Wert thou fretful, harfh, unkind. Finding nothing to thy mind? Though with countless mercies bleft. Never thankful, ne'er at reft ? Sickness comes to purge thy dross. Prove thy gain, and not thy loss. Wert thou proud, exalted high By affluence, ftation, anceftry ? Oft with supercilious ken Glancing at thy fellow-men ? God now ftrips thee, lays thee low. All thy nothingness to iliow. Affiiaion. Dwelt thy soul at ease, allured All was well, and heaven secured ? Didft thou need no better dress Than thy fancied righteousness ? Sickness comes to probe thy heart, Comes to {how thee what thou art. Is tlhe one thing needed moft That which scarce thy mind has crofled ? Hall thou earthly science prized, But the themes of heaven despised ? God now warns thee, thus he saith : " Soul, awake, thy fleep is death ! " Charlotte Elliott. 51 BEREAVEMENT. FLOW on, thou Fountain of my joy, Through all the wilderness ! Thou seeft what will work for good, Thou knowefl: how to bless. Get thyself glory, O my God, Be praised in my diftress ! O, let Thy true, refining love Its utmoft pleasure see ; 52 jiffllaion. And lift not up Thy faithful hand Whate'er my cry may be, Till I am ftrong for Thy renown, And pure for use to Thee. I know Thine eye has weighed the path To Thy loft creature's bliss. No comfort could supply the need Of grief so sore as this ; No joy could wake my heart so well To Thy full preciousness. Thou waft the Source of all that love Which makes me glad no more, — And Thou haft taken to Thyself What was Thine own before. Thine, and mine too, O Good to give, O Faithful to reftore. That loving spirit is withdrawn From every fhade of fin ; And I in sympathy with her A holier life begin. Yes ! to her new delight in Thee, I, Lord, can enter in. She with Thee, wheresoe'er Thou art, In fellowfhip untold ! She in Thee, living by my Bread, My Hope, my heart's ftronghold ! Affllaion. Oh ! 't is a song for days of grief, Whate'er their depths unfold. As one whose mother comforts him, I will lift up my head. No wound of Thine (hall take the life From words which Thou hall said. And in the fulness of Thy truth I fliall be comforted. Miss A. L. JVaring. 53 "GOD DOTH NOT LEAVE HIS OWN." GOD doth not leave his own ! The night of weeping for a time may laft -, Then, tears all paft, His going forth {hall as the morning fliine ; The sunrise of his favor {hall be thine, — God doth not leave his own. God doth not leave his own ! Though " few and evil " all their days appear. Though grief and fear Come in the train of earth and hell's dark crowd, The tru{ting heart says, even in the cloud, God doth not leave his own. 54 JffliSiion. God doth not leave his own ! This sorrow in their life he doth permit, Yea, useth it To speed his children on their heavenward way, — He guides the winds. — Faith, Hope and Love all say God doth not leave his own. FAITH. WE will not weep ; for God is (landing by us. And tears will blind us to the blefled fight ; We will not doubt, if darkness ftill doth try us. Our souls have promise of sereneft light. We will not faint, — if heavy burdens bind us. They press no harder than our souls can bear, The thornieft way is lying ftill behind us, We ftiall be braver for the paft despair. O, not in doubt fhall be our journey's ending ; Sin with its fears fliall leave us at the laft, — All its beft hopes in glad fulfilment blending. Life (hall be with us when the Death is paft. Help us, O Father ! when the world is prefling On our frail hearts, that faint without their friend, Affli£iion. 55 Help us, O Father ! let thy conllant blelling Strengthen our weakness — till the joyful end. IV. H. Hurlburt. WHY SEEK YE THE LIVING AMONG THE DEAD? AH ! why fhould bitter tears be fhed In sorrow o'er the mounded sod, When verily there are no dead Of all the children of our God ? They who are loft to outward sense Have but flung ofF their robes of clay. And, clothed in heavenly radiance. Attend us on our lowly way. And oft their spirits breathe in ours The hope and ftrength and love of theirs. Which bloom as bloom the early flowers In breath of summer's viewless airs. And filent aspirations ftart. In promptings of their purer thought. Which gently lead the troubled heart To jovs not even Hope had wrought. 56 AffllSlion, While sorrow's tears our eyes have wet, Shed o'er the consecrated duft. Too much our darkened souls forget The leflbns of enduring Trufh Let living Faith serenely pour Her sunlight on our pathway dim, And Death can have no terrors more ; But holy Joy (hall walk with him. G. S. Bur/eigh. THERE is a land where beauty cannot fade. Nor sorrow^ dim the eye ; Where true love {hall not droop nor be dismayed, And none {hall ever die ! Where is that land, O where ? For I would ha{len there ! Tell me, I fain would go. For I am wearied with a heavy woe ! The beautiful have left me all alone : The true, the tender, from my path are gone ! O, guide me with thv hand. If thou do{t know the land, For I am burthened with opprefUve care, And I am weak and fearful with despair ! Affliaion. 57 Where is it ? tell me where ? Thou that art kind and gentle, tell me where ? Friend, thou mull: trull in him who trod before The desolate paths of life ; Mufl: bear in meekness, as he meekly bore. Sorrow, and pain, and ftrife ! Think how the Son of God These thorny paths hath trod ; Think how he longed to go, Yet tarried out for thee the appointed woe : Think of his weariness in places dim. When no man comforted nor cared for him ! Think of the blood-like sweat With which his brow was wet, Yet how he prayed, unaided and alone, In that great agony, " Thy will be done ! " Friend, do not thou despair, Chrift from his heaven of heavens will hear thy prayer ! From the German of Uhland. 1 804. THE INVITATIONS OF THE GOSPEL. COME ! said Jesus' sacred voice. Come, and make my paths your choice, I will guide you to your home -, Weary pilgrim, hither come ! 58 Affliaion. Thou, who, houseless, sole, forlorn, Long haft borne the proud world's scorn, Long haft roamed the barren wafte, Weary pilgrim, hither hafte ! Ye, who, toffed on beds of pain, Seek for ease, but seek in vain ; Ye, whose swollen and fleepless eyes Watch to see the morning rise ; Ye, by fiercer anguifh torn. In remorse for guilt who mourn ; Here repose your heavy care ! Conscience wounded who can bear ? Sinner, come ! for here is found Balm that flows for every wound ; Peace that ever fhall endure ; Reft eternal, sacred, sure. Mrs. Barbauld. 1825. "THAT YE THROUGH HIS POVERTY MIGHT BE RICH. O'ER the dark wave of Galilee The gloom of twilight gathers faft. And on the waters drearily Descends the fitful evening blaft. Affliflion. 59 The weary bird hath left the air, And sunk into his fheltered neft ; The wandering beaft has sought his lair, And laid him down to welcome rell. Still near the lake, with weary tread. Lingers a form of human kind ; And on his lone, unfheltered head Flows the chill night-damp of the wind. Why seeks He not a home of reft ? Why seeks He not a pillowed bed ? Beafts have their dens, the bird its neft ; He hath not where to lay his head. Such was the lot He freely chose, To bless, to save, the human race ; And through His poverty there flows A rich, full ftream of heavenly grace. Rujfell CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE IN SUFFERING. C"^ O to dark Gethsemane, y Ye that feel temptation's power ; Your Redeemer's confli6l see ; Watch with him one bitter hour: 6o Afflidion. Turn not from his griefs away ; Learn of Jesus Chrift to pray. Follow to the judgment-hall ; View the Lord of life arraigned : O the wormwood and the gall ! O the pangs his soul suftained ! Shun not suffering, fhame, or loss ; Learn of him to bear the cross. Calvary's mournful mountain climb ; There, admiring at his feet, Mark that miracle of time, God's own sacrifice complete : " It is finifhed," hear him cry ; Learn of Jesus Chrift to die. Early haften to the tomb Where they laid his breathless clay ; All is solitude and gloom : Who has taken him away ? Chrifl: is risen ; he meets our eyes : Saviour, teach us so to rise ! J. Montgomery. 1803-1853. I /Ijfiiition. 6 1 FELLOWSHIP IN SUFFERING. " That I may know Him, and tne power of His resurrection, and the fellow- (hip of" His sufferings." — Fhilippians iii. lo. HUMBLY while my soul doth prove Sweeteft joys of pardoning lo\'e, Still, my Sayiour, doth it yearn Loye's deep myftery to learn, In the fliadow of Thy cross Counting earthly gain but loss, Breathing ftill its fervent plea For a closer life with Thee, By that high and holy thing, Fellowfhip in suffering. O my Lord, the Crucified ! Who for love of me haft died. Mould me by Thy living breath To the likeness of Thy death ; While the thorns Thy brows entwine, Let no flower-wreath reft on mine. In Thy hands the cruel nail, Blood-sweat on Thy forehead pale ; Clasp me to Thy wounded side, O my Lord the Crucified ! 62 Afflia'ion. . Hands, love-clasped through charmed hours. Feet that press the bruised flowers. Is there aught for you to dare That ye may His fignet bear ? In this easy, painless life, Free from ftruggle, care, and ftrife. Ever on my doubting breaft Lies the fhadow of unreft ; This no path that Jesus trod ; Can the smooth way lead to God ? But when chaftening ftripes descend, Welcoming as friend doth friend, Thy dear tokens, Lord, I know, And to Thee unerring go ; Blefled tears flow warm and free, Thou doft love me, — even me. Pomp and ease, and praise of men. All are loathed and scorned then. Since my Lord, my Love, hath died, Mocked and scourged and crucified. By the agony and pain Of the torture-ftricken brain. By the riches of Thy love. Let not suffering barren prove ; Pledge and emblem 't would remain Of the dark and sullen pain, Affllaion. 63 Where nor love nor good doth live, And the blefled word " forgive " Comes not with its subtle art, Softening, healing, any heart. In the little islet Time Of Eternity sublime. Standing on the Hoping brink. Let me of Thy chalice drink. Be baptized with Thy baptism, And be crowned with Thy love-chrism; Slain with Thee in darkeft hour, Feel Thy resurre61:ion power. Till where Thou art I may be, Perfe6led, dear Lord, with Thee ! • Chrijiian Mirror. DEEM not that they are bleft alone Whose days a peaceful tenor keep ; The God who loves our race has fhown A bleffing for the eyes that weep. The light of smiles (hall fill again The lids that overflow with tears. And weary hours of woe and pain Are earnefts of serener years. 64 Affliaion. O, there are days of hope and reft For every dark and troubled night ! And grief may bide, an evening gueft, But joy {hall come with early light. And thou who o'er thy friend's low bier Doft filed the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again. Nor let the good man's truft depart, Though life its common gifts deny ; Though with a pierced and broken heart. And spurned of men, he goes to die. For God hath marked each anguifhed day, And numbered every secret tear ; And heaven's long age of bliss (hall pay For all His children suffer here. IVm. C. Bryant. FATHER, when o'er our trembling hearts Doubt's fhadows gathering brood, When faith in Thee almoft departs. And gloomieft fears intrude. Affliaion. 65 Forsake us not, O God of grace, But send those fears relief; Grant us again to see Thy face ; Lord, help our unbelief. When sorrow comes, and joys are flown. And fondell: hopes lie dead. And bleflings, long efteemed our own. Are now forever fled, — When the bright promise of our spring Is but a withered leaf, — Lord, to thv truths ftill let us cling ; Help Thou our unbelief. And when the powers of nature fail Upon the couch of pain. Nor love nor friendfhip can avail The spirit to detain. Then, Father, be our clofing eyes ■ Undimmed by tears of grief; And if a trembling doubt arise. Help Thou our unbelief. Rev. S. G. Biilfinch. 66 Affiiaion. THE REQUEST. OTHOU who didft deny to me This world's adored felicity, And every big, imperious luft. Which fools admire in finful duft With those fine subtle twifts that tie Their bundles of foul gallantry, — Keep ftill my weak eyes from the (bine Of those gay things which are not Thine ! And fhut my ears againft the noise Of wicked, though applauded, joys ! For Thou in any land haft ftore Of fhades and coverts for Thy poor ; Where from the busy duft and heat. As well as ftorms, they may retreat. A rock or bufh are downy beds. When Thou art there, crowning their heads With secret bleflings, or a tire Made of the Comforter's live fire. And when Thy goodness, in the dress Of anger, will not seem to bless. Yet doft Thou give them that rich rain. Which, as it drops, clears all again. O what kind vifits daily pass 'Twixt Thy great self and such poor grass ! Affliaion. 67 With what sweet looks doth Thy love (hine On those low violets of Thine, While the tall tulip is accuril:, And crown-imperials die with thirit ! O give me Itill those secret meals, Those rare repafts which Thy love deals ! Give me that joy which none can grieve, And which in all griefs doth relieve. This is the portion Thy child begs ; Not that of ruft, and rags, and dregs. Henry Vaughan . 1622— 1695. AFFLICTION. "For whom the Lord loveth he chafteneth." — Hebrews xxii. 6. WHO, that a watcher doth remain Befide a couch of mortal pain. Deems he can ever smile again ? Or who that weeps befide a bier Counts he has any more to fear From the world's flatteries false, and leer ? And yet anon and he doth ftart At the light toys in which his heart Can now already claim its part. 68 Affliaion. O heart of ours ! so weak and poor, That nothing there can long endure ; And so their hurts find fhimeful cure, — While every sadder, wiser thought, Each holier aim which sorrow brought. Fades quite away, and Comes to naught. O Thou who doft our weakness know. Watch for us, that the ftrong hours so Not wean us from our wholesome woe. Grant Thou that we may long retain The wholesome memories of pain, Nor wifh to lose them soon again. Richard Chenevix Trench. PATIENCE. LIFE SPRINGING FROM DEATH. THE seed muft die before the corn appears Out of the ground, in blade and fruitful ears. Low have these ears before the fickle lain, Ere thou canll treasure up the golden grain. The grain is crufhed before the bread is made, And the bread broke ere life to man conveyed. O be content to die, to be laid low, And to be cruflied, and to be broken so. If thou upon God's table mavft be bread, Life-giving food for souls an hungered. R. C. Trench. 70 Patience. A CITY THAT HATH FOUNDATIONS. THEREFORE, O friend! I would not, if I might, Rebuild my house of lies wherein I joyed One time to dwell ; my soul fhall walk in white, Caft down, but not defl:royed. Therefore in patience I pofTess my soul ; Yea, therefore as a flint I set my face. To pluck down, to build up again the whole, — But in a diftant place. The thorns are fharp, yet I can tread on them ; The cup is bitter, yet He makes it sweet ; My face is fteadfaft toward Jerusalem, My heart remembers it. I lift the hanging hands, the feeble knees, — I, precious more than seven times molten gold, Until the day when from his ftorehouses God fhall bring new and old. Beauty for afties, oil of joy for grief. Garment of praise for spirit of heaviness ; Although to-day I fade as doth a leaf, I languifli and grow less. Patience. 7 1 Although to-day He prunes my twigs with pain, Yet doth His blood nourifh and warm my root ; To-morrow I ihall put forth buds again, And clothe myself with fruit. Although to-day I walk in tedious wavs, — To-day His llaff is turned into a rod, — Yet will I wait for Him the appointed days, And Hay upon my God. Chr'tjiina Roffetti. VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS. THROUGH night to light! — And though to mortal eyes Creation's face a pall of horror wear, Good cheer ! good cheer ! The gloom of midnight flies ; Then (hall a sunrise follow, mild and fair. Through ftorm to calm ! — And though His thunder-car The rumbling tempeft drive through earth and Iky, Good cheer ! good cheer ! The elemental war Tells that a blefled healing hour is nigh. Through froft to spring ! — And though the biting blaft Of Eurus ftiffen Nature's juicy veins. Good cheer ! good cheer ! When winter's wrath is paft, Soft, murmuring spring breathes sweetly o'er the plains. 72 Patie Through ftrife to peace! — And though, with briftling front, A thousand frightful deaths encompass thee. Good cheer ! good cheer ! Brave thou the battle's brunt, For the peace-march and song of vi6torv. Through sweat to fleep ! — And though the sultry noon With heavy, drooping wing oppress thee now. Good cheer ! good cheer ! The cool of evening soon Shall lull to sweet repose thy weary brow. Through cross to crown ! — And though thv spirit's life Trials untold aflail with giant ftrength. Good cheer ! good cheer ! Soon ends the bitter ftrife. And thou fhalt reign in peace with Chrift at length. Through woe to joy' — And though at morn thou weep, And though the midnight finds thee weeping ftill, Good cheer ! good cheer ! The Shepherd loves his (beep : Refign thee to the watchful Father's will. Through death to life ! — And through this vale of tears, And through this thift:le-field of life, ascend To the great supper in that world whose years Of bliss unfading, cloudless, know no end. Kosegarten. Patience. 73 WHEN darkness long has veiled my mind, And smiling day once more appears, Then, mv Creator ! then I find The tolly of my doubts and fears. Straight I upbraid mv wandering heart, And blufli that I fhould ever be Thus prone to act so base a part, Or harbor one hard thought of Thee. O, let me then at length be taught What I am ftill so flow to learn, — That God is love, and changes not. Nor knows the (hadow of a turn. Sweet truth, and easy to repeat ! But when my faith is (harply tried, I find mvself a learner yet, Unfkilful, weak, and apt to Hide. But, O my God ! one look from Thee Subdues the disobedient will. Drives doubt and discontent away. And thy rebellious child is ftill. IVilliam Cowper. 17790 74 Patience. "THY WILL BE DONE." MY God, my Father ! while I ftray, Far from my home, on life's rough way, teach me from my heart to say, "Thy will be done!" Though dark my path, and sad my lot, Let me "be ftill," and murmur not. Or breathe the prayer, divinely taught, "Thy will be done!" What though in lonely grief I sigh For friends beloved, no longer nigh ; Submiflive ftill would I reply, " Thy will be done ! " If thou ftiouldft call me to refign What moft I prize, it ne'er was mine ; 1 only yield thee what was thine : ''Thy will be done!" Should pining fickness wafte away My life in premature decay. My Father ! ftill I ftrive to say, "Thy will be done!" Patience. 75 If but my fainting heart be bleft With thv sweet spirit for its gueft, My God ! to thee I leave the reft, — ^'Thy will be done!" Renew my will from day to day, Blend it with thine, and take away All now that makes it hard to say, "Thy will be done!" Then, when on earth I breathe no more The prayer, oft mixed with tears before, I '11 fing upon a happier (hore, "Thy will be done!" Charlotte Elliott. JUDGE NOT. fUDGE not ; the workings of his brain And of his heart thou canft not see ; What looks to thy dim eyes a ftain In God's pure light may only be A scar, brought from some well-won field, Where thou wouldft only faint and yield. The look, the air, that frets thy fight May be a token that below 76 Patience. The soul has closed in deadly fight With some infernal fiery foe, Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, And call thee fhuddering on thy face ! The fall thou dareft to despise, — May be the angel's flackened hand Has suffered it, that he may rise And take a firmer, surer fl:and ; Or, trufting less to earthly things. May henceforth learn to use his wings. And judge none loft ; but wait and see, With hopeful pity, not disdain ; The depth of the abyss may be The measure of the height of pain And love and glory that may raise This soul to God in after days ! Miss A. A. Prober. HASTE NOT! REST NOT! WITHOUT hafte! without reft! Bind the motto to thy breaft \ Bear it with thee as a spell ; Storm or sunftiine, guard it well ! Patience. 77 Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, Bear it onward to the tomb ! Hafte not ! let no thoughtless deed Mar for aye the spirit's speed ! Ponder well and know the right, Onward then with all thy might ! Halte not ! years can ne'er atone For one reckless a6lion done. Reft not ! life is sweeping by, Go and dare before vou die : Something mio-htv and sublime Leave behind to conquer time ! Glorious 't is to live for aye. When these forms have passed away. Hafte not ! reft not ! calmly wait ; Meekly bear the ftorms of fate ! Duty be thy polar guide, — Do the right, whate'er betide ! Hafte not ! reft not ! conflicSls paft, God fhall crown thy work at laft. Fro?n the German of Goethe. 1768. PRAYER. N EXHORTATION TO PRAYER. OT on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed Compose thy weary limbs to reft ; For they alone are bleft With balmy fleep Whom angels keep ; Nor, though by care opprefled. Or anxious sorrow, Or thought in many a coil perplexed For coming morrow, Lay not thy head On prayerless bed. For who can tell, when fleep thine eye fhall close, That earthly cares and woes To thee may e'er return .'' Arouse, my soul ! Slumber control. And let thy lamp burn brightlv ; So ftiall thine eyes discern Prayer. 79 Things pure and Tightly ; Taught bv the spirit ; learn Never on prayerless bed To lay thine unbleft head. Haft thou no pining want, or wifh, or care, That calls for holy prayer ? Has thy day been so bright That in its flight There is no trace of sorrow ? And art thou sure to-morrow Will be like this, and more Abundant? Doft thou yet lay up thy ftore, And ftill make plans for more ? Thou fool ! this very night Thy soul may wing its flight. Haft thou no being than thyself more dear, That ploughs the ocean deep. And when ftorms sweep The wintry, lowering fky, For whom thou wak'ft and weepeft ? O when thy pangs are deepeft, Seek then the covenant ark of prayer ! For He that flumbereth not is there : His ear is open to thy cry. O, then, on prayerless bed Lay not thy thoughtless head ! 8o Prayer. Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to flumber ! Till in communion bleft With the elecS: ye reft, Those souls of countless number ; And with them raise The note of praise, Reaching from earth to Heaven : Chosen, redeemed, forgiven ! So lay thv happy head. Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed. Margaret Mercer. PRAYER. " I will, therefore, that men pray everywhere, lifting up holy hands, with- out wrath and doubting." — I Tim. ii. 8. BE not afraid to prav, — to pray is right. Pray, if thou canft, with hope ; but e\ cr pray. Though hope be weak, or sick with long delay ; Pray in the darkness, if there be no light. Far is the time, remote from human fight, When war and discord on the earth (liall cease ; Yet every prayer for universal peace Avails the blefled time to expedite. Whate'er is good to wifli, afk that of Heaven, Though it be what thou canft not hope to see ; Prayer. 8 1 Pray to be perfedl, though material leaven Forbid the spirit so on earth to be ; But if for any wifh thou darefl not pray, Then prav to God to caft that willi away. Hai'tley Coleridge. 1840. THE PRAYERS I MAKE. THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed, If Thou the spirit give by which I prav ; My unailifted heart is barren clay, That of its native self can nothing feed ; Of good and pious works Thou art the seed That quickens only where Thou sayft it may. Unless Thou fhow to us Thy own true way, No man can find it : Father ! Thou muft lead ; Do Thou then breathe those thoughts into my mind By which such virtue may in me be bred That in Thy holy footfteps I may tread ; The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind. That I may have the power to fing to Thee, And sound Thy praises everlaftingly ! Michel Angela. TranJJ. by Wordsworth. 1474- 1564. 82 Prayer. PRAYER. LORD, teach us how to pray aright, With reverence and with fear : Though duft and allies in Thy Tight, We may, we muft, draw near. Burdened with guilt, convinced of fin, In weakness, want, and woe, Fightings without, and fears within. Lord, whither fliall we go ? God of all grace, we come to Thee With broken, contrite hearts ; Give what Thine eye delights to see, — Truth in the inward parts. Give deep humility ; the sense Of godly sorrow give ; A ftrong, defiring confidence. To hear Thy voice and live ; Patience, to watch, and wait, and weep. Though mercy long delay ; Courage our fainting souls to keep. And truft Thee, though Thou flay. Prayer. 83 Give these, and then Thy will be done ; Thus, ftrengthened with all might, We, by Thy Spirit and Thy Son, Shall pray, and pray aright. "James Montgomery. 1 80 3— 1853. THE LORD'S PRAYER. IF any be diftrefled, and fain would gather Some comfort, let him hafte unto Our Father. For we of hope and help are quite bereaven Except Thou succor us Who art in Heaven. Thou fhoweft mercy, therefore for the same We praise Thee, finging, Hallowed be Thy name. Of all our miseries caft up the sum ; Show us Thy joys, and let Thy kingdom come. We mortal are, and alter from our birth ; Thou conftant art, Thy will be done on earth. Thou madeft the earth as well as planets seven. Thy name be bleffed here As 't is in Heaven. 84 Prayer. Nothing we have to use or debts to pay, Except Thou give it us. Give us this day Wherewith to clothe us, wherewith to be fed, For without Thee we want Our daily bread. We want, but we want no faults, for no day pafles But we do fin, — Forgive us our trespaffes. No man from finning ever free did live ; Forgive us. Lord, our fins. As we forgive. If we repent our faults. Thou ne'er disdained us ; We pardon them That trespass againft us ; Forgive us that is paft, a new path tread us ; Direft us always in Thy faith. And lead us — We, Thine own people and Thy chosen nation — Into all truth, but Not into temptation. Thou that of all good graces art the giver. Suffer us not to wander. But deliver Us from the fierce aflaults of world and devil And flefti, so fhalt Thou free us From all evil. To these petitions let both church and laymen. With one consent of heart and voice, say Amen. Prayer. 85 COME, let us pray : 't is sweet to feel That God himself is near ; That, while we at his footitool kneel, His mercy deigns to hear : Though sorrows cloud life's dreary way, This 'is our solace, — let us pray. Come, let us pray : the burning brow. The heart opprelTed with care. And all the woes that throng us now. Will be relieved by prayer : Our God will chase our griefs away ; O glorious thought! — come, let us pray. Come, let us pray : the mercy-seat Invites the fervent prayer ; Our Heavenly p'ather waits to greet The contrite spirit there : O loiter not, nor longer ftay From Him who loves us; — let us pray. 86 Praye THE HOUR OF PRAYER. MY God ! is any hour so sweet. From blufh of morn to evening ftar, As that which calls me to Thy feet, The hour of prayer ? Bleft is the tranquil hour of morn, And bleft that hour of solemn eve. When, on the wings of prayer upborne, The world I leave. Then is my ftrength by Thee renewed ; Then are my fins by Thee forgiven •, Then doft Thou cheer my solitude With hopes of heaven. No words can tell what sweet relief There for my every want I find ; What ftrength for warfare, balm for grief, What peace of mind. Huftied is each doubt, gone every fear ; My spirit seems in heaven to ftay ; And e'en the penitential tear Is wiped away. Charlotte Elliott. Prayer. 87 OLORD, turn not Thy face away From them that lowly lie, Lamenting sore their finful life With tears and bitter cry ; Thy mercy-gates are open wide To them that mourn their fin ; O fhut them not againft us, Lord, But let us enter in. We need not to confess our fault. For surely Thou canft tell What we have done, and what we are Thou knoweft very well : Wherefore, to beg and to entreat. With tears we come to Thee, As children that have done amiss Fall at their father's knee. And need we then, O Lord, repeat The blefling which we crave. When Thou doft know, before we speak, The thmg that we would have ? Mercy, O Lord, mercy we afk. This is the total sum ; For mercy. Lord, is all our prayer ; O let Thy mercy come ! Variation by Bifiop Heber. 1827. From "John Mardly. 1562. 88 Prayer. OHELP us, Lord ! each hour of need, Thy heavenly succor give ; Help us in thought and word and deed, Each hour on earth we live ! O help us when our spirits bleed With contrite anguifh sore ; And when our hearts are cold and dead, O help us. Lord, the more! O help us, through the prayer of faith, More firmly to believe ; For ft:ill the more the servant hath. The more fliall he receive. If ftrangers to Thy fold we call. Imploring at Thy feet The crumbs that from Thy table fall, 'T is all we dare entreat. But be it. Lord of mercy, all, So Thou wilt grant but this : The crumbs that from Thy table fall Are lisht and life and bliss. Prayer. 89 O help us, Jesus, from on high ! We know no help but Thee : O help us so to live and die As Thine in heaven to be ! H. H. Mllman. 1827. THE POWER OF TRUST. MY God ! in life's moft doubtful hour, In (harpeft pains of death, Who waits on Thee hath peace and power, Thou present help of faith ! Thy crown of joy upon his head. Thy light upon his face. Through florms and ftrife thy Chrift could tread On to the happy place. And though the cross were (harp and high, The lifted Lord could see The souls he loved drawn nearer by His love's laft energy. Help me, O God ! to seek, to win. Through ftruggles and through prayer. The faith which frees my soul from fin. And brings Thy bleffing there. 9© Prayer. So fhall my cross of conquered ftiame My fainting brothers raise ; So Thy triumphant mercy flame Around my path of praise. And earth, with all its pain and toil, By love's pure presence bleft, Shall wear the calm, celeftial smile Of heaven's eternal reft. IV. H. Hurlburt. HABITUAL DEVOTION. WHILE Thee I seek, proteiting Power, Be my vain wifties ftilled j And may this consecrated hour With better hopes be filled. Thy love the power, of thought beftowed ; To Thee my thoughts would soar ; Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed ; That mercy I adore. In each event of life, how clear Thy ruling hand I see ! Each blelling to my soul more dear. Because conferred by Thee. % Prayer. 9 1 In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart (hall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer. When gladness wings my favored hour, Thv love my thoughts fhall fill ; Refigned, when ftorms of sorrow lower, My soul fhall meet Thy will. My lifted eye, without a tear. The gathering ftorm fliall see ; My fteadfaft heart fhall know no fear ; That heart fhall reft on Thee. Miss H. M. Williams. 1762- 1 827. ON LEAVING HOME FOR A MILDER CLIMATE. "My presence fhall go with thee, and I will give thee reft." — Exodus xxxiii. 14. THIS gracious promise, Lord, fulfil, Now that I leave a home so dear ; My soul's sweet home is present ftill, If Thou art near. Beneath thy wings if I remain. My home! my hiding-place! mv reft! 92 Prayer. Sheltered, and safe, and free from pain. My soul is bleft. Thy presence fills my mind with peace, Brightens the thoughts so dark erewhile, Bids cares and sad forebodings cease, Makes all things smile. This ftriking of my pilgrim tent No longer mournful will appear. If Thy reviving presence lent The traveller cheer. The spacious earth is all thine own ; What land soe'er my fteps invite. That land thine eye will reft upon, By day, by night. Whether again my home I see. Or yield on foreign fliores my breath, Take not thy presence, Lord, from me. In life or death ! In thee, my hiding-place divine. Be reft throughout life's journeyings given: Then sweeter, holier reft be mine. With Thee in heaven ! Charlotte Elliott. Prayer. 93 PRAYER IN DESPONDENCY. BOWED 'neath the load of human ill, Our spirits droop and are dismayed ; O Thou that saidell, "Peace, be ftili," To the wild sea, and waft obeyed, Speak comfortable words of peace And bid the spirit's tumult cease ! We afk not length of days, nor ease, Nor gold ; but for Thy mercy's sake, Give us Thy joy, surpafling these, Which the world gives not, nor can take: And count it not for sin that we At times despond, or turn from Thee. Frojn Mary H.owitt' s ^^ Seven Temptations." ABIDE IN ME, AND I IN YOU. THAT mvftic word of Thine, O sovereign Lord, Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me ! Weary with ftriving and with longing faint, I breathe it back again in prayer to Thee. I 94 Prayer. Abide in me, I pray, and I in Thee ! From this good hour, O leave me never more ! Then fhall the discord cease, the wound be healed. The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er. Abide in me, — o'erfhadou^ by Thy love Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin ; Quench, ere it rise, each selfifti, low defire. And keep my soul as Thine, calm and divine : As some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades it with a fragrance not its own. So, when Thou dwelleft in a mortal soul, All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown. The soul alone, like a negle6led harp. Grows out of tune, and needs that Hand divine. Dwell Thou within it, tune and touch the chords, Till every note and ftring fhall answer Thine. Abide in me : there have been moments pure. When I have seen Thy face and felt Thy power ; Then evil loft its grasp, and paflion, hufhed. Owned the divine enchantment of the hour. These were but seasons beautiful and rare ; Abide in me, and they (hall ever be : I pray Thee now fulfil my earneft prayer. Come and abide in me, and I in Thee. Mrs. H. B. Stowe. Prayer. 95 LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. IN the hour of my diftress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my fins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When I He within my bed, Sick at heart and ficlc at head. And with doubts disquieted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the house doth figh and weep. And the world is drowned in fleep. Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the pafling-bell doth toll. And the furies in a fh oal Come to fright a parting soul, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When, God knows, I 'm tofled about, Eith er with despair or doubt. > Yet before the glass b e out. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 96 Prayer. When the tapers now burn blue, And the comforters are few, And that number more than true. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the prieft his laft hath prayed. And I nod to what is said, 'Cause my speech is now decayed. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the tempter me pursu'th With the fins of all my youth. And half damns me with untruth, Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the flames and hellifh cries Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes. And all terrors me surprise. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. When the judgment is revealed, And that opened which was sealed. When to Thee I have appealed. Sweet Spirit, comfort me. Robert Herrick. 1648. Prayer. 97 CONSECRATION. FROM my lips in their defilement, P'rom my heart in its beguilement, From my tongue, which speaks not fair, From my soul, ftained everywhere, — O my Jesus, take my prayer ! Spurn me not, for all it says, — Not for words and not for ways, Not for fhameleffhess endued ! Make me brave to speak my mood, my Jesus, as I would, Or teach me (which I rather seek) What to do and what to speak. 1 ha\'e finned more than fhe Who, learning where to meet with Thee, And bringing myrrh, the higheft priced. Anointed bravely, from her knee Thy blefTed feet accordingly. My God, mv Lord, my Chrift, As thou saideft not, " Depart," To that suppliant from her heart, Scorn me not, O Word, that art The gentleft one of all words said ! But give thv feet to me inftead, 7 98 Prayer. That tenderly I may them kiss, And clasp them close, and never miss, With over-dropping tears, as free And precious as that myrrh could be, T' anoint them bravely from my knee ! Wafh me with thy tears ! draw nigh me. That their salt may purify me ! Thou remit my fins, who knoweft All the finning, to the loweft, — Knoweft all my wounds, and seeft All the ftripes thyself decreeft ; Yea, but knoweft all my faith, — Seeft all my force to death, — Heareft all my wailings low That mine evil fliould be so. Nothing hidden but appears In thy knowledge, O Divine, O Creator, Saviour mine ! Not a drop of falling tears. Not a breath of inward moan. Not a heart-beat which is gone. Frofn the Greek of St. 'Joannes Damascemis., tranjlated by E. B. Broiuning. Prayer. g() JESUS, caft a look on me ; Give me sweet fimplicity, Make me poor and keep me low, Seeking only Thee to know. Weaned from my lordly self. Weaned from the miser's pelf, Weaned from the scorner's ways, Weaned from the luft of praise : All that feeds my busy pride, Caft it evermore afide ; Bid my will to Thine submit ; Lav me humbly at Thy feet. Make me like a little child. Of my ftrength and wisdom spoiled, Seeing only in Thy light. Walking only in Thy might. Leaning on Thy loving breaft. Where a weary soul may reft ; Feeling well the peace of God Flowing from Thy gracious Blood ! 1 00 Prayer. In this pofture let me live, And hosannas daily give ; In this temper let me die, And hosannas ever cry ! John Ber ridge. 1 785, C^ RACIOUS Spirit, dwell with me ; ^ I myself would gracious be, And with words that help and heal Would Thy life in mine reveal. And with a61:ions bold and meek Would for Chrift my Saviour speak. Truthful Spirit, dwell with me ; I myself would truthful be. And with wisdom kind and clear Let Thy life in mine appear, .^ And with ailions brotherly Speak my Lord's fincerity. Tender Spirit, dwell with me ; I myself would tender be. Shut my heart up like a flower » At temptation's darksome hour. Open it when fhines the sun. And His love by fragrance own. Prayer. lOi Silent Spirit, dwell with me -, I myself would quiet be, — Quiet as the growing blade Which through earth its way has made, Silently, like morning light, Putting mills and chills to flight. Mighty Spirit, dwell with me*-, I mvself would mighty be, — Mighty so as to prevail Where unaided man muft fail. Ever by a mighty hope PrelTing on and bearing up. Holy Spirit, dwell with me ; I myself would holy be ; Separate from fin, I would Choose and cherilh ail things good. And whatever I can be Give to Him who gave me Thee ! r. T. Lynch. 1855. PRAY FOR ME! I BEG of you, I beg of you, my brothers. For my need is very sore. Not for gold and not for filver do I afk you. But for something even more : I02 Prayer, From the depths of your hearts pity let it be, — Pray for me ! I beg of you whose robes of radiant whiteness Have been kept without a ftain ; Of you who, ftung to death by serpent pleasure. Found the healing angel pain : Whether holy or forgiven you may be, — Pray for me ! I beg of you calm souls whose wondering pity Looks at paths you never trod : I beg of you who suffer, — for all sorrow Muft be very near to God, — And the need is even greater than you see, — Pray for me ! I beg of you, O children, for He loves you. And He loves your prayers the beft : Fold your little hands together, and afk Jesus That the weary may have reft. That a bird caught in a net may be set free, — Pray for me ! I beg of you who ftand before the altar. Whose anointed hands upraise All the fin. and all the sorrow of the ages, All the love and all the praise. And the glory which was always and (hall be, — Pray for me ! Prayer. 1 03 I beg of you, — of you who through life's battle Our dear Lord has set apart, That, while we who love the peril are made captives. Still the Church may have its heart Which is fettered that our souls may be set free, — Pray for me ! I beg of you, I beg of you, my brothers, For an alms this very day, I am {landing on your doorftep as a beggar Who will not be turned away. And the charity you give my soul (hall be, — Pray for me ! Mhs A. A. Proaer. ONE prayer I have, — all prayers in one, When I am wholly thine ; Thy will, my God, thy will be done. And let that will be mine. All-wise, almighty, and all-good. In Thee I firmly trufl: ; Thy ways, unknown or underftood. Are merciful and juft. May I remember that to Thee Whate'er I have I owe ; 1 04 Prayer. And back, in gratitude, from me May all thy bounties flow. Thy gifts are only then enjoyed. When used as talents lent ; Those talents only well employed, When in thy service spent. And though thy wisdom takes away. Shall I arraign thy will ? No ; let me bless thy name, and say, " The Lord is gracious ftill." A pilgrim through the earth I roam, Of nothing long poflefled. And all muft fail when I go home. For this is not my reft. y. Montgomery . 1803-1853, THY WILL BE DONE. THY will be done ! I will not fear The fate provided by thy love ; Though clouds and darkness fliroud me here, I know that all is bright above. Prayer. 1 05 The ftars of heaven are fliining on, Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears ; The hopes of earth indeed are gone, But are not ours th' immortal years ? Father ! forgive the heart that clings Thus trembling to the things of time ; And hid my soul, on angel wings. Ascend into a purer clime. There Ihall no doubts difturb its truft, No sorrows dim celeftial love ; Dut these affliftions of the duft. Like fhadows of the night, remove. E'en now, above, there 's radiant day. While clouds and darkness brood below ; Then, Father, joyful on my way To drink the bitter cup I go. "Jane Roscoe. 1800. BEGIN WITH GOD. BEGIN the day with God! He is thy sun and day ; His is the radiance of thy dawn. To Him address thy lay. io6 Prayer. Sing a new song at morn ' Join the glad woods and hills ; Join the frefli winds and seas and plains, Join the bright flowers and rills. Sing thy firft song to God ! Not to thy fellow-man ; Not to the creatures of his hand, But to the Glorious One. Awake, cold lips, and fing ! Arise, dull knees, and pray ; Lift up, O man, thy heart and eyes ; Brulh flothfulness away. Look up, beyond these clouds ! Thither thy pathway lies ; Mount up, away, and linger not, Thy goal is yonder fkies. Caft every weight afide ! Do battle with each fin ; Fight with the faithless world without. The faithless heart within. Take thy firft meal with God ! He is thy heavenly food ; Feed with and on Him ; he with thee Will feaft in brotherhood. Prayer. 107 Take tin' firlt walk with God ! Let him go forth with thee ; By ftream or sea or mountain-path, Seek Itill his company. Thy firft transaction be With God himself above ; So (hall thy bufiness prosper well, And all the day be love. H, Bonar. 1856. I AND MY HOUSE WILL SERVE THE LORD. I AND my house are ready, Lord, With hearts that beat in sweet accord, To serve Thee and obey Thee ; Be in the midft of us, we pray. To guide and bless us, that we may A willing service pay Thee : Of us all. Great and small. Make a pious congregation. Pure in life and conversation. Let thy good Spirit by the word Work mightily in us, O Lord, Our souls and bodies filling ! lo8 Prayer. O let the sun of grace fhine bright, That there may be abundant light In us and in our dwelling: On our way, Night and day, With the heavenly manna feed us, To the heavenly Canaan lead us. Send peace and blefling from above. Unite us all in faith and love Who in this house are living; Let charity our hearts prepare To suffer long and all things bear. Meek, gentle, and forgiving : Nor in aught Chrift hath taught Let us fail to one another. But each love and help his brother. Lord, let our house be built upon Thy faithfulness and grace alone ; And when the day is clofing. And night her gloomy fhadow flings. Let us lie down beneath Thy wings. With childlike trult repofing ; E'en with smart In the heart, Cheerful, happy, and confiding. Patiently in Thee abiding. Prayer. 109 If Thou lliouldlt bless our home with wealth, Let not the world creep in by Health, And take away the blelling ; For if our hearts (hould empty be Of meekness and humility, Although all else poflcfTing, We fhould miss That true bliss, Which not all the world's vaft treasure Can supply in smalleft measure. C. J. P. Spitta. Tranjlated by R. Majie. 1854. MORNING. CHRIST, whose glory fills the fkies, Chrift, the true, the only Light, Sun of Righteousness, arise. Triumph o'er the fhades of night ! Day-spring from on high, be near ! Day-ftar, in my heart appear ! Dark and cheerless is the morn Unaccompanied by Thee ; Joyless is the day's return, Till thy mercy's beams I see ; no Prayer. Till they inward light impart, Glad my eyes, and warm my heart. Vifit then this soul of mine. Pierce the gloom of fin and grief; Fill me. Radiancy Divine, Scatter all my unbelief! More and more Thyself display. Shining to the perfe6l day ! Charles IVeJley. 1 740. MORNING. O TIMELY happy, timely wise, Hearts that with rifing morn arise ! Eyes that the beam celeftial view, Which evermore makes all things new ! New every morning is the love Our wakening and uprifing prove. Through fleep and darkness safely brought, Reftored to life, and power, and thought. New mercies, each returning day, Hover around us while we pray ; New perils paft, new fins forgiven. New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven. Prayer. If, on our daily course, our mind Be set to hallow all we find, New treasures Hill, of countless price, God will provide for sacrifice. Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, As more of Heaven in each we see ; Some softening gleam of love and prayer Shall dawn on every cross and care. As for some dear familiar strain Untired we afk, and afk again, Ever, in its melodious fi:ore. Finding a spell unheard before, — Such is the bliss of souls serene, When they have sworn, and fleadfaft mean, Counting the coft, in all t' espy Their God, in all themselves deny. O could we learn that sacrifice. What lights would all around us rise ! How would our hearts with wisdom talk Along life's dulleft, drearieft walk! Ill We need not bid, for cloiftered cell, Our neighbor and our work farewell. Nor ftrive to wind ourselves too high For finful man beneath the fkv. 112 Prayer. The trivial round, the common tafk, Will furnifli all we ought to afk ; Room to deny ourselves ; a road To bring us, daily, nearer God. Seek we no more : content with these. Let present rapture, comfort, ease. As Heaven shall bid them, come and go ; The secret this of reft below. Only, O Lord, in Thy dear love Fit us for perfe6t reft above ; And help us, this and every day, To live more nearly as we pray ! 'John Keble. 1827. WHEN WE FIRST AWAKE. DEAR God, that watch doth keep Round all that honor Thee, Vouchsafing Thy beloved fleep When reft fhall needful be. My soul returns Thee praise. That thus refrefhed I am. And that my tongue a voice can raise. To praise Thee for the same. Prayer. 1 1 3 As now my soul doth (hake Dull Heep out of her eyes, So let Thv Spirit me awake, That I from fm may rise. The night is pall away. Which filled us full of fears j And we enjoy the glorious day. Wherein Thy grace appears. O, let me, therefore, fliun All errors of the night ; Thy righteousness let me put on. And walk as in the light : And guard me from his power, Since I on Thee rely, Who walks in darkness to devour When our long fleep draws nigh. George Wither. 1 64 1. MORNING. THE purple morning gilds the eaftern fkies. And what the night had hidden from our eyes Now stands revealed to our admiring gaze ; Mountain and valley, wood and fruitful plain, Which in their mifty bed aflecp had lain. Shine forth and glitter in the sun's bright rays. 114 Prayer. Shine in my soul, and light and joy impart, blefled Jesus, Sun of my dark heart. O cause therein the light of truth to fhine ; Show me each crooked winding of my heart, Change and renew it so in every part. That my whole nature be transformed to Thine. Lord, in Thy light O let me walk this day, By Thy love prompted, a£t, and speak, and pray. As a new creature it becomes to do. Whose aim it is, in all his words and ways. To set forth duly his Creator's praise. And new in heart, in life be also new. 1 pray not, " Take my troubles all away " ; It is for love to bear them that I pray, And firm belief that all is for my good ; That every trouble muft be kindly meant, Since from the hands of Him it has been sent Who is my loving Father and my God. I pray not that my days may smoothly run ; Ah no ! I pray. Thy will alone be done ! Yet give a childlike trufting heart to me ; Should the earth seek to draw my spirit down, let my heart continue ftill Thine own. And draw me upward from the earth to Thee. 1 pray not. Lord, that Thou wilt quickly end The griefs and troubles Thou art pleased to send ; Prayer. 1 1 5 Be Thou my peace in ev^ery trying hour. I afk not Heaven at once to enter in, But ere I die, that I may die to fin : Be Thou its death ; deftroy its guilt and power. Thou Sun, bv whom my new life firft was lighted, O let me not again become benighted. But be my light when fhades around me spread ; With the bright splendor of Thy heavenly rays Illuminate the evening of my days, And (hed a halo round my dying head. a J. P. Spitta. TranJJated by R. Majfie. 1854. VESPERS. THE weary day at length is paft, Pale fhadows beckon it to reft ; The (lanting sunbeams fading caft Their dim reflection through the weft. The song of birds, the hum of bees. The droning inse6l's ftiining wing. Are filent all, the evening breeze Its plaintive monody doth fing. 1 1 6 Prayer. Now, holy bells, your chime begin PVom towers that bathe in sunset air ! Lift these poor spirits from the fin That chains with fetters gross or fair. Speak of the coming fhadowed night. That preludes day no more to cease ; Speak of the Love that gloom to light, And guide us to the perfed: Peace ! a M. VESPERS. O SHADOW in a sultry land ! We gather to thy breaft. Whose love, unfolding like the night. Brings quietude and reft. Glimpse of the fairer life to be. In foretafte here poflefTed ! From aimless wanderings we come, From drifting to and fro ; The wave of being mingles deep. Amid its ebb and flow, The grander sweep of tides serene Our spirits yearn to know ! Prayer. 117 That which the garifli day had loft The twihght \igil brings, While softlicr the vesper bell Its silver cadence rings, — The sense of an immortal truft, The brufli of angel wings ! Drop down behind the solemn hills, O Day, with golden fkies ! Serene above its fading glow, Night, ftarry-crowned arise ! So beautiful may Heaven be. When Life's laft sunbeam dies ! C. M. P. I LOVE to fteal awhile away From every cumbering care, And spend the hours of setting day In humble, grateful prayer. I love in solitude to fhed The penitential tear. And all his promises to plead Where none but God can hear. I love to think on mercies paft. And future good implore. 1 1 8 Prayer. And all my cares and sorrows caft On Him whom I adore. I love by faith to take a view Of brighter scenes in heaven ; The prospe6l doth my ftrength renew, While here by tempefts driven. Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er, May its departing ray Be calm as this impreflive hour. And lead to endless day. Mrs. Broiun. EVENING HYMN. THE fhadows of the evening hours Fall from the darkening fky ; Upon the fragrance of the flowers The dews of evening lie : Before thy throne, O Lord of Heaven, We kneel at close of day ; Look on thy children from on high, And hear us while we pray. The sorrows of thy servants. Lord, O do not thou despise ; Prayer. 119 But let the incense of our prayers Before thy mercy rise ; The brightness of the coming night Upon the darkness rolls : With hopes of future glory chase The Ihadows on our souls. Slo\vl\- the rays of daylight fade ; So fade within our heart The hopes in earthly love and joy, That one by one depart : Slowly the bright ftars, one by one, Within the heavens fliine ; — Give us, O Lord, frefli hopes in Heaven, And truft in things divine. Let peace, O Lord, thy peace, O God, Upon our souls descend : From midnight fears and perils. Thou Our trembling hearts defend ; Give us a respite from our toil, Calm and subdue our woes ; Through the long day we suffer. Lord, O give us now repose ! M'm A. A. Proaer. 120 Prayer. EVENING HYMN. " Let my prayer be set before thee as incense ; and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice." — Psalm cxli. 2. SWEET Saviour ! bless us ere we go ; Thy word into our minds inftil, And make our lukewarm hearts to glow With lowly love and fervent will ; Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. The day is done, its hours are run. And Thou haft taken count of all, — The scanty triumphs grace hath won, The broken vow, the frequent fall ; Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. Grant us, dear Lord, from evil ways True absolution and release. And bless us more than in paft days, With purity and inward peace ; Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. I 1 Prayer. 1 2 1 Do more than pardon, — gi\e us joy, Sweet fear, and sober liberty, And simple hearts without alloy, That only long to be like Thee ; Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. Labor is sweet, for Thou haft toiled. And care is light, for Thou haft cared : Ah ! never let our work be soiled With ftrife, or by deceit ensnared ; Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. For those we love, — the poor, the sad. The finful, — unto Thee we call ; Oh ! let thy mercy make us glad ! Thou art our Jesus and our all ; Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. Sweet Saviour ! bless us ; night is come ; Through all its watches near us be ; Good angels watch about our home. And we are one day nearer Thee. Through life's long day and death's dark night, O gentle Jesus, be our light. Frederick Faher. 122 Prayer. ALL'S WELL. THE day is ended. Ere I fink to fleep, My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine ; Father ! forgive my trespafles, and keep This little life of mine. With loving kindness curtain Thou my bed, And cool in reft my burning pilgrim feet ; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head, — So fliall my fleep be sweet. At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and Thee, No fears my soul's unwavering faith can fliake ; All 's well, whichever fide the grave for me The morning light may break ! H. McEiuen Kimball. NIGHT. HEAR my prayer, O Heavenly Father, Ere I lay me down to fleep : Bid Thy angels pure and holy Round my bed their vigil keep. Prayer. 1 23 Great mv fins are, but Thy mercy Far outweighs them every one ; Down before Thy cross I cait them, Trufting in Thv help alone. Keep me through this night of peril. Underneath its boundless (hade ; Take me to Thy reft, I pray Thee, When my pilgrimage is made ! None fhall measure out Thy patience By the span of human thought ; None fhall bound the tender mercies Which Thy holy Son hath wrought. Pardon all my paft transgreffions ; Give me ftrength for days to come ; Guide and guard me with Thy blefling Till Thine angels bid me home ! Thomas Park. 1797. AN EVENING SONG. LORD, a happy child of Thine, Patient in the love of Thee, In the light, the life divine. Lives and walks at liberty. 1 24 Prayer. Leaning on Thy tender care Thou haft led my soul aright ; Fervent was my morning-prayer, Joyful is my song to-night. O my Saviour, Guardian true, All my life is Thine to keep ; At Thy feet my work I do. In Thy arms I fall afleep, A. L. IVari. ng. WHEN WE CANNOT SLEEP. WHAT ails my heart, that in my breaft It thus unquiet lies ; And that it now of needful reft Deprives my tired eyes ? Let not vain hopes, griefs, doubts or fears, Diftemper so my mind ; But caft on God thy thoughtful cares. And comfort thou fhalt find. In vain that soul attempteth aught. And spends her thoughts in vain. Who by or in herself hath sought Defired peace to gain. Prayer. 1 25 In vain as rifing in the morn Before the day appear ; In \ain to bed we late return, And he unquiet there. For when of reft our fin deprives, When cares do waking iceep ; 'T is God, and He alone, that gives To His beloved fleep. On Thee, O Lord ! on Thee therefore, AIv mufings now I place : Thy free remiflion I implore. And Thv refrelhing grace. Forgive Thou me, that when my mind Oppressed begun to be, I sought elsewhere my peace to find, Before I came to Thee, And, gracious God ! vouchsafe to grant. Unworthy though I am. The needful reft which now I want, That I may praise Thy name. George Wither. 1 64 1 . 1 26 Prayer. MIDNIGHT. AWAKE, my soul, awake to prayer; Thy vigil of the night prepare : Now all around is dark and ftill. Angels defending us from ill. The time to sacred thought is dear, When Thou alone, good Lord, art near ; Huflied is the world's external din. That we may hear Thy voice within. It seems to plead with gentle breath ; Sad child of frailty, heir of death, Its reft thy wearied body knows ; O, let thy soul on me repose ! I came to suffer in thy ftead ; I had not where to lay my head : Think on the love that could provide Bleflings for man, to me denied ! Thus filent hours of darkness prove Remembrancers of Jesus' love ; While conftancy in prayer we learn From each succeeding night's return. Prayer. 1 27 Dav without night the angels fing, Nor rell upon the drooping wing ; Teaching our souls betimes to ascend, Where hallelujahs never end. David awaked his harp and voice, And all within him, to rejoice, God's love to praise at morning light. And tell of all His truth at night. Jacob in prayer no£lurnal ftrove ; No ftern repulse his prayer could move ; In vain the angel-man did say, " Dismiss me, for 't is break of day ! " See how, in galling fetters laid, At midnight Paul and Silas prayed ; Their gory wounds ftill smarting sore, And cold the prison's rugged floor. They sang the praises of the Lord ; So loud they sang, the prisoners heard : And yet they thought that death was nigh ; And clouds obscured their morning fky. How fhall I then Thy praise decline, When health and friends and home are mine ? My dawn of day is clear and calm ; No "^foes oppress, no fears alarm. 128 Prayer. Are these Thy mercies, Lord, to me? O, let me then Thy servant be ! Submitting to Thy juft control, And loving Thee with all my soul. So fliall I find Thee ftrong to save. When my laft bed ihall be the grave ; The grave ihall own my Saviour's might, And darkness vanifh at Thy fight ! Only my soul muft now awake From fleep of fin for Thy dear sake ! And then my body fiiall arise From fleep of death to yonder fkies. 'T is there I hope Thy face to see, The crown of all felicity ; 'T is there I hope that reft to gain. Which here I seek, but seek in vain. As endless ages roll along. Endless fhall be my grateful song ; And heaven itself fhall pass away, Before I cease my vows to pay. Glory to God, who Israel keeps. Who never flumbers, never fleeps I Almighty Power no weakness knows ; Unwearied Love asks no repose. Prayer. SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 129 And now, my midnight mufings o'er, Thy wonted mercies. Lord, rertore : Let fleep again my eyelids fill. And angels guard my soul from ill. "James Ford. 1856. TWA I tl WAS in the watches of the night thought upon Thy power ; I kept Thy lovely face in fight, Amid the darkeft hour. While I lav refting on my bed. My soul arose on high ; My God, my life, my hope, I said, Bring thy salvation nigh. I ftrive to mount thy holy hill ; I walk the heavenly road ; Thy glories all my spirit fill. While I commune with God. Thy mercy ftretches o'er my head The {hadow of thy wing ; My heart rejoices in thine aid. And I thy praises fing. haac IFatts. 1674- 1748. 9 130 Prayer. NIGHT MUSINGS. IN the Hill filence of the voiceless night, When, chased by airy dreams, the flumbers flee, Whom in the darkness doth my spirit seek, O God, but Thee? And if there be a weight upon my breast. Some vague impreflion of the day foregone, Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee, And lay it down. Or if it be the heaviness that comes In token of anticipated ill. My bosom takes no heed of what it is, Since 't is Thy will. For, oh ! in spite of paft and present care. Or anything befide, how joyfully Passes that almoft solitary hour, My God, with Thee! More tranquil than the ftillness of the night. More peaceful than the filence of that hour, More bleft than anything, my spirit lies Beneath Thv power. _. Prayer. 131 For what is there on earth that I defire, Of all that it can give or take from me, Or whom in heaven doth mv spirit seek, O God, but Thee ? STAR of morn and even, Sun of Heaven's heaven, Saviour high and dear, Toward us turn thine ear ; Through whate'er may come. Thou canlt lead us home. Though the gloom be grievous, Those we leant on leave us, Though the coward heart Quit its proper part. Though the Tempter come. Thou wilt lead us home. Saviour pure and holy. Lover of the lowly. Sign us with thy fign. Take our hands in thine. Take our hands and come. Lead thy children home ! 132 Prayer. Star of morn and even, Shine on us from Heaven, From thy glory-throne Hear thy very own ! Lord and Saviour, come. Lead us to our home ! F. T. Palgrave. 1862. AUTHOR of good, to thee we turn Thine ever wakeful eye Alone can all our wants discern, Thy hand alone supply. O, let thy love within us dwell, Thy fear our footfteps guide ; That love fhall vainer loves expel, That fear all fears befide. And, O, by error's force subdued. Since oft, with ftubborn will. We blindly ftiun the latent good. And grasp the specious ill, — Not what we wifti, but what we want, Let mercy ftill supply : The good we afk not. Father, grant ; The ill we afk, deny. Merrick. PRAISE " All things are yours, .... things present." — i Cor. iii. 21, 22. WHILE toil and warfare urge us on our way, And heart is answering heart in fighs of pain, Have we no words of ftrengthening joy to say, — No songs for those who suffer but to reign f O for the faithful mind, the fteadfaft eye. To keep our Leader's glory full in fight, And make our converse, even while we die. An interchange of triumph and delight ! Behold, the paths of life are ours, — we see Our bleft inheritance where'er we tread ; Sorrow and danger our security. And disappointment lifting up our head. Kings unto God, we may not doubt our power. We may not languifh when He says, "Be ftrong ! " We muft move on through every adverse hour. And take pofleffion as we pass along. 134 Praise. Yes, all is for us ; nothing fhall withftand Our faithful, valiant, persevering claim ; — The rod of God's Anointed in our hand, And our afl'urance His unchano-ino; name. We need no hafte where He has said, " Be ftill," ■ No peace where He has charged us to contend ; Only the fearless love to do His will. And to fhow forth His honor to the end. O ye that faint and die, arise and live ! Sing, ye that all things have a charge to bless ! If He is faithful who hath sworn to give. Then be ye also faithful, and pofless. Take thy whole portion with thy Mafter's mind, — Toil, hindrance, hardness, with His virtue take, — And think how fhort a time thy heart may find To labor or to suffer for His sake. Count all the pains that speed thee to thv reft Among the riches of thy purchased right •, Yea, bind them in His name upon thy breast. As jewels for the Bride, the Lamb's delight. And love fhall teach us, while on Him we lean. That, in the certainty of coming bliss, We may be yearning for a world unseen, Yet wear our beautiful array in this. Pre 135 Ours be a loval love for service tried, To fliow by deeds and words, and looks that cheer, How He can bless the scene in which He died. And fill His house with glory even here. Miss A, L. JVar'mg. TREASURES. LET me count my treasures, All my soul holds dear, Given me by dark spirits Whom I used to fear. Through long days of anguifli. And sad nights, did Pain Forge mv fhield. Endurance, Bright and free from ftain ! Doubt, in mifty caverns, 'Mid dark horrors sought, Till my peerless jewel, Faith, to me fhe brought. Sorrow, that I wearied Should remain so long. Wreathed my ftarry glory, The bright Crown of Song. 136 Praise. Strife, that racked my spirit Without hope or reft, Left the blooming flower, Patience, on my breaft. Suffering, that I dreaded. Ignorant of her charms, Laid the fair child. Pity, Smiling, in my arms. So I count my treasures. Stored in days long part, - And I thank the givers, Whom I know at laft ! A. Procter. A THANKSGIVING FOR HIS HOUSE. LORD, Thou haft given me a cell. Wherein to dwell ; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather proof; Under the spars of which I lie Both soft and dry. Where Thou, my chamber for to ward. Haft set a truard Pre 137 Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me while I fleep. Low is my porch, as is my fate, Both void of rtate ; And yet the threfhold of my door Is worn by the poor, Who hither come, and freely get Good words and meat. Like as my parlor, so my hall, And kitchen small ; A little buttery, and therein A little bin. Which keeps my little loaf of bread Unchipt, unflead. Some 'brittle sticks of thorn or brier Make me a fire, Close by whose living coal I fit, And glow like it. Lord, I confess too, when I dine. The pulse is Thine, And all those other bits that be There placed by Thee. The worts, the purflain, and the mess Of water-cress. Which of Thy kindness Thou haft sent : And my content Makes those and my beloved beet To be more sweet. 'T is Thou that crown'ft my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth. 13B Praise. And giv'ft me waflail-bowls to drink, Spiced to the brink. Lord, 't is Thy plenty-dropping hand That sows my land : All this, and better, doft Thou send Me for this end : That I fhould render for my part A thankful heart, Which, fired with incense, I refign As wholly Thine : But the acceptance, — that muft be, O Lord, by Thee. Robert Herrick. 1596. "AS STRANGERS AND PILGRIMS." AS ftrangers, — glad for this good inn Where nobler wayfarers have been ; Yet afking but a little reft : Earth may not keep her spirit-gueft. As those whom no entangling bond Muft draw from life and love beyond, Strangers to all that lures aftray From one plain path, the homeward way. Praise. How muft the pilgrim's load be borne ? With ftaggering limbs and look forlorn ? His Guide chose all that load within ; There 's need of everything, but fin. So trufting Him whose love he knows. Singing along the road he goes j And nightly of his burden makes A pillow till the morning breaks. How thinks the pilgrim of his way As wanderers homefick and aftray ? The ftarlight and the dew he sees ; He feels the bleflinu; of the breeze. 139 The vallev-fliades, how cool and (till ! What splendor from the beetling hill ! He longs to go, he loves to ft:av, For God is both his Home and Way. Strangers to fin ! beloved of God ! Ye track with heaven-light earth's mean sod : For, pilgrims dear, He walks with you, A Guide — but once a Pilgrim too. Lucy Lay com. 140 OUR TITLES. ARE we not Nobles ? We who trace Our pedigree so high That God for us and for our race Created earth and fky, And light and air and time and space, To serve us and then die. Are we not Princes ? we who ftand As heirs befide the throne ; We who can call the promised land Our heritage, our own ; And answer to no less command Than God's, and His alone. Are we not Kings ? both night and day, From early until late. About our bed, about our way, A guard of angels wait ; And so we watch and work and pray In more than royal state. Are we not holy ? Do not start It is God's sacred will Pre 141 To call us temples set apart His Holy Gholl may fill: Our very food . . . . O hufh, my heart, Adore IT and be ItiU ! Are we not more ? our life fliall be Immortal and divine. The nature Mary gave to thee, Dear Jesus, Hill is thine ; Adoring in thy heart, I see Such blood as beats in mine. O God, that w^e can dare to fail, And dare to say we muft ! O God, that we can ever trail Such banners in the duft. Can let such ftarry honors pale. And such a blazon ruft ! Shall we upon such titles bring The taint of fm and (hame ? Shall we, the children of the King, Who hold so grand a claim, Tarnifli by any meaner thing The glory of our name ? Miss A. A. Prober. 142 Praise. WHEN all Thy mercies, O my God, My rifing soul surveys, Transported with the view, I 'm loft In wonder, love, and praise. Unnumbered comforts to my soul Thy tender care beftowed. Before my infant heart conceived From whence these comforts flowed. When in the flippery paths of youth With heedless fteps I ran. Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, And led me up to man. Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, It gently cleared my way ; And through the pleafing snares of vice. More to be feared than they. When worn with fickness, oft haft Thou With health renewed my face ; And, when in fins and sorrows sunk. Revived my soul with grace. Praise. 1 43 Ten thousand, thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the leaft a cheerful heart That taftes those gifts with joy. Through every period of my life Thy goodness I '11 pursue ; And after death, in diftant worlds, The glorious theme renew ! Joseph Addison. 1728. " Bless the Lord, O mv soul, and forget not all his benefits, ciii. i. MY soul repeat His praise. Whose mercies are so great : Whose anger is so flow to rise. So ready to abate. — Psalm High as the heavens are raised Above the ground we tread, So far the riches of his grace Our higheft thoughts exceed. His power subdues our fins. And his forgiving love. Far as the eaft is from the weft, Doth all our guilt remove. 144 Praise. The pity of the Lord To those that fear his name Is such as tender parents feel ; He knows our feeble frame. Our days are as the grass, Or like the morning flower ; If one fharp blaft sweeps o'er the field, It withers in an hour. But thy compaflions. Lord, To endless years endure ; And children's children ever find Thy word of promise sure. Isaac JVatts. 1674- 1748. SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. COME, ye thankful people, come. Raise the song of Harveft-Home ! All is safely gathered in, Ere the winter-ftorms begin ; God, our Maker, doth provide For our wants to be supplied ; Come to God's own temple, come. Raise the song of Harveft-Home ! Praise. 145 We oursehcs are God's own field, Fruit unto His praise to yield ; Wheat and tares together sown, Unto joy or sorrow grown : Firft the blade, and then the ear, Then the full corn (hall appear : Grant, O Harveft-Lord, that we Wholesome grain and pure may be ! For the Lord our God fliall come. And ihall take His harveft home ! From His field (hall purge away All that doth offend, that day ; Give His angels charge at laft In the fires the tares to caft. But the fruitful ears to ftore In His garner evermore. Then, thou Church triumphant, come, Raise the song of Harveft-Home ! All are safely gathered in. Free from sorrow, free from fin. There forever, purified. In God's garner to abide : Come, ten thousand angels, come. Raise the glorious Harveft-Home ! Heiiry Alford. 1845. 146 Praise. PRAISE TO OUR CREATOR. BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, Ye nations bow with sacred joy ; Know that the Lord is God alone j He can create and He deftroy. His sovereign power, without our aid. Made us of clay, and formed us men ; And when, like wandering flieep, we ftrayed. He brought us to His fold again. We are His people, we His care ; Our souls, and all our mortal frame : What lafling honors {hall we rear. Almighty Maker, to Thy name ? We '11 crowd Thy gates, with thankful songs. High as the heaven our voices raise ; And earth, with her ten thousand tongues. Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise. Wide as the world is Thy command ; Vaft as eternity Thy love ; Firm as a rock Thy truth fliall ftand. When rolling years fhall cease to move. Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. SELF-EXAMINATION. SELF-CONDEMNATION. " If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things." — i John iii. 20. LORD, many times I am a-weary quite Of my own self, my fin and vanity ; Yet be not Thou, or I am loft outright, Weary of me. And hate againft myself I often bear. And enter with myself in fierce debate; — Take Thou my part againft myself, nor ftiare In that juft hate. Beft friends might loathe us, if what things perverse We know of our own selves they also knew ; — Lord, Holy One ! if Thou, who knoweft worse, Shouldft loathe us too ! R. a Trench. 148 Self- Examination . OFOR a closer walk with God, A calm and heavenly frame, A light to fliine upon the road That leads me to the Lamb ! What peaceful hours I once enjoyed ! How sweet their memory ftill ! But now I find an aching void The world can never fill. Return, O holy Dove, return, Sweet meflenger of reft ; I hate the fins that made thee mourn. And drove thee from my breaft. The deareft idol I have known, Whate'er that idol be, Help me to tear it from thy throne, And worlhip only thee. So fliall my walk be close with God, Calm and serene my frame ; So purer light fhall mark the road That leads me to the Lamb. IFm . Coivper. 1 7 7 9 • Self- Examination. 149 GROWING IN GRACE. " But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Chrift." — z Peter iii. iS. THIS did not once so trouble me, That better I could not love Thee ; But now I feel and know, That only when we love, we find How far our hearts remain behind The love they fhould beftow. While we had little care to call On Thee, and scarcely prayed at all. We seemed enough to pray ; But now we only think with fhame, How seldom to Thy glorious name Our lips their offerings pay. And when we gave yet {lighter heed Unto our suffering brother's need. Our hearts reproached us then Not half so much as now, that we With such a careless eye can see The woes and wants of men. 150 Self-Examination In doing is this knowledge won. To see what yet remains undone ; With this our pride repress ; And give us grace, a growing ftore, That day by day we may do more, And may efteem it less. R. a Trench. THE WORLD. "A nd w hen he is come, he will reprove the world of fin, and of right- eousness, and of judgment." — John xvi. 8. ' r HE world is wise, for the world is old ; 1 Five thousand years their tale have told Yet the world is not happy, as the world mig ht be,_ Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! The world is kind if we afk not too much ; It is sweet to the tafte, and smooth to the touch ; Yet the world is not happy, as the world mig ht be,- Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! The world is ftrong, with an awful ftrength, And full of life in its breadth and ] ength ; Yet the world is not happy, as the world mig ht be,- Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! Self- Examination. 151 The world is so beautiful one may fear Its borrowed beauty might make it too dear ; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! The world is good in its own poor way. There is reft by night and high spirits by day ; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! The Cross fhines fair, and the church-bell rings. And the earth is peopled with holy things ; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! What lackeft thou, world ? for God made thee of old ; Why, — thy faith hath gone out, and thy love grown cold; Thou art not happy, as thou mighteft be. For the want of Chrift's fimplicity. It is blood that thou lackeft, thou poor old world ! Who fhall make thy love hot for thee, frozen old world ? Thou art not happy, as thou mighteft be. For the love of dear Jesus is little in thee. Poor world ! if thou craveft a better day. Remember that Chrift muft have his own way ; I mourn thou art not as thou mighteft be. But the love of God would do all for thee. Frederick Faher. 152 Self- Examination. " Thy people fhall be willing in the day of thy power. — Psalm ex. 3. SAVIOUR ! though my rebellious will Has been, by thy bleft power, renewed ; Yet in its secret workings ftill How much remains to be subdued ! Oft I recall, with grief and (hame. How many years their course had run Ere grace my murmuring heart o'ercame. Ere I could say, " Thy will be done ! " I wifhed a flowery path to tread. And thought 't would safely lead to heaven ; A lonely room, a suffering bed. These for my training-place were given. Long I refifted, mourned, complained, Wifhed any other lot my own ; Thy purpose. Lord, unchanged remained, — What wisdom planned, love carried on. Year after year I turned awav. But marred was every scheme I planned ; Still the same lesson, day by day. Was placed before me, by thy hand. 8elf-Examinatio7i. '53 At length thy patient, wondrous love, Unchanging, tender, pitying, ftrong. Availed that llony heart to move. Which had rebelled, alas ! so long. Then was I taught bv thee to sav, " Do with me what to thee seems beft ; Give, take, whate'er thou wilt awav, Health, comfort, usefulness, or reft. " Be my whole life in suffering spent, But let me be in suffering thine ; Still, O my Lord, I am content, Thou now haft made thy pleasure mine." Charlotte Elliott. " We have need of patience, that after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise." — Heb. x. 36. AND is there nothing to be done, While here, on this fick bed, I lie ? Should I thus wearv to be gone, Thus think, 't were better far to die ? Alas ! that very thought declares How much remains unhallowed ftill ; The soul which God for heaven prepares Has loft her own in His bleft will. 1 54 Self-Examination. And if His work of grace in me Were now wellnigh consummated, Contented, willing, fhould I be To lie for years on this fick bed. For then my faith would be so ftrong, Would bring my blessed Lord so near, That days, weeks, months, would ne'er seem long. With such a Friend my couch to cheer. Full many a sufferer there has seen Such proofs of His transcendent worth, That e'en their bed of pain has been To them a little heaven on earth. O then, my Saviour ! be no more Far from me in my hour of need ; Thou canft the fainting soul reflore. And make the feeble ftrong indeed. O, grant me now that will refigned, That patient, weaned, obedient heart. That loving, peaceful, heavenly mind, Thy Spirit can alone impart. Let me not languish e'en for home. One wifh, one only wifh, be mine ! Each hour more holy to become, More fully and entirely Thine ! Charlotte Elliott. Self-E xaminatioH. 155 AS body when the soul has fled, As barren trees, decayed and dead, Is faith, — a hopeless, lifeless thing, If not of righteous deeds the spring. One cup of healing oil and wine, One tear-drop flied on mercy's (hrine. Is thrice more grateful. Lord, to thee. Than lifted eye or bended knee. In true and heaven-born faith we trace The source of every Chriflian grace ; Within the pious heart it plays, A living fount of joy and praise. Kind deeds of peace and love betray Where'er the ftream has found its way ; But where these spring not rich and fair. The ftream has never wandered there. Drummorid. 1585 - 1649. 156 Self- Examination. BRINGING OUR SHEAVES WITH US. THE time for toil is paft, and night is come, — The laft and saddeft of the harveft eves ; Worn out with labor long and wearisome, Drooping and faint the reapers haften home. Each laden with his {heaves. Laft of the laborers, thy feet I gain. Lord of the harveft ! and my spirit grieves That I am burdened not so much with grain. As with a heaviness of heart and brain ; — Mafter, behold my ftieaves ! Few, light, and worthless, — yet their trifling weight Through all my frame a weary aching leaves ; For long I ftruggled with my hapless fate. And ftayed and toiled till it was dark and late. Yet these are all my ftieaves. Full well I know I have more tares than wheat. Brambles and flowers, dry ftalks, and withered leaves ; Wherefore I blufli and weep, as at thy feet I kneel down reverently, and repeat, Mafter, behold my ftieaves ! Self-Examination . 157 I know these bloflbms, cluftering heavily With CN'cniiig dew upun their folded leaves, Can claim no value nor utility ; — Therefore Ihall fragrancv and beauty be The glory of my (heaves. So do I gather ftrength and hope anew, For well I know thy patient love perceives Not what I did, but what I ftrove to do -, And, though the full, ripe ears be sadly feWy Thou wilt accept my fheaves. Atlantic Monthly. GOD. WHO BY SEARCHING CAN FIND OUT GOD? I CANNOT find Thee! Still on reftless pinion My spirit beats the void where Thou doft dwell ; I wander loft through all Thy vaft dominion, And {brink beneath Thy Light ineffable. I cannot find Thee ! Even when moft adoring Before Thy ftirine I bend in lowlieft prayer, Beyond these bounds of thought, my thought, upsoaring, From furtheft queft comes back ; Thou art not there. Yet high above the limits of my seeing. And folded far within the inmoft heart. And deep below the deeps of conscious being. Thy splendor fliineth ; there, O God ! Thou art. I cannot lose Thee ! Still in Thee abiding. The End is clear, how wide so e'er I roam ; The Law that holds the worlds my fteps is guiding. And I murt reft at laft in Thee, my home. Eliza Scudder. God. 1 59 "I will put my trull in him." — Heb. ii. 13. GIVE to the winds thy fears ; Hope, and be undismayed ; God hears thy fighs, and counts thy tears ; God (hall lift up thy head. Through waves, through clouds and fl:orms. He gentlv' clears thy way ; Wait thou his time, so (hall the night Soon end in joyful day. He everywhere hath rule. And all things serve his might ; His every a6l pure blefling is. His path unsullied light. When He makes bare his arm. What fhall his work withltand ? When He his people's cause defends, Who then fhall ftay his hand ? Leave to his sovereign sway To choose and to command : With wonder filled, thou then fhalt own How wise, how ftrong his hand. 1 60 God. Thou comprehend'ft him not ; Yet earth and heaven tell, God fits 'as sovereign on the throne : He ruleth all things w^ell. Thou seeft our weakness, Lord, Our hearts are known to thee ; O, lift thou up the finking hand, Confirm the feeble knee ! Let us, in life or death. Boldly thy truth declare ; And publifli, with our latefl: breath, Thy love and guardian care. Moraviati. THE Lord is King ! lift up thy voice, O earth, and all ye heavens, rejoice ! From world to world the joy (hall ring, The Lord Omnipotent is King. The Lord is King ! who then fliall dare Refift His will, diftrufi: His care. Or murmur at His wise decrees, Or doubt His royal promises ? God. i6i The Lord is King ! Child of the duft, The Judge of all the earth is jult : Holy and true are all His ways : Let every creature speak His praise. He reigns ! ye saints, exalt your ftrains ; Your God is King, vour Father reigns ; And He is at the Father's fide, The Alan of Love, the crucified. Come, make your wants, your burdens known, He will present them at the Throne ; And angel bands are waiting there His meflaees of love to bear. O, when His wisdom can miftake, His might decay. His love forsake, Then may His children cease to fing, The Lord Omnipotent is King. Alike pervaded by His eye. All parts of His dominion lie ; This world of ours, and worlds unseen, And then the boundary between. One Lord, one empire, all secures ; He reigns, and life and death are yours : Through earth and heaven one song fhall ring, The Lord Omnipotent is King. yofiah Conder. 1856. i62 God. SOMETIMES a light surprises The Chriftian while He fings; It is the Lord, who rises With healing in His wings : When comforts are declining, He grants the soul again A season of clear fliining To cheer it after rain. In holy contemplation We sweetly then pursue The theme of God's salvation, And find it ever new : Set free from present sorrow, We cheerfully can say. E'en let the unknown morrow Bring with it what it may. It can brino; with it nothing But He will bear us through ; Who gives the lilies clothing Will clothe His people too ; Beneath the spreading heavens No creature but is fed ; And He, who feeds the ravens, Will give His children bread. God. 163 Thoutrh vine nor fig-tree neither Their wonted fruit fhall bear ; Though all the field fhould wither, Nor flocks nor herds be there ; Yet, God the same abiding, His praise fhall tune mv voice ; For, while in Him confiding, I cannot but rejoice. IVilliam Coivper. 1779- I SHALL NOT WANT. THOU all-sufficient One, Who art The chosen portion of my heart ! Other rejoicing need I none, — I can find all in Thee, Thou chiefeft good to me ! Who has Thee is satisfied ; Who by Thee doth ftill abide Is no more lonely, at Thy fide. To whom Thou doft reveal Thy face. He lives in joy in every place, — In everv time has what he will. 164 God. Who in his deep heart-ground To Thee is firmly bound, Still and joyful knows no fear. Earth cofts him no bitter tear, — Earth grows dim when Thou art near. O higheft joy of joy ! True reft I Comfort of every aching breaft ! Whom can earth trouble and annoy, Whom Thou art near to bless, Who does Thy love pofless ? All I seek for out of Thee Hindrance to my joy might be, And diminifh peace in me. Whom Thou doft call Thy child. Thine own, — By all on earth may be unknown, By all on earth may be reviled : What then? if God be his He needs no other bliss. If I know that I have Thee, Life and ftrength and joy may flee. Griefs may come, — they move not me. Come, O thou blefTed One, My choice ! Now in Thy light make me rejoice, — Come, fill the soul which Thou haft won. II God. 165 Come, take the whole, that I To Thee may live and die. I am Thine, O, be Thou mine. Until in yonder life divine Thy face on me fhall fully fliine ! Terjieegen . 1 7 3 1 . MAJESTY OF GOD. THE Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens moft high. And underneath His feet He caft The darkness of the fky. On cherubim and seraphim Full rovally He rode, And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad. He sat serene upon the floods. Their fury to reftrain ; And He, as sovereign Lord and King For evermore fhall reign, Sternhold. 1540. CHRIST CHRIST'S MESSAGE. HARK ! the glad sound ! the Saviour comes ! The Saviour promised long ! Let every heart prepare a throne, And every voice a song. On him the Spirit, largely poured. Exerts its sacred fire ; Wisdom and might, and zeal and love. His holy breaft inspire. He comes, the prisoner to release. In Satan's bondage held ; The gates of brass before him burft. The iron fetters yield. He comes from thickeft films of vice To clear the mental ray. And on the eyeballs of the blind To pour celeitial day. Chriji. 167 He comes, the broken heart to bind, The bleeding soul to cure, And with the treasures of his grace T' enrich the humble poor. Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace, Thy welcome fliall proclaim. And heaven's eternal arches ring With thy beloved name. Philip Doddridge. 1 755. JESUS ! the very thought is sweet ; In that dear name all heart-joys meet But sweeter than the honey far The glimpses of his presence are. No word is sung more sweet than this ; No name is heard more full of bliss ; No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh. Than Jesus, Son of God, moft high. Jesus, the hope of souls forlorn ! How good to them for fin that mourn ; To them that seek Thee, O how kind ! But what art Thou to them that find ? 1 68 ChriJ}. No tongue of mortal can express, No letters write its blefledness ; Alone, who hath Thee in his heart Knows, love of Jesus, what Thou art. O Jesus, King of wondrous might ; O vi6lor, glorious from the fight ; Sweetness that may not be exprefled. And altogether lovelieft ! St. Bernard. 1153. THE COMFORTER. I LOOK to Thee in every need. And never look in vain ; I feel Thy ftrong and tender love. And all is well again : The thought of Thee is mightier far Than fin and pain and sorrow are. Discouraged in the work of life, Disheartened by its load. Shamed by its failures or its fears, I fink befide the road ; — But let me only think of Thee, And then new heart springs up in me. Chriji. ] 69 Thy calmness bends serene above, Mv relUelVness to Hill ; Around me flows Thy quickening life, To nerve my faltering will ; Thy presence fills nty solitude ; Thy providence turns all to good. Embosomed deep in Thy dear love, Held in Thy law, I ftand ; rhy hand in all things I behold, And all things in Thy hand ; Thou leadeft me by unsought ways, And turn'il: my mourning into praise. Hymns of the Spirit. "CLING TO THE MIGHTY ONE." i^LING to the Mighty One, Ps. Ixxxix. ] 9- V_^ Cling in thy grief; Heb. xii. II Cling to the Holy One, Heb. i. 22. He gives relief; Ps. cxvi. 9. Cling to the Gracious One, Ps. cxvi. 5. Cling in thy pain , Ps. Iv. 4. Cling to the Faithful One, I Thess. V. 24. He will suftain. Ps. xxviii. 8. Cling to the Living One, Heb. vii. 25 Cling in thy woe, Ps. Ixxxvi. 7 • 170 Chr'ijL Cling to the Living One I John iv. 16. Through all below ; Rom. viii. 38, 39. Cling to the Pardoning One, Is. iv. 7. He speaketh peace ; John xiv. 27. Cling to the Healing One, Exod. XV. 26. Anguish shall cease. Ps. cxviii. 3. Cling to the Bleeding One, I John i. 7. Cling to his side ; John XX. 27. Cling to the Risen One, Rom. vi. 9. In Him abide ; John XV. 4. Cling to the Coming One, Rev. xxii. 20. Hope (hall arise ; Titus ii. 13. Cling to the Reigning One, Ps. xcvii. I. Joy lights thine eyes. — * — Ps. xvi. II. "A refuge from the ftorm, a rtiadow from tht ; heat, &c." — Isaiah xxv. 4. T ESUS ! lover of my soul. 1 Let me to thy bosom fly. While the nearer waters roll, While the tempeft ftill is nigh ! Hide me, O my Saviour ! hide, Till the ftorm of life is? paft; Safe into the haven guide j 0, receive my soul at laft! Chrlji, Other refuge have I none ; Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! All my trull on Thee is flayed ; All my help from Thee I bring ; Cover my defenceless head With the fliadow of thy wing ! Wilt Thou not regard my call ? Wilt Thou not accept my prayer ? Lo! I fink, I faint, I fall! Lo ! on Thee I caft my care ! Reach me out thy gracious hand ! While I of thy ftrength receive. Hoping againft hope I ftand, Dying, and behold I live ! Thou, O Chrift, art all I want ; More than all in Thee I find ; Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the fick, and lead the blind ! Just and holy is thy name, I am all unrighteousness ; False and full of fin I am. Thou art full of truth and grace. 171 Plenteous grace with Thee is found, Grace to cover all my fin ; 172 Chriji. Let the healing ftreams abound, Make and keep me pure within. Thou of hfe the fountain art ; Freely let me take of Thee ; Spring Thou up within my heart ; Rise to all eternity. Charles Wejhy. 1740. LOST BUT FOUND. I WAS a wandering fheep, I did not love the fold ; I did not love my Shepherd's voice, I would not be controlled. I was a wayward child, I did not love my home, I did not love my Father's voice, I loved afar to roam. The Shepherd sought his (heep. The Father sought his child. They followed me o'er vale and hill, O'er deserts wafte and wild. They found me nigh to death, Famifhed, and faint, and lone ; They bound me with the bands of love. They saved the wandering one. Chriji. 173 They spoke in tender love, They raised my drooping head ; They gently closed my bleeding wounds, My fainting soul thev fed. They waflied my filth away, Thev made me clean and fair ; They brought me to my home in peace, — The long-sought wanderer ! Jesus my Shepherd is, 'T was He that loved my soul, 'T was He that wafhed me in his blood, 'T was He that made me whole. 'T was He that sought the loft. That found the wandering fheep, 'T was He that brought me to the fold, 'T is He that ftill doth keep. I was a wandering fheep, I would not be controlled : But now I love my Shepherd's voice, I love, I lo\'e the fold ! I was a wayward child, I once preferred to roam : But now I love my Father's voice, I love, I love his home ! H. Bonar, i860. 174 Chriji. THOU art the Way ; and he who fighs, Amid this ftarless wafte of woe, To find a pathway to the fkies, A Hght from heaven's eternal glow, By Thee muft come, thou Gate of love. Through which the saints undoubting trod, Till faith discovers, like the dove. An ark, a refting-place in God. Thou art the Truth, whose fteady day Shines on through earthly blight and bloom ; The pure, the everlafting Ray, The Lamp that fhines e'en in the tomb ; The Light that out of darkness springs, And guideth those that blindly go ; The Word whose precious radiance flings Its luftre upon all below. Thou art the Life, the blefled Well With living waters gufhing o'er. Which those that drink fhall ever dwell Where fin and thirft are known no more. Thou art the myftic Pillar given. Our Lamp by night, our Light by day ; Thou art the sacred Bread from heaven ; Thou art the Life, the Truth, the Way. THE HOLY SPIRIT. COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers, Kindle a flame of sacred love In these cold hearts of ours. In vain we tune our formal songs, In vain we ftrive to rise ; Hosannas languifh on our tongues, And our devotion dies. Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, With all thy quickening powers; Come, fhed abroad a Saviour's love, And that {hall kindle ours. Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 176 The Holy Spirit. COME, MIGHTY SPIRIT. COME, mighty Spirit, penetrate This heart and soul of mine ; And my whole being with thy grace Pervade, O Life divine ! As this clear air surrounds the earth, Thy grace around me roll ; As the frefh light pervades the air. So pierce and fill my soul. As from these clouds drops down in love The precious summer rain, So from thyself pour down the flood That frefliens all again. As these fair flowers exhale their scent In gladness at our feet, So from thyself let fragrance breathe, More heavenly and more sweet. Thus life within our lifeless hearts Shall make its glad abode ; And we (hall fhine in beauteous light. Filled with the light of God. H. Bonar. i860. % The Holy Spirit. 177 VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS. COME, Holy Spirit ! from the height, Of heaven send down Thy blefled light ! Come, Father of the friendless poor ! Giver of gifts, and Light of hearts. Come with that unclion which imparts Such consolations as endure. The Soul's Refrefhment and her Gueft, Shelter in heat, in labor Reft, The sweeteft Solace in our woe ! Come, blissful Light ! O come and fill, In all Thy faithful, heart and will. And make our inward fervor glow. Where Thou art, Lord ! there is no ill. For evil's self Thy light can kill. O let that light upon us rise. Lord ! heal our wounds, and cleanse our ftains, f ountain of grace ! and with thy rains Our barren spirits fertilize. Bend with Thy fires our ftubborn will. And quicken what the world would chill, And homeward call the feet that ftray : 178 The Holy Spirit. Virtue's reward, and final grace, The Eternal vifion face to face. Spirit of Love ! for these we pray. Come, Holy Spirit ! bid us live ; To those who truft Thy mercy give Joys that through endless ages flow : Thy various gifts, foretaftes of heaven. Those that are named Thy sacred Seven, On us, O God of love, beftow. Frederick Faber. 1856. HOLY COMMUNION. THEY talked of Jesus as they went ; And Jesus, all unknown. Did at their fide himself present With sweetness all his own. Swift as He oped the sacred word. His glory they discerned ; And swift, as his dear voice they heard, Their hearts within them burned. He would have left them, but that they With prayers his love alTailed : " Depart not yet ! a little ftay ! " They prefled Him, and prevailed. \ The Holy Spirit. 179 And Jesus was revealed, as there He bleded and brake the bread : But, while they marked his hea\cnly air, The matchless Gueft had fled. And thus at times, as Chriftians talk Of Jesus and his word. He joins two friends amidft their walk. And makes, unseen, a third. And O how sweet their converse flows ! Their holv theme how clear ! How warm with love each bosom glows, If Jesus be but near ! And they that woo his vifits sweet. And will not let Him go, Oft, while his broken bread thev eat. His soul-felt presence know : His gathered friends He loves to meet. And fill with joy their faith. When thev with melting hearts repeat The memory of his death. But such sweet vifits here are brief; Dispensed from ftage to fi:age (A cheering and a prized relief) Of faith's hard pilgrimage. There is a scene where Jesus n2'er. Ne'er leaves his happy guedi ; He spreads a ceaseless banquet there. And love ftill fires their breads. Thomas Grin field. 1836. 180 The Holy Spirit. CANA. DEAR Friend, whose presence in the house, Whose gracious word benign, Could once at Cana's wedding feaft Turn water into wine, — Come vifit us, and when dull work Grows weary, line on line. Revive our souls, and make us see Life's water glow as wine. Gay mirth fhall deepen into joy. Earth's hopes (hall grow divine. When Jesus vifits us, to turn Life's water into wine. The social talk, the evening fire. The homely household fhrine, Shall glow with angels' vifits when The Lord pours out the wine ! For when self-seeking turns to love. Which knows not mine and thine, The miracle again is wrought. And water changed to wine. Rev. fas. F. Clarke. 1856. 5 LOVE GLORY TO GOD ALONE. O LOVED ! but not enough, though dearer far Than self and its moft loved enjoyments are ; None duly loves Thee, but who, nobly free From sensual objedls, finds his all in Thee. Glory of God ! thou ftranger here below, Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wifh to know ; Our faith and reason are both fhocked to find Man in the poft of honor. Thee behind. My soul ! reft happy in thy low eftate. Nor hope nor wifh to be efteemed or great : To take the impreflion of a Will Divine, Be that thy glory, and those riches thine. Confess Him righteous in his juft decrees. Love what He loves, and let his pleasures please ; Die daily; from the touch of fin recede; Then thou haft crowned Him, and He reigns indeed. AIada?ne Guy on. 1648—1717. i82 Love. A LITTLE BIRD I AM. Composed in Prison. A LITTLE bird I am, Shut from the fields of air ; And in my cage I fit and fing To Him who placed me there ; Well pleased a prisoner to be. Because, my God, it pleases Thee. Naught have I else to do ; I fing the whole day long ; And He whom moft I love to please Doth liften to my song ; He caught and bound my wandering wing. But ftill He bends to hear me fing. Thou haft an ear to hear, A heart to love and bless ; And though my notes were e'er so rude, Thou wouldft not hear the less ; Because Thou knoweft, as they fall, That love, sweet love, inspires them all. A4y cage confines me round ; Abroad I cannot fly ; Love. 183 But though mv wing is closely bound, Aly heart 's at liberty. My prison walls cannot control The flight, the freedom, of the soul. O, it is good to soar These bolts and bars above, To Him whose purpose I adore, Whose providence I love ; And in Thy mightv will to find The joy, the freedom, of the mind. Madaine Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 . PRISONS DO NOT EXCLUDE GOD. In Prison. STRONG are all the walls around me. That hold me all the day ; But they who thus have bound me Cannot keep God away : My very dungeon walls are dear, Because the God I love is here. Thev know, who thus oppress me, 'T is hard to be alone ; 1 84 But know not One can bless me Who comes through bars and stone : He makes my dungeon's darkness bright, And fills my bosom with delight. Thy love, O God ! rellores me From fighs and tears to praise ; And deep my soul adores Thee, Nor thinks of time or place : I afk no more, in good or ill, But union with Thy holy will. 'T is that which makes my treasure, 'T is that which brings my gain ; Converting woe to pleasure. And reaping joy from pain. O, 't is enough, whate'er befall. To know that God is All in All. Madame Guy on. 1648— 1717, LOVE CONSTITUTES MY CRIME. In Prison. LOVE confUtutes my crime ; For this they keep me here, Imprisoned thus so long a time For Him I hold so dear ; Love. And yet I am, as when I came, The subject of this holy flame. How can I better grow ! How from mv own heart flv ! Those who imprison me Ihould know True love can never die. Yea, tread and crufh it with disdain. And it will live and burn again. And am I then to blame ? He 's always in my fight ; And having once inspired the flame. He always keeps it bright. For this thev smite me and reprove, Because I cannot cease to love. 185 What power fhall dim its ray. Dropped burning from above ! Eternal Life fhall ne'er decay ; God is the life of love. And when its source of life is o'er, And only then, 't will fhine no more. Madame Giiyon. 1648 1717. i86 Love. THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE, In Prison. LOVE ! if thy deftined sacrifice am I, Come, flay thy vi6lim, and prepare thy fires ; Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me die The death which every soul that lives defires. I watch my hours, and see them fleet away ; The time is long that I have languifhed here; Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey. With no reluctance, cheerful and fincere. To me 't is equal, whether love ordain My life or death, appoint me pain or ease ; My soul perceives no real ill in pain ; In ease or health no real good flie sees. One good (he covets, and that good alone. To choose thy will, from selfifh bias free ; And to prefer a cottage to a throne. And grief to comfort, if it pleases Thee. That we fhould bear the cross is thy command. Die to the world, and live to self no more ; Suff^er, unmoved, beneath the rudeft hand ; When fhipwrecked pleased as when upon the fhore. Madame Guyon. 1 648 —l"]!"]. Love. 187 THE LIGHT ABOVE US. THERE is a light in yonder fkies, A light unseen by outward eyes ; But clear and bright to inward sense It (liines, the ftar of Providence. The radiance of the central throne. It comes from God, and God alone ; — The ray that never yet grew pale. The ftar that " ihines within the veil." And faith, unchecked by earthly fears. Shall lift its eye, though filled with tears, And while around 't is dark as night, Untired, fliall mark that heavenly light. In vain they smite me. Men but do What God permits with different view ; — To outward fight they wield the rod. But faith proclaims it all of God. Unmoved, then, let me keep my way ; Supported by that cheering ray Which, fhining diftant, renders clear The clouds and darkness thronsing near. Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7. Love. FOREST HYMN. HERE, sweetly forgetting and wholly forgot By the world and its turbulent throng, The birds and the ftream lend me rnanv a note That aids meditation and song. Ye desolate scenes, to your solitude led. My life I in praises employ. And scarce know the source of the tears that I flied, Whether springing from sorrow or joy. Though awfully filent, and ftiaggy and rude, I am charmed with the peace ye afford ; Your fhades are a temple where none will intrude, The abode of my Lover and Lord. Ah, send me not back to the race of mankind, Perversely by folly beguiled ; For where in the crowds I have left fliall I find The spirit and heart of a child ? Here let me, though fixed in a desert, be free, A little one whom they despise ; Though loft: to the world, if in union with Thee, I am holy, and happy, and wise. Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 . 1 89 DIVINE CONSOLATIONS. MY heart is easy and mv burden light ; I smile, though sad, when God is in my fight ; The more mv woes in secret I deplore, I tafte thy goodness, and I love Thee more. There, while a solemn ftillness reigns around, Faith, love, and hope within my soul abound ; And while the world suppose me loft in care, The jovs of angels unperceived I ftiare. Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou Sovereign Good ! Thou art not loved, because not underftood ; This grieves me moft, that vain pursuits beguile Ungrateful men, regardless of thy smile. Frail beauty and false honor are adored. While Thee they scorn, and trifle with thy word ; Pass, unconcerned, a Saviour's sorrows by. And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die. Mada?ne Guy on . 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 . I go Love. RESIGNATION. I PLACE an offering at Thy fhrine, From taint and blemifli clear, Simple and pure in its defign, Of all that I hold dear. I yield Thee back thy gifts again, Thy gifts which mofl: I prize ; Defirous only to retain The notice of thine eyes. But if by thine adored decree That blefPing be denied, Refigned, and unreluilant, see My every wifli subfide. Thy will in all things I approve. Exalted or caft down ; Thy will in every ftate I love. And even in thy frown. Madame Guy on. 1648- 1717 Love. 191 LOVE. YES ! I will always love ; and, as I ought, Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice ; Preferring love, too vaft for human thought. In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice. Whv have I not a thousand, thousand hearts. Lord of my soul ! that they might all be thine ? If thou approve, — the zeal thy smile imparts. How fliould it ever fail ? Can such a fire decline ? Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire ; Its object heavenly, it muft ever blaze ; Eternal love a God muft needs inspire. When once he wins the heart and fits it for his praise. Self-love dismifi^ed, — 't is then we live indeed ; In her embrace, death, only death is found ; Come then, one noble effort, and succeed, Caft off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound. O, I would cry, that all the world might hear. Ye self-tormenters, lo\e your God alone ; Let his unequalled excellence be dear. Dear to your inmoft souls, and make him all your own. Madame Guyon. 1648— 171 7. 192 Love. JOY IN THE CROSS. LONG plunged in sorrow, I refign My soul to that dear hand of Thine, Without reserve or fear ; That hand fhall wipe my ftreaming eyes, Or into smiles of glad surprise Transform the falling tear. My sole polTefTion is Thy love ; In earth beneath or heaven above, I have no other ftore ; And though with fervent suit I pray, And importune Thee night and day, I afk Thee nothing more. My rapid hours pursue the course Prescribed them by love's sweeteft force. And I Thy sovereign will. Without a wifh to 'scape my doom ; Though ftill a sufferer from the womb. And doomed to suffer ftill. By Thy command, whene'er I ftray. Sorrow attends me all my way, A never-failing friend ; Love. 193 And, if my sufferings may augment Thy praise, behold me well content, Let Sorrow ftill attend ! It cofts me no regret, that fhe Who followed Chrift fhould follow me ; And though, where'er flie goes. Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, I love her, and extra6l a sweet From all her bitter woes. Adieu! ye vain delights of earth, Infipid sports and childifli mirth, I tafte no sweets in you ; Unknown delights are in the cross; All joy befide to me is dross. And Jesus thought so too. The Cross ! O ravifhment and bliss, — How grateful e'en its anguifh is. Its bitterness how sweet ! There every sense, and all the mind, In all her faculties refined, Tafte happiness complete. Souls, once enabled to disdain Base, sublunary joys, maintain Their dignity secure ; The fever of desire is pafled, And love has all its genuine tafte, Is delicate and pure. 13 194 Love. Self-love no grace in Sorrow sees, Consults her own peculiar ease ; 'T is all the bliss (he knows ; But nobler aims true Love employ, In self-denial is her joy, In suffering her repose. Sorrow and Love go fide bv side ; Nor height nor depth can e'er divide Their heaven-appointed bands ; Those dear aflbciates ftill are one. Nor till the race of life is run Disjoin their wedded hands. Jesus, avenger of our fall. Thou faithful lover, above all The cross have ever borne \ O tell me — life is in thy voice — How much afflictions were thy choice, And floth and ease thy scorn ! Thy choice and mine fhall be the same, Inspirer of that holy flame. Which muft forever blaze ! To take the cross and follow Thee, Where love and duty lead, {hall be My portion and my praise. Madame Guy on. 1 648 — 1 7 1 7. 195 DIVINE ADOPTION. HOW happy are the new-born race, Partakers of adopting grace ! How pure the bliss they fhare ! Hid from the world and all its eyes, Within their heart the blefling lies. And conscience feels it there. The moment we believe, 't is ours ; And if we love with all our powers The God from whom it came, And if we serve with hearts fincere, 'T is ftill discernible and clear An undisputed claim. But ah ! if foul and wilful fin Stain and dishonor us within. Farewell the joy we knew ; Again the flaves of nature's sway. In lab'rinths of our own we ftray. Without a guide or clew. The chafte and pure, who fear to grieve The gracious Spirit thev receive, His work diitindtly trace. 196 Love. And, ftrong in undifTembling love, Boldly aiFert and clearly prove Their hearts his dwelling-place. O meflenger of dear delight. Whose voice dispels the deepeft night, Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove ! With thee at hand to soothe our pains, No wifh unsatisfied remains, No tafk but that of love. 'T is love unites what fin divides ; The centre where all bliss refides ; To which the soul once brought. Reclining on the firft great Cause, From his abounding sweetness draws Peace palling human thought. Sorrow foregoes its nature there. And life aflumes a tranquil air. Diverted of its woes ; There, sovereign goodness soothes the breaft, Till then incapable of reft. In sacred, sure repose. Madame Guy on. 1648- 17 17. Love. 197 GOD'S GLORY AND GOODNESS. ALMIGHTY Former of this wondrous plan, Faintly reflected in thine image, man ; Holy and juft ! the greatness of whose name Fills and supports this universal frame ! Diffused throughout infinitude of space, Who art thyself thine own vaft dwelling-place ; Soul of our soul ! whom yet no sense of ours Discerns, eluding our moft a6live powers ; — Encircling fhades attend thine awful throne. That veil thy face, and keep Thee ftill unknown ; Unknown, though dwelling in our inmoft part, Lord of the thoughts, and sovereign of the heart. Thou art my bliss ! the light by which I move ! In Thee, O God ! dwells all that I can love. Where'er I turn, I see thy power and grace, Which ever watch, and bless our heedless race. O, then repeat the truth that never tires ; No God is like the God my soul defires ; He at whose voice heaven trembles, even He, Great as He is, knows how to ftoop to me. 198 Love. Vain pageantry and pomp of earth, adieu ! I have no wilh, no memory for you ! Rich in God's love, I feel my nobleft pride Spring from the sense of having naught befide. Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7. ENTIRE SUBMISSION. GOD'S ways are not as our ways, His thoughts are not as ours; He wounds us sore with cruel thorns, where we have ftooped for flowers ; But oh ! 't is from the oft-pierced heart those precious drops diftil. That many a life, else all unbleft, with healing balm fhall fill ; Then give, O give the flower to those who prav it so may be. But I would choose to have the thorns, with Thee, dear Lord, with Thee ! Man judgeth man in ignorance, he seeth but in part ; Our trull is in our Maker, God, who searcheth every heart ; And every wrong and every woe, when put beneath our feet. As ftepping-ftones may help us on to His high mercy- seat. Love. 199 Then teach us ftill to smile, O Lord ! though fharp the ftones may be, Remembering that they bring us near to Thee, dear Lord, to Thee ! Mift-veiled and rough the path we tread, e'er haunted as we go With piteous fights of wretchedness, and piteous sounds of woe ; And eagerly for happiness we look on either fide, To find all pleasures time can give leave us unsatisfied ; O make me of those blefled ones from earth's vain troubles free. Whose conftant souls reft every hope in Thee, dear Lord, in Thee ! So bitter is the cup of life, we fain would drink no more. "O let the cup but pass from me!" in anguifli we im- plore ; But days and months and years roll on, and lo ! 't is afked at length. When was it that our souls put on new majeftv and ftrength ? All is revealed, the Marah-draught no longer we would flee ; 'T is held in wisdom to our lips by Thee, dear Lord, by Thee ! Our neareft and our deareft go, — go from us one by one ; Where now are those who walked with us 'neath youth's unclouded sun ? 200 Love. Sadder than separation, sadder than death, came change, And our once blooming Paradise is now a desert ftrange ; Yet in this desolation, I afk but faith to see That nothing can divide us now from Thee, dear Lord, from Thee ! NEARER, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! E'en though it be a cross That raiseth me ; Still all my song (hall be. Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! Though like the wanderer, The sun gone down. Darkness be over me. My reft a ftone ; Yet in my dreams I 'd be Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! There let the way appear Steps unto Heaven ; All that Thou send'ft to me In mercy given ; Love, 201 Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! Then with my waking thoughts Bright with Thy praise. Out of my ftony griefs Bethel I '11 raise ; So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! Or if on joyful wing Cleaving the fky. Sun, moon, and ftars forgot. Upwards I fly. Still all my song fhall be. Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee ! Sarah F. Adams. 1848. THOUGH some good things of lower worth My heart is called on to refign, Of all the gifts in heaven and earth. The ffreateft and the beft is mine : 202 Love. The love of God in Chrift made known, — The love that is enough alone, My Father's love is all my own. My soul's Reftorer, let me learn In that deep love to live and reft, — Let me the precious thing discern Of which I am indeed pofleiTed. My treasure let me feel and see. And let my moments, as they flee, Unfold my endless life in Thee. Let me not dwell so much within My bounded heart, with anxious heed. Where all my searches meet with fin, And nothing satisfies my need. It fhuts me from the sound and fight Of that pure world of life and light. Which has no breadth or length or height. Let me Thy power. Thy beauty see ; So fliall the hopeless labor cease. And my free heart fhall follow Thee Through paths of everlafting peace. My ftrength Thy gift, — my life Thy care, I {hall forget to seek elsewhere The wealth to which my soul is heir. I was not called to walk alone, To clothe jnyself with love and light ; Lmie. 203 And for Thy glory, not my own, My soul is precious in Thy fight. My evil heart can never be A home, a heritage for me, — But Thou canll make it fit for Thee. Misi A. L. Waring. 1862. MY heart is refting, O my God, — I will give thanks and fing ; My heart is at the secret source Of every precious thing. Now the frail vefl'el Thou haft made No hand but Thine can fill, — For the waters of the earth have failed. And I am thirfty ftill. I thirft for springs of heavenly life. And here all day they rise ; I seek the treasure of Thv love, And close at hand it lies. And a new song is in my mouth. To long-loved mufic set, — Glory to Thee for all the grace I have not tafted yet. 204 Love. Glory to Thee for ftrength withheld, For want and weakness known, — And the fear that sends me to Thy breaft For what is mofl: my own. I have a heritage of joy That yet I muft not see ; But the hand that bled to make it mine Is keeping it for me. There is a certainty of love That sets my heart at reft, — A calm affurance for to-day That to be poor is beft, — A prayer repofing on His truth Who hath made all things mine, That draws my captive will to Him, And makes it one with Thine. I will give thanks for suffering now, For want and toil and loss, — For the death that fin makes hard and flow. Upon my Saviour's cross. Thanks for the little spring of love That gives me ftrength to say. If they will leave me part in Him, Let all things pass away. Mhs A. L. Waring. 1862. Love, 205 "Thou wilt keep him in perfcdl peace whose mind is ftayed on Thee because he trufteth in Thee." — Isa. xxvi. 3. OTHIS is blefllng, this is reft! Into thine arms, O Lord, I flee : I hide me in thy faithful breaft, And pour out all my soul to Thee. There is a hoft difluading me, — But, all their voices far above, I hear thy words, — "O tafte and see The comfort of a Saviour's love," And, hufliing every adverse sound. Songs of defence my soul surround, As if all saints encamped about One trufting heart, pursued by doubt. And O how solemn, yet how sweet, Their one aflured, persuafive ftrain ! "The Lord of Hofts is thy retreat. The Man who bore thy fin, thy pain. Still in his hand thy times remain, — Still of his body thou art part ; And he will prove his right to reign O'er all things that concern thy heart." tenderness, O truth divine ! Lord, I am altogether thine. 1 have bowed down, — I need not flee, - Peace, peace is mine in trufting Thee. 2o6 Love, And now I count supremely kind The rule that once I thought severe, And precious to my altered mind At length thy leaft reproofs appear. Now to the love that cafts out fear Mercy and truth indeed seem one ; Why fhould I hold my ease so dear ? The work of training muft be done. I muft be taught what I would know I muft be led where I would go, And all the reft ordained for me. Till that which is not seen I see. Is to be found in trufting Thee. Mhs A. L. TFaring. Psalm xiii. 7, 8. GO not far from me, O my Strength, Whom all my times obey ; Take from me anything Thou wilt. But go not Thou away, — And let the ftorm that does Thy work Deal with me as it may. On Thy compaflion I repose, In weakness and diftress : 207 I will not afk for greater ease, Lelt I fhould love Thee less. O, 't is a blelled thing for me To need Thy tenderness. While many sympathizing hearts For my deliverance care, Thou, in Thy wiser, ftronger love. Art teaching me to bear, — By the secret voice of thankful so And calm, confiding prayer. Thy love has many a lighted path No outward eye can trace, And my heart sees Thee in the deep With darkness on its face. And communes with Thee, 'mid the ftorm. As in a secret place. O Comforter of God's redeemed, Whom the world does not see, What hand fhould pluck me from the flood That cafts my soul on Thee ? Who would not suffer pain like mine. To be consoled like me ? When I am feeble as a child. And flefh and heart give way. Then on Thy everlafling ftrength With paflive trufl I fW, 2o8 Love. And the rough wind becomes a song, The darkness fhines like day. O blefled are the eyes that see, Though filent anguifh fhow The love that in their hours of fleep Unthanked may come and go, And blefled are the ears that hear, Though kept awake by woe. Happy are they that learn, in Thee, Though patient suffering teach. The secret of enduring ftrength. And praise too deep for speech, — Peace that no prefllire from without, No ftrife within, can reach. There is no death for me to fear. For Chrift:, my Lord, hath died ; There is no curse in this my pain. For he was crucified ; And it is fellowflnp with him That keeps me near his fide. My heart is fixed, O God, my flrength, My heart is ftrong to bear ; I will be joyful in Thy love. And peaceful in Thy care. Deal with me, for my Saviour's sake, According to his prayer. 209 No suffering while it lafts is joy, How bleft soe'er it be, — Yet may the chaftened child be glad His Father's face to see ; And O it is not hard to bear What muft be borne in Thee. It is not hard to bear by faith In Thy own bosom laid The trial of a soul redeemed, For Thy rejoicing made. Well may the heart in patience reft. That none can make afraid. Safe in Thy san6tifying grace. Almighty to reftore, — Borne onward, fin and death behind. And love and life before, — O let my soul abound in hope. And praise Thee more and more ! Deep unto deep may call, but I With peaceful heart will say, — Thy loving-kindness hath a charge No waves can take away ; And let the ftorm that speeds me home Deal with me as it may. Miss A. L. Waring. 14 2 1 o Love. LOVE TO MY LORD. " Let us lift up our heart with our hands unto God in the heavens." Lam. iii. 41. " T T AD I a thousand hearts, I 'd raise i- J. Them all in my Redeemer's praise," We sometimes cry ; And ftill we find it hard to give Our one poor offering, and live As He were by ! O pureft, trueft, boundless love ! Worthy of Him who reigns above, — Our heavenly guide ! He takes the heart we fain would give. He deigns in it himself to live. With us to 'bide. Tune, Lord, this heart as 'twere a lyre Of heavenly make, till every wire And every chord Wake but one ftrain, — one deepeft thrill. Long, louder, sweeter, fuller ftill, — Love to my Lord ! FroTH Louisa von Plettenhaus. Love. 2 1 1 HAD I the tongues of Greeks and Jews, And nobler speech than angels use, If love be absent, I am found. Like tinkling brass, an empty sound. Were I inspired to preach and tell All that is done in heaven and hell, — Or could my faith the world remove, — Still I am nothing without love. Should I difliribute all my ftore To feed the hungry, clothe the poor, — Or give my body to the flame. To gain a martyr's glorious name, — If love to God and love to men Be absent, all my hopes are vain ; Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal. The work of love can e'er fulfil. Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 212 THE LOVE OF GOD. MY God ! Thy boundless love I praise ; How bright on high its glories blaze ! How sweetly bloom below ! It ftreams from Thine eternal throne ; Through heaven its joys forever run, And o'er the earth they flow. 'T is love that paints the purple morn, And bids the clouds, in air upborne. Their genial drops diftil ; In every vernal beam it glows, And breathes in every gale that blows. And glides in every rill. But in Thy word I see it (hine With grace and glories more divine. Proclaiming fins forgiven ; There, Faith, bright cherub, points the way To realms of everlafting day, And opens all her heaven. Then let the love, that makes me bleft, With cheerful praise inspire my breaft. And ardent gratitude ; 213 And all my thoughts and pafTions tend To Thee, my Father and my Friend, My soul's eternal good. Henry Moore. 1806. GOD OUR SHEPHERD. THE Lord my pafture fhall prepare, And feed me with a fhepherd's care ; His presence fhall my wants supply. And guard me with a watchful eye : Mv noonday walks He {hall attend. And all mv midnight hours defend. When in the sultry glebe I faint. Or on the thirfty mountain pant. To fertile vales and dewy meads My weary, wandering fteps He leads, Where peaceful rivers, soft and flow, Amid the verdant landscape flow. Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds I fl:ray, Thy bountv fhall my pains beguile ; The barren wilderness fhall smile. With sudden greens and herbage crowned, And flireams fhall murmur all around. 214 Love, Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, My fteadfaft heart {hall fear no ill. For Thou, O Lord ! art with me ftill ; Thy friendly crook fhall give me aid. And guide me through the dreadful fliade. 'Joseph Addison. 1728. SOWING AND REAPING. They that sow in tears ihall reap in joy."- — Psalm cxxvi. 5. SOW with a generous hand ; Pause not for toil or pain ; Weary not through the heat of summer. Weary not through the cold spring rain ; But wait till the autumn comes. For the {heaves of golden grain. Scatter the seed, and fear not, — A table will be spread ; What matter if you are too weary To eat your hard-earned bread ? Sow while the earth is broken. For the huno;rv mu{l be fed. Sow ; — while the seeds are lying In the warm earth's bosom deep, Love. And your warm tears fall upon it, They will Itir in their quiet fleep, And the green blades rise the quicker, Perchance, for the tears you weep. Then sow, — for the hours are fleeting, And the seed muft fall to-day. And care not what hands fhall reap it, Or if you fhall have pafled away Before the waving cornfields Shall gladden the sunny day. Sow, — and look onward, upward. Where the ftarry light appears, Where, in spite of the coward's doubting. Or your own heart's trembling fears. You fhall reap in joy the harveft You have sown to-day in tears. Miss A. A. ProSier. 215 A DESIRE. OTO have dwelt in Bethlehem When the ftar of the Lord fhone bright To have fheltered the holy wanderers On that blefled Chriflmas night ! 2l6 Love. To have kifled the tender, way-worn feet Of the Mother undefiled, And, with reverent wonder and deep delight, To have tended the Holy Child! 1 Hufh ! such a glory was not for thee ; But that care may ftill be thine ; For are there not little ones ftill to aid For the sake of the Child divine ? Are there no wandering pilgrims now. To thy heart and thy home to take ? And are there no mothers whose weary hearts You can comfort for Mary's sake ? O to have knelt at Jesus' feet. And to have learnt His heavenly lore ! To have liftened the gentle lelTons He taught On mountain and sea and (hore ! While the rich and the mighty knew Him not, To have meekly done His will! — Hufli! for the worldly reject Him yet. You can serve and love Him ftill. Time cannot filence His mighty words, And though ages have fled away, His gentle accents of love divine Speak to your soul to-day. O to have solaced that weeping one Whom the righteous dared despise I Love. 217 To have tenderly bound up her scattered hair, And have dried her tearful eyes ! Hufh ! there are broken hearts to soothe, And penitent tears to dry, While Magdalen prays for you and them. From her home in the ftarry flcy. O to have followed the mournful way Of those faithful {qv^j forlorn ! And, grace beyond even an angel's hope. The Cross for our Lord have borne ! To have (liared in His tender mother's grief, To ha\e wept at Mary's fide. To have lived as a child in her home, and then In her loving care have died ! Hufh ! and with reverent sorrow ftill Mary's great anguifli fhare ; And learn, for the sake of her Son divine. Thy cross, like His, to bear. The sorrows that weigh on thy soul unite With those which thy Lord has borne. And Mary will comfort thy dying hour. Nor leave thy soul forlorn. O to have seen what we now adore, And, though veiled to faithless fight, To ha\'e known, in the form that Jesus wore. The Lord of Life and Lisht ! 2l8 Hufh ! for He dwells among us ftill, And a grace can yet be thine, Which the scoffer and doubter can never know, The Presence of the Divine. Jesus is with His children yet. For His word can never deceive ; Go where His lowly altars rise, And worfliip, and believe. Miss A. A. Prober. 1859. THE STRANGER. A POOR wayfaring Man of grief Hath often croffed me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer. Nay. I had not power to afk his name, Whither he went, or whence he came. Yet there was something in his eye That won my love, I knew not why. Once, when my scanty meal was spread, He entered, — not a word he spake, — Juft perifhing for want of bread ; I gave him all ; he blefled it, brake. Love. And ate, — but gave me part again Mine was an angel's portion then ; For while I fed with eager hafte, That crull was manna to my tafte. 219 I spied him, where a fountain burll Clear from the rock; his ftrength was gone; The heedless water mocked his thirft. He heard it, saw it hurrying on : I ran to raise the sufferer up ; Thrice from the ftream he drained my cup. Dipt, and returned it running o'er ; I drank, and never thirfted more. 'T was night ; the floods were out ; it blew A winter hurricane aloof; I heard his voice abroad, and flew To bid him welcome to my roof, I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my gueft, Laid him on my own couch to reft ; Then made the hearth my bed, and seemed In Eden's garden while I dreamed. Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, I found him by the highway-fide ; I roused his pulse, brought back his breath. Revived his spirit, and supplied Wine, oil, refrefhment ; he was healed : I had myself a wound concealed ; 220 Love. But from that hour forgot the smart, And peace bound up my broken heart In prison I saw him next, condemned To meet a traitor's death at morn ; The tide of lying tongues I ftemmed, And honored him 'midft fhame and scorn ; My friendfhip's utmoft zeal to try, He afked if I for him would die ? The flefti was weak, my blood ran chill. But the free spirit cried, " I will." Then in a moment to my view The Stranger darted from disguise ; The tokens in his hands I knew. My Saviour flood before mine eyes ! He spake; and my poor name he named: "Of me thou haft not been afhamed ; These deeds fhall thy memorial be ; Fear not, thou didft them unto me." "James Montgomery. 1826. QUIET THE INNER CALM CALM me, my God, and keep me calm, While these hot breezes blow ; Be like the night-dew's cooling balm Upon earth's fevered brow. Calm me, my God, and keep me calm. Soft refting on thy breaft ; Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm. And bid my spirit reft. Calm me, my God, and keep me calm ; Let thine outftretched wing Be like the fhade of Elim's palm Befide her desert spring. Yes, keep me calm, though loud and rude The sounds my ear that greet. Calm in the closet's solitude. Calm in the buftling; ftreet; 222 ^iet. Calm in the hour of buoyant health, Calm in my hour of pain, Calm in my poverty or wealth, Calm in my loss or gain ; Calm in the sufferance of wrong. Like Him who bore my fliame, Calm 'mid the threatening, taunting throng, Who hate Thy holy name ; Calm when the great world's news with power My liftening spirit ftir ; Let not the tidings of the hour E'er find too fond an ear; ,j Calm as the ray of sun or ftar Which ftorms aflail in vain. Moving unruffled through earth's war, The eternal calm to gain. H. Bona?-. 1856. BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD. HE who himself and God would know, Into the filence let him go. And, lifting off pall after pall. Reach to the inmoft depth of all. Let him look forth into the night ; What solemn depths, what filent might ! Those ancient liars, how calm they roll, — He but an atom 'mid the whole ! And, as the evening wind sweeps by, He needs mull: feel his God as nigh ; Muft needs that unseen Presence own, Thus always near, too long unknown. How small, in that uplifted hour. Temptation's lure and pallion's power ! How weak the foe that made him fall, How flrong the soul to conquer all ! A mighty mind of nobler will Sends through his soul its quickening thrill ; No more a creature of the clod. He knows himself a child of God. Martineau, HATH not thy heart within thee burned At evening's calm and holy hour, As if its inmoft depths discerned The presence of a loftier power ? 224 ^iet. Haft thou not heard 'mid foreft glades, While ancient rivers murmured by, A voice from forth th' eternal fhades. That spake a present Deity ? And as upon the sacred page Thine eye in rapt attention turned O'er records of a holier age, Hath not thy heart within thee burned ? It was the voice of God that spake In filence to thy filent heart. And bade each worthier thought awake. And every dream of earth depart. Voice of our God, O yet be near! In low, sweet accents whisper peace ; Direct us on our pathway here. Then bid in heaven our wanderings cease. BulJiHch. FOR INWARD PEACE. OFOR a heart of calm repose Amid the world's loud roar, A life that like a river flows Along a peaceful fhore ! Come, Holy Spirit, ftill my heart With gentleness divine ; Indwelling peace Thou canft impart, O make that blefling mine ! Above these scenes of ftorm and ftrife There spreads a region fair ; Give me to live that higher life. And breathe that heavenly air! Come, Holy Spirit, breathe that peace ! That victory make me win ! Then fhall my soul her conflict cease. And find a heaven within. 225 OPEN, Lord, my inward ear, And bid my heart rejoice ; Bid my quiet spirit hear The comfort of thy voice ; Never in the whirlwind found. Or where earthquakes rock the place, Still and filent is the sound. The whisper of thy grace. From the world of fin and noise And hurrv I withdraw ; 15 226 ^iet. For the small and inward voice I wait with humble awe ; Silent I am now and ftill, Dare not in thy presence move ; To my waiting soul reveal The secret of thy love. Meth. Coll. LET deepeft filence all around Its peaceful fhelter spread ; So fhall the living word abound, The word that wakes the dead. How sweet to wait upon the Lord In flillness and in prayer ! What though no preacher speak the word, A minifter is there. He knows to bend the heart of fteel, He bows the loftieft soul ; O'er all we think and all we feel How matchless his control ! And O how precious is his love In tender mercy given ! It whispers of the bleft above, And ftays the soul on heaven. ^iet. 227 From mind to mind, in ftreams of joy, The holy influence spreads ; 'T is peace, 't is praise without alloy. For God that influence fheds. To Thee, O God, we ftill will pray. And praise Thee as before ; For this thy glorious Gospel-day Teach us to praise Thee more. y. "J. Gurney. THOU hidden Source of calm repose, Thou all-sufficient Love divine. My Help and Refuge from my foes. Secure I am if thou art mine. And, lo ! from fin and grief and fhame I hide me. Father, in thy name. Thy mighty name salvation is, And keeps my happy soul above ; Comfort it brings, and power and peace. And joy and everlafting love : To me, through thy dear Son, are given Pardon and holiness and heaven. 228 ^iet. P'ather, my all in all thou art, My re{t in toil, my ease in pain ; The balm to heal my broken heart ; In ftorms my peace, in loss my gain ; My joy beneath the worldling's frown ; In fhame, my glory and my crown ; — In want, my plentiful supply ; In weakness, my almighty power ; In bonds, my perfect liberty ; My refuge in temptation's hour ; My comfort 'midft all grief and pain, My life in death, my endless gain. C. Wejley. 1739- 1 762. THE child leans on its parent's breaft. Leaves there its cares, and is at reft ; The bird fits finging by his neft, And tells aloud His truft in God, and so is bleft 'Neath every cloud. He has no ftore, he sows no seed ; Yet fings aloud, and doth not heed ; By flowing ftream or grafly mead, He fings to (hame Men, who forget, in fear of need, A Father's name. 229 The heart that trufts forever fings. And feels as light as it had wings ; A well of peace within it springs : Come good or ill, Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings. It is His will -' Isaac IVilliams. 1842. PSALM CXXXI. QUIET, Lord, my froward heart ; Make me teachable and mild, Upright, fimple, free from art ; Make me as a weaned child ; From diftruft and envy free. Pleased with all that pleases Thee. What thou {halt to-day provide. Let me as a child receive ; What to-morrow may betide. Calmly to thy wisdom leave ; 230 ^iet. 'T is enough that Thou wilt care, Why fhould I the burden bear ? As a little child relies On a care beyond his own, Knows he 's neither ftrong nor wise. Fears to ftir a ftep alone ; — Let me thus with Thee abide. As my Father, Guard, and Guide. yohn Neivtojt. 1779. O HAPPY soul that lives on high, While men lie grovelling here ! His hopes are fixed above the fky, And faith forbids his fear. His conscience knows no secret ftings. While grace and joy combine To form a life whose holy springs Are hidden and divine. He waits in secret on his God, His God in secret sees ; Let earth be all in arms abroad, He dwells in heavenly peace. 1 ^iet. 23 1 His pleasures rise from things unseen, Beyond this world and time, Where neither eyes nor ears have been. Nor thoufrhts of mortals climb. He wants no pomp nor ro\al throne To raise his honors here ; Content and pleased to live unknown. Till Chrift his life appear. Isaac IVatts. 1674- 1748. HIDING IN GOD. Psalm xxxi. 20. NOT from the work appointed us to do Our Maker hides us ; Not from the suffering of mortal woe. That oft betides us : But whoso treadeth where the Saviour trod, Where duty guideth, Fearful of nothing but the power of God, His Maker hideth. 232 ^iet. He walks amid the furnace-fires alone, Yet well attended ; P'or lo ! there ftands befide him God's own Son, To earth descended. Thousands and tens of thousands smitten lie Breathless around him ; Safe in the secret place of the Moft High, Death hath not found him. Quiet in God, — the ever-present seal Of faith unspoken, — Believing faces, infant lips, reveal Its nameless token ; A gift beftowed upon the poor opprefTed, To kings forbidden ; Beneath the (hadow of Thy wings to reft. Securely hidden. To bear for them the cross, as if for Thee, Strengthen me ever ; Among Thine hidden ones, O number me. Now and forever ! ^let. 233 "O LORD! HOW HAPPY IS THE TIME." OLORD ! how happy is the time When in Thy love I reft, — When from my weariness I climb E'en to Thv tender breaft. The night of sorrow endeth there, Thy rays outfliine the sun. And in Thy pardon and Thy care The heaven of heavens is won. Let the world call itself my foe. Or let the world allure, I care not for the world, — I go To this tried friend and sure. And when life's fierceft ftorms are "sent Upon life's wildeft sea, My little bark is confident Because it holds by Thee. When the law threatens endless death Upon the dreadful hill, Straightwav from its consuming breath My soul mounts higher ftill. She haftes to Jesus, wounded, flain. And finds in Him a home. 234 ^iet. Whence (he {hall not go forth again, And where no death can come. I do not fear the wilderness Where Thou haft been before ; — Nay, rather would I daily press After Thee, near Thee, more ! Thou art my ftrength ; on Thee I lean •, My heart Thou makeft fmg ; And to Thy paftures green at length Thy chosen flock wilt bring. And if the gate that opens there Is closed to other men, Is it not closed to those who Ihare The heart of Jesus then ? That is not lofing much of life Which is not lofing Thee, Who art as present in the ftrife As ih the vi(£lory ! Therefore, how happy is the time When in Thy love I reft ; When from my weariness I climb E'en to Thy tender breaft. The night of sorrow endeth there, Thy rays outftiine the sun. And in Thy pardon and Thy care The heaven of heavens is won. Frorn the Gerinan of Drejler. 1 i ^iet. 235 TRUST. T KNOW not if or dark or bright X Shall be my lot ; If that wherein my hopes delight Be beft, or not. It mav be mine to drag for years Toil's heavy chain ; Or day and night my meat be tears On bed of pain. Dear faces may surround my hearth With smiles and glee ; Or I mav dwell alone, and mirth Be ftrange to me. My bark is wafted to the ftrand By breath divine ; And on the helm there refts a hand Other than mine. One who has known in ftorms to sail I have on board ; Above the ravins: of the gale I hear my Lord. 1 236 ^iet. He holds me when the billows smite, — I {hall not fall. If fharp, 'tis fhort, — if long, 'tis light, — He tempers all. Safe to the land, safe to the land, — The end is this ; And then with Him go hand in hand Far into bliss. Dean of Canterbury. REST IN THE LORD. MY God, in Thee all fulness lies, All want in me from Thee apart ; In Thee my soul hath endless joys. In me is but an aching heart ; Poor as the pooreft here I pine. In Thee a heavenly kingdom 's mine. Thou seeft whatsoe'er I need. Thou seeft it, and pitieft me ; Thy swift companions hither speed. Ere yet my woes are told to Thee ; Thou heareft. Father, ere we cry, — Shall I not ftill before Thee lie ? ^uiet. 237 I leave to Thee whate'er is mine, And in Thy will I calmly reft ; I know that richeft gifts are Thine, Thou canft and Thou wilt make me bleft, For Thou halt promised, and our Lord Will never break His promised word. Thou loveft me. Father, with the love Wherewith Thou lovedft Chrift thy Son, And so a brightness from above Still glads me, though my tears may run ; For in Thy love I find and know What all the world could ne'er beftow. Then I can let the world go by, And yet be ftill and reft in Thee-, I fit, I walk, I ftand, I lie, Thou ever watcheft over me. And when the yoke is prefling sore, I think, my God lives evermore ! Lyra Germanica. DISCIPLINE. THE world can neither give nor take, Nor can they comprehend. The peace of God, which Chrift has bought. The peace which knows no end. 238 ^iet. The burning bufh was not consumed While God remained there ; The three, when Jesus made the fourth, Found fire as soft as air. God's furnace doth in Zion ftand ; But Zion's God fits by, As the refiner views his gold. With an observant eve. His thoughts are high, His love is wise, His wounds a cure intend; And, though He does not always smile. He loves unto the end. Cento by Selina^ Countess of Huntingdon, Frotn John Mason. 1683. 1780. RESTING IN GOD. MY God protects ; my fears begone ! What can the Rock of Ages move? Safe in thine arms I lay me down. Thine everlafting arms of love. While Thou art intimately nigh, Who, who fhall violate my reft ? ^iet. 239 All powers of evil I defy; I lean upon my Father's brealt. I reft beneath the Almighty's fliade, Mv griefs expire, my troubles cease ; Thou, Lord, on whom my soul is ftayed. Wilt keep me ftill in perfeft peace. Charles IVeJhy. 1739 -I 762. " So that there was neither hammer nor axe, nor any tool of iron, heard in the house while it was building." — i Kings vi. 7. WHEN God upheaved the pillared earth, Hung out the ftars, to light gave birth, Opened its deeps, its carpet spread, 'T was filence all, as chaos fled. When rose the fane on Zion's hill, A work of matchless power and fkill. No axe was heard, no hammer there ; But all was ftill as summer air. Thus laboring through life's working day, In gold or marble, wood or clav. Let Art, through us, its empire pure By quiet toil and fkill secure. 240 ^iet. Thus air and flame fhall space o'ercome, And bring the diftant near to home j While thought in channels new fhall flow, And round the world in filence go. Great God ! thus let the temple rise Whose altar-ftone within us lies, Silent and calm, with fkill divine, Till light immortal round it (hine. Lewis G. Pray. THE HEART'S PRAYER. AS, down in the sunless retreats of the ocean. Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see. So, deep in my soul, the flill prayer of devotion. Unheard by the world, rises, filcnt, to Thee, My God! filent, to Thee, — Pure, warm, filent, to Thee. As (till to the flar of its worfhip, though clouded. The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So, dark when I roam, in this wintry world fhrouded, The hope of my spirit turns, trembling, to Thee, My God ! trembling, to Thee, — True, sure, trembling, to Thee. T. Moore. ^iet. 241 PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL. PEACE, troubled soul ! Thou needft not fear. Thy great Protector ftill is near ; He who has fed will feed thee ftill ; Be calm, and fink into His will ; Who hears the ravens when they cry Will all His children's needs supply. Peace, doubting heart ! diftruft not God ; Though dark the vallev, fteep the way, Still lean upon His ftaff and rod, Still make His providence thy ftay : A sudden calm thv soul (hall fill ; — T is God who whispers, Peace, be ftill ! SUMMER STUDIES. WHY fhouldft thou ftudy in the month of June In dufkv books of Greek and Hebrew lore. When the Great Teacher of all glorious things Paftes in hourlv light before thy door? 16 242 ^iet. There is a brighter book unrolling now ; Fair are its leaves as is the tree of heaven, All veined, and dewed, and gemmed with wondrous figns, To which a healing, myftic power is given. A thousand voices to its ftudy call. From the fair hill-top, from the water-fall ; Where the bird fingeth, and the yellow bee. And the breeze talketh from the airy tree. Now is that glorious resurre6lion time. When all earth's buried beauties have new birth: Behold the yearlv miracle complete, — God hath created a new heaven and earth ! No tree that wants his joyful garments now. No flower but haftes his bravery to don ; God bids thee to this marriage-feall: of joy. Let thy soul put the wedding garment on. All fringed with feftal gold the barberry ftands. The ferns exultant clap their new-made wings. The hemlock ruftles broideries of frefh green. And thousand bells of pearl the blueberry rings. The long, light fingers of the old white pines Do beckon thee into the flickering wood. Where moving spots of light fhow myftic flowers. And wavering mufic fills the dreamy hours. ^iet. 243 Haft thou no time for all this wondrous (how, — No thought to spare ? Wilt thou forever be With thy laft year's dry flower-ftalk and dead leaves, And no new fhoot or bloifom on thy tree ? See how the pines pufli oft' their laft year's leaves, And ftretch beyond them with exultant bound ■, The grass and flowers with hving power o'ergrow Their laft year's remnants on the greening ground. Wilt thou then all thy wintry feelings keep, The old dead routine of thy book-writ lore, Nor deem that God can teach by one bright hour What life hath never taught to thee before ? See what vaft leisure, what unbounded reft. Lie in the bending dome of the blue fky ; Ah ! breathe that life-born languor from thy breaft. And know once more a child's unreasoning joy. Cease, cease to th'ink^ and be content to be ; Swing safe at anchor in fair Nature's bay ; Reason no more, but o'er thy quiet soul Let God's sweet teachings ripple their soft way. Soar with the birds, and flutter with the leaf; Dance with the seeded grass in fringy play ; Sail with the cloud ; wave with the dreaming pine. And float with Nature all the livelong day. 244 ^iet. Call not such hours an idle wafte of life ; Land that lies fallow gains a quiet power ; It treasures from the brooding of God's wings Strength to unfold the future tree and flower. So fhall it be with thee, if reftful ftill Thou rightly ftudieft in the summer hour ; Like a deep fountain which a brook doth fill, Thy mind in seeming reft fhall gather power. And when the summer's glorious fhow is paft. Its miracles no longer charm thy fight. The treasured riches of these thoughtful hours Shall make thy wintry mufings warm and bright. Mrs. H. B. Stnve. OLD AGE ONLY WAITING. A very aged Chriftian, who was so poor as to be in an almshouse, was afked what he was doing now. He replied, " Only waiting." ONLY waiting till the fliadows Are a little longer grown ; Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day's laft beam is flown ; Till the night of earth is faded From the heart once full of day ; Till the ftars of heaven are breaking Through the twilight soft and gray. Only waiting till the reapers Have the laft fheaf gathered home ; For the summer-time is faded, And the autumn winds have come. Quickly, reapers, gather quickly The laft ripe hours of my heart. For the bloom of life is withered, And I haften to depart. 246 Old Age. Only waiting till the angels Open wide the myftic gate, At whose foot I long have lingered, Weary, poor, and desolate. Even now I hear the footfteps. And their voices, far away ; If they call me, I am waiting, Only waiting to obey. Only waiting till the fhadows Are a little longer grown ; Only waiting till the glimmer Of the day's laft beam is flown: Then from out the gathered darkness Holy, deathless ftars fliall rise, By whose light my soul (hall gladly Tread its pathway to the fkies. THE BORDER LAND. FATHER ! into Thy loving hands My feeble spirit I commit. While wandering in these border-lands Until Thy voice (hall summon it. Old Age. Father ! I would not dare to choose A longer life, — an earlier death ; I know not what my soul might lose By fliortened or protracted breath. These border lands are calm and ftill, And solemn are their filent fliades ; And my heart welcomes them until The light of life's long evening fades. I heard them spoken of with dread, As fearful and unquiet places ; Shades where the living and the dead Look sadly in each other's faces. But fince Thy hand hath led me here, And I have seen the border land, — Seen the dark river flowing near. Stood on its brink as now I ftand, — There has been nothing to alarm My trembling soul ; how could I fear While thus encircled with Thine arm ? I never felt Thee half so near. 247 What (hould appall me in a place That brings me hourly nearer Thee ? Where I may almoft see Thy face, — Surely 't is here mv soul would be ! 248 Old Age. They say the waves are dark and deep, — That faith has perifhed in the river ; They speak of death with fear — and weep; Shall my soul perifh ? never, never ! I know that Thou wilt never leave The soul that trembles while it clings To Thee ; I know Thou wilt achieve Its pafTage on Thine outftretched wings. I cannot see the golden gate Unfolding yet to welcome me ; I cannot yet anticipate The joy of heaven's jubilee. But I will calmly watch and pray, Until I hear my Saviour's voice Calling my happy soul away To see His glory, and rejoice. THE TABERNACLE. HOW meanly dwells the immortal mind ! How vile these bodies are ! Why was a clod of earth defigned To enclose a heavenly ftar ? Old Age. Weak cottage where our souls refide ! This flcfh a tottering wall, With frightful breaches gaping wide, The building bends to fall. All round it ftorms of trouble blow, And waves of sorrow roll ; Cold winds and winter ftorms beat through, And pain the tenant soul. " Alas ! how frail our state ! " said I, And thus went murmuring on. Till sudden from the clearing fky A gleam of glory fhone. My soul felt all the glory come, And breathed her native air ; Then fhe remembered heaven her home, And fhe a prisoner here. Straight (he began to change her key, And, jovful in her pains. She sung the frailty of her clay In pleasurable ftrains. 249 How weak the prison where I dwell ! Flefli but a tottering wall ; These breaches cheerfully foretell The house muft fliortly fall. 250 Old Age. No more, my friends, fhall I complain. Though all my heart-ftrings ache ; Welcome disease and every pain That makes the cottage fhake ! Now let the tempeft blow around, Now swell the surges high. And beat the house of bondage down, And let the llranger fly ! I have a manfion built above By the Eternal Hand ; And fhould the earth's old bafis move. My heavenly house muft ftand. Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. I AM old and blind! Men point at me as smitten by God's frown ; Affli6led and deserted of my kind ; Yet I am not caft down. I am weak, yet ftrong ; I murmur not that I no longer see ; Poor, oil, and helpless, I the more belong, Father supreme ! to Thee. Old Age. 251 merciful One ! When men are fartheil, then Thou art moft near ; When friends pass by me, and my weakness fhun, Thy chariot I hear. Thy glorious face Is leaning toward me ; and its holy light Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place, — And there is no more night. On my bended knee I recognize thy purpose clearly (hown : My vifion thou haft dimmed, that I may see Thyself, — thyself alone. 1 have naught to fear ; This darkness is the (hadow of thy wing ; Beneath it I am almoft sacred ; here Can come no evil thing. O, I seem to ftand Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been. Wrapped in the radiance of thy finless land. Which eye hath never seen. Vifions come and go : Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng ; From angel lips I seem to hear the flow Of soft and holv song. 252 Old Age. Is it nothing now, When heaven is opening on my fightless eyes ? - When airs from paradise refrefti my brow The earth in darkness lies. In a purer clime My being fills with rapture, — waves of thought . Roll in upon my spirit, — {trains sublime Break over me unsought. Give me now my lyre ! I feel the ftirrings of a gift divine : Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, Lit by no fkill of mine. Milton. 1608 -1674. I THE AGED BELIEVER. WITH years opprefled, with sorrow worn. Dejected, harafled, fick, forlorn. To Thee, O God, I pray : To Thee my withered hands arise, To Thee I lift these failing eyes ; O caft me not away ! Old Age. 253 Thy mercy heard my infant prayer, Thy love with all a mother's care Suftaincd my childifh days : l^hy goodness watched my ripening youth, And formed my heart to love Thy truth. And filled my lips with praise. O Saviour, has Thy grace declined ? Can years afFe6l the Eternal mind. Or time its love decay ? A thousand ages in Thy fight. And all their long and weary flight Is gone like yefterday. Then, even in age and grief, Thy name Shall ftill my languid heart inflame. And bow my faltering knee ; O yet this bosom feels the fire. This trembling hand and drooping lyre Have yet a ftrain for Thee. Yes ! broken, tuneless, ftill, O Lord, This voice, transported, fhall record Thv goodness, tried so long ; Till, finking flow with calm decay, Its feeble murmurs melt away Into a seraph's song. Sir Robert Grant. 1839. 254 Old Age. GRAY HAIRS. THESE hairs of age are meflengers, Which bid me faft, repent, and pray ; They be of death the harbingers, That do prepare and dress the way ; Wherefore I joy that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be. They be the Hnes that lead the length How far my race was for to run ; They say my youth is fled with ftrength. And how old age is well begun ; The which I feel, and you may see Such lines upon my head to be. They be the ftrings of sober sound. Whose mufic is harmonical \ Their tunes declare a time from ground I came, and how thereto I fliall ; Wherefore I love that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be. God grant to those that white hairs have. No worse them take than I have meant ; Old Age. 255 That after they be laid in grave, Their souls may joy, their lives well spent ; God grant, likewise, that you may see Upon my head such hairs to be. Lord Faux. 1530. WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN ? W'"OULD you be young again? So would not I ; — One tear to memory given. Onward I '11 hie ; — Life's dark wave forded o'er. All but at reft on fhore. Say, would you plunge once more. With home so nigh ? If you might, would you now Retrace your way ? Wander through ftormy wilds, Faint and aftray ? Night's gloomy watches fled. Morning all beaming red, Hope's smiles around us fhed, Heavenward, awav ! 256 Old Age. Where are those dear ones, Our joy and delight, Dear and more dear^ though now Hidden from light ? Where they rejoice to be, There is the home for me i Fly, time, fly speedily. Come, life and light ! Written in her "jbth year by Caroline^ Baroness of Nairn. "COME UNTO ME." COME unto me, when (hadows darkly gather. When the sad heart is weary and diftreft. Seeking for comfort from your Heavenly Father, Come unto me, and I will give you reft ! Ye who have mourned when the spring flowers were taken. When the ripe fruit fell richly to the ground. When the loved flept, in brighter homes to waken. Where their pale brows with spirit-wreaths are crowned. Large are the manfions in thy Father's dwelling. Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim ; Sweet are the harps in holy mufic swelling. Soft are the tones which raise the heavenly hymn. J Old Age. 257 There, like an Eden bloffoming in gladness, Bloom the fair flowers the earth too rudely prefl'ed ; Come unto me, all ve who droop in sadness, Come unto me, and I will 2;i\c you reft. AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes. And raise your voices high ; Awake, and praise that sovereign love That fhows salvation nigh. On all the wings of time it flies. Each moment brings it near; Then welcome each declining day, Welcome each clofing year ! Not many years their round fhall run. Nor many mornings rise. Ere all its glories ftand revealed To our admiring eyes ! Ye wheels of nature, speed your course ! Ye mortal powers, decay ! Faft as ye bring the night of death, Ye bring eternal dav ! PhiUp Doddridge. I 755. 17 258 Old Age. YOUR harps, ye trembling saints, Down from the willows take ; Loud to the praise of Love divine Bid every ftring awake. Though in a foreign land. We are not far from home ; And nearer to our house above We every moment come. His Grace will to the end Stronger and brighter fhine ; Nor present things, nor things to come, Shall quench the spark divine. Faftened within the veil, Hope be your anchor ftrong; His loving Spirit the sweet gale That wafts you smooth along. Or lliould the surges rise, And peace delay to come, Bleft is the sorrow, kind the ftorm. That drives us nearer home. Old Age. The people of His choice He will not caft away ; Yet do not always here expe6l On Tabor's mount to ftay. When we in darkness walk, Nor feel the heavenly flame, Then is the time to truft our God, And reft upon His name. Soon (hall our doubts and fears Subfide at His control ; His loving-kindness fliall break through The midnight of the soul. No wonder, when His love Pervades your kindling breaft. You wifh forever to retain The heart-transporting Guelt. Yet learn, in every ftate. To make His will your own ; And, when the joys of sense depart. To walk by faith alone. 259 Bv anxious fear deprelTed, When from the deep ve mourn, " Lord, why so haftv to depart, So tedious in return ? " 26o Old Age. Still on His plighted Love At all events rely ; The very hidings of His face Shall train thee up to joy. Wait, till the fhadows flee ; Wait thy appointed hour; Wait, till the Bridegroom of thy soul Reveal His Love with power. The time of Love will come. When thou flialt clearly see, Not onlv that He (hed His blood, But that it flowed for thee ! Tarry His leisure, then, Although He seem to ftay ; A moment's intercourse with Him Thy grief will overpay. Blefl: is the man, O God, That ftays himself on Thee ! Who wait for Thy salvation, Lord, Shall Thy salvation see. A. M. Toplady. 1772. Old Age. 261 SKIES are dark and winds are moaning, Leaves around us falling fail, Autumn's saddening power is on us, Bringing memories of the paft. Days of joy, when friends were with us. Friends of blood, and friends of time. Days when thought grew great and glorious. Days of hope almoft sublime. Veil, in mercy veil the future ! Let the present be our cross ; Meekly may we bear it, waiting Future ftrength for future loss. When these bodies, worn and wafted, Fall like leaves 'neath autumn's blight, Take, O take our spirits upward To the realms of heavenly light ! Light, that 's born of our decay, Light, that ne'er fhall wafte away, Light, that ages fhall increase. Light of Life, and endless Peace. Mrs. S. A. Moreivood. 1862. 262 Old Age. He was in all points tempted like as we are." — Heb. iv. 15. WHEN gathering clouds around I view, And days are dark, and friends are ^^\s\, On Him I lean, who not in vain Experienced every human pain : He sees my wants, allays my fears, And counts and treasures up my tears. If aught fhould tempt my soul to ftray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way. To fly the good I would pursue. Or do the ill I would not do. Still He who felt temptation's power Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. If wounded love my bosom swell, Deceived by those I prized too well. He fliall his pitying aid beftow Who felt on earth severer woe ; At once betrayed, denied, or fled. By those who fhared his daily bread. If vexing thoughts within me rise. And sore dismayed my spirit dies. Still He who once vouchsafed to bear The fickening anguifli of despair Old Age. 263 Shall sweetly soothe, fhall gently dry, The throbbing heart, the ftreaming eye. When sorrowing o'er some ftone I bend, Which covers what was once a friend, And from his \oice, his hand, his smile. Divides me for a little while, — Thou, Saviour, mark'ft the tears I flied, P'or Thou didft weep o'er Lazarus dead ! And O, when I have safely paft Through every conflict but the laft. Still, ftill unchanging, watch befide My dying bed, for thou haft died ; Then point to realms of cloudless day. And wipe the lateft tear away ! Then come, Lord Jesus ! come with speed. And help me in my hour of need ; Then hide my fins, and let my faith Be brave and conquer ev'n in death ; Then let me, refti.ng on Thy word. Securely fleep in Thee, my Lord. Sir Robert Grant. 1 839. 264 Old Age. THE DESIRED HAVEN. LORD, the lights are gleaming from the diftant (bore, Where no billows threaten, where no tempefts roar; Long-beloved voices calling me I hear, — O, how sweet their summons falls upon my ear ! Here are foes and ftrangers, faithless hearts and cold ; There is fond affection, fondly proved of old ! Let me hafle to join them ; may it not be so ? Loose the cable, let me go ! Hark, the solemn answer ! hark, the promise sure ! Blefled are the servants who to the end endure ! Yet a little longer hope and tarry on, — Yet a little longer, weak and weary one ! More to perfedt patience, to grow in faith and love. A/lore my ftrength and wisdom and faithfulness to prove; Then the sailing-orders the Captain fliall beftow, — Loose the cable, let thee go ! Hymns of the Church Militant. Old Age. 265 WHEN in the vale of lengthened years My feeble feet fhall tread, And I survey the various scenes Through which I have been led, — How many mercies will my life Before my view unfold ! What countless dangers will be pafled, What tales of sorrow told ! But yet, my soul, if thou canft say, I 've seen my God in all. In every blefling owned his hand. In every loss his call; — If piety has marked my fteps. And love my aftions formed, And purity poffefled my heart. And truth my lips adorned ; — If I an aged servant am Of Jesus and of God, I need not fear the clofing scene. Nor dread th' appointed road. 266 Old Age. This scene will all my labors end, This road conduct on high; With comfort I '11 review the part, And triumph though I die. THE DAWN. THESE years of life, — what do they seem? A little dream Of pain and pleasure blent together, — A time of fharply changing weather ; When brilliant sunbeams gleam and die On heavy ftorm-clouds sailing by, — Where falling tears Are bright with hope, and cold with fears. The years, the clouds, have had their course, — Their mingled force Has bowed my heart and bent my head, — Sunfhine and ftorm alike are fled. And in their place a heavy gray Dulls all the tinting of the dav. Shall growing light Follow the gray? — or deepening night? Old Age. ib-J What fhall the future progress be Of life with me ? God knows, — I roll on Him my care, — Night is not night if He be there. When daylight is no longer mine. And ftars forbidden are to fliine, I '11 turn my eyes To where eternal day (hall rise. That comino; light no mortal cloud Can quite enfhroud ! Through all our doubts, — above the range Of every fear, and every change, — My faith can see, with weary eye, The dawn of heaven on earth's dim fky ; And from afar Shines on my soul the morning ftar. Hymns of the Church Militant. GOD of my childhood and my youth, The Guide of all my days, I have declared thy heavenly truth. And told thy wondrous ways. 268 Old Age. Wilt thou forsake my hoary hairs, And leave my fainting heart ? Who fhall suftain my finking years, If God, my ftrength, depart? Let me thy power and truth proclaim Before the rifing age. And leave a savor of thy name When I ihall quit the ftage. The land of filence and of death Attends my next remove \ O may these poor remains of breath Teach all the world thy love ! haac Watts. 1 6 74 - 1748. WHEN life's tempeftuous ftorms are o'er, How calm he meets the friendly ftiore, Who lived averse from fin ! Such peace on virtue's paths attends, That, where the finner's pleasure ends, The Chriftian's joys begin. See smiling patience smooth his brow ! See bending angels downward bow, To cheer his way on high ! Old Age. 269 While, eager for the bleft abode, He joins with them to praise the God Who taught him how to die. No sorrow drowns his lifted eyes ; No horror wrefts the ftruggling fighs, As from the Tinner's breall ; His God, the God of peace and love. Pours kindly solace from above. And soothes his soul to reft. O grant, my Father and my Friend, Such joys may gild my peaceful end, — So calm my evening close ; While, loosed from every earthly tie. With fteady confidence I fly To Thee from whom I rose. W. Bojion Coll. THE hour of my departure 's come ; I hear the voice that calls me home Now, O my Lord, let trouble cease. Now let thy servant die in peace. The race appointed I have run ; The combat 's o'er, the prize is won ; And now my witness is on high. And now my record 's in the iky. 270 Old Age. I leave the world without a tear, Save for the friends I held so dear: To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend, And to the friendless prove a friend. I come, I come ; at thy command, I give my spirit to thy hand ; Stretch forth thine everlalling arms. And (hield me in the lalt alarms. The hour of my departure 's come ; I hear the voice that calls me home : Now, O my God, let trouble cease •, Now let thy servant die in peace. "John Logan. 1 770. I T OW" bleft is he whose tranquil mind, A When life declines, recalls again The years that time has caft behind, And reaps delight from toil and pain. So, when the tranfient ftorm is part, The sudden gloom and driving fliower. The sweeteft sunfliine is the laft ; The lovelieft is the evening hour. Old Age. 2-^1 THE RIVER PATH. N O bird-song floated down the hill, The tano;led bank below was ftill; No ruftle from the birchen Item, No ripple from the water's hem. The dufk of twilight round us grew, We felt the falling of the dew; For, from us, ere the day was done, The wooded hills fhut. out the sun. But on the river's farther fide We saw the hill-tops glorified, — A tender glow, exceeding fair, A dream of day without its glare. With us the damp, the chill, the gloom : With them the sunset's rosy bloom ; While dark, through willowy viftas seen, The river rolled in (hade between. From out the darkness where we trod We gazed upon those hills of God, Whose light seemed not of moon or sun. We spake not, but our thought was one. 272 Old Age. We paused, as if from that bright (hore Beckoned our dear ones gone before ; And ftilled our beating hearts to hear The voices loll to mortal ear ! Sudden our pathway turned from night ; The hills swung open to the light ; Through their green gates the sunfliine fliowed, A long, flant splendor downward flowed. Down glade and glen and bank it rolled -, It bridged the fhaded fl:ream with gold ; And, borne on piers of mift, allied The fhadowy with the sunlit fide ! " So," prayed we, " when our feet draw near The river, dark with mortal fear, " And the night cometh chill with dew, O Father ! let thv light break through ! "So let the hills of doubt divide. So bridge with faith the sunless tide ! "So let the eyes that fail on earth On thy eternal hills look forth ; "And in thv beckoning angels know The dear ones whom we loved below ! " J. G. IVhhtier. i860. Old Age. 273 "AT EVENING THERE SHALL BE LIGHT." OUR pathway oft is wet with tears, Our fky with clouds o'ercaft, And worldly cares and worldly fears Go with us to the laft ; — Not to the laft ! God's word hath said, Could we but read aright : O pilgrim! lift in hope thy head, At eve it fliall be light ! Though earth-born fnadows now may fhroud Our toilsome path awhile, God's blefled word can part each cloud, And bid the sunfhine smile. If we but truft in living faith, His love and power divine, Then, though our sun may set in death, His light fliall round us fhine. When tempeft-clouds are dark on high. His bow of love and peace Shines beauteous in the vaulted fky, A pledge that ftorms fhall cease. 18 274 Old Age. Then keep we on, with hope unchilled, By faith and not by fight, And we (hall own His word fulfilled, — At eve it (hall be light ! Bernard Barton. GRACIOUS Source of every bleffing ! Guard our breafts from anxious fears ; Let us each, thy care poflefling, Sink into the vale of years. All our hopes on thee reclining, Peace companion of our way, May our sun, in smiles declining. Rise in everlafting day. DEATH EVENING LIGHT. BEHOLD the weftern evening light! It melts in deepening gloom : So calmly Chriftians fink away, Descending to the tomb. The winds breathe low ; the withering leaf Scarce whispers from the tree : So gently flows the parting breath, When good men cease to be. How beautiful on all the hills The crimson light is fhed ! 'T is like the peace the Chriftian gives To mourners round his bed. How mildly on the wandering cloud The sunset beam is caft ! 'T is like the memory left behind, When loved ones breathe their lad. 276 Death. And now above the dews of night The vesper-ftar appears : So faith springs in the heart of those Whose eyes are bathed in tears. But soon the morning's happier light Its glory fhall reftore, And eyelids that are sealed in death Shall wake to close no more. IV. B. O. Peabody. 184O. IN VIEW OF DEATH. THE hour, the hour, the parting hour, That takes from this dark world its power, And lays at once the thorn and flower On the same withering bier, my soul ! The hour that ends all earthly ^woes. And gives the wearied soul repose, — How soft, how sweet, that laft long close Of mortal hope and fear, my soul ! How sweet, while on this broken lyre The melodies of time expire. To feel it ftruno; with chords of fire To praise the Immortal One, my soul ! Death. And while our farewell tears we pour To those we leave on this cold fhore, To feel that we {hall weep no more. Nor dwell in heaven alone, my soul ! How sweet, while, waning faft away, The rtars of this dim world decay. To hail, prophetic of the day, The golden dawn above, my soul ! To feel we only deep to rise In sunnier lands and fairer fkies. To bind again our broken ties In ever-living love, my soul ! 277 The hour, the hour, so pure and calm. That bathes the wounded soul in balm. And round the pale brow twines the palm That fhuns this wintry clime, my soul ! The hour that draws o'er earth and all Its briers and blooms the mortal pall, — How soft, how sweet, that evening-fall Of fears, and grief, and time, my soul ! 278 Death. TIME AND ETERNITY. IT is not time that flies ; 'T is we, 't is we are flying : It is not Life that dies ; 'T is we, 't is we are dying. Time and eternity are one ; Time is eternity begun : Life changes, yet without decay ; 'T is we alone who pass away. It is not Truth that flies ; 'T is we, 't is we are flying : It is not Faith that dies ; 'T is we, 't is we are dying. O ever-during faith and truth. Whose youth is age, whose age is youth ! Twin ftars of immortality, Ye cannot perifh from our fky. It is not Hope that flies ; 'T is we, 't is we are flying : It is not Love that dies ; 'T is we, 't is we are dying. Twin ftreams, that have in heaven your birth, Ye Aide in gentle joy through earth. Death. 279 We fade, like flowers befide you sown ; Ye are llill flowing, flowing on. Yet we but die to live ; It is from death we 're flying : Forever lives our life ; For us there is no dying. We die but as the spring-bud dies. In summer's golden glow to rise. These be our days of April bloom ; Our July is beyond the tomb. H. Bonar. 1856. ON THE THRESHOLD. I'M returning, not departing ; My fteps are homeward bound. I quit the land of Arrangers For a home on native ground. I am rifing, and not setting ; This is not night, but day. Not in darkness, but in sunfliine, Like a ftar, I fade away. All is well with me forever, I do not fear to go. 28o Death. My tide is but beginning Its bright eternal flow. I am leaving only fhadows, For the true and fair and good, I muft not, cannot linger ; I would not, though I could. This is not death's dark portal, 'T is life's golden gate to me. Link after link is broken. And I at laft am free. I am going to the angels, I am going to my God 5 I know the hand that beckons, I see the holy road. Why grieve me with your weeping. Your tears are all in vain ; An hour's farewell, beloved. And we ihall meet again. Jesus, thou wilt receive me. And welcome me above ; This sunfhine which now fills me Is thine own smile of love. H. Bonar 1856. Death, 281 THE DEAD. THOU God of Love ! beneath thy fheltering wings We leave our holy dead, To reft in hope ! From this world's sufferings Their souls have fled ! O, when our souls are burdened with the weight Of life, and all its woes. Let us remember them, and calmly wait For our life's close ! Anon. FRIEND after friend departs ; Who hath not loft a friend ? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our only reft, Living or dying, none were bleft. Beyond the flight of time, Beyond this vale of death. There surely is some bleffed clime. Where life is not a breath. 282 Death. Nor life's affections tranfient fire, Whose sparks fly upwards to expire. There is a world above, Where parting is unknown ; A whole eternity of love, P'ormed for the good alone : And faith beholds the dying here Tranflated to that happier sphere. Thus ftar by ftar declines Till we are pafTed away, As morning high and higher (hines To pure and perfe6t day ; Nor fink those ftars in empty night ; They hide themselves in heaven's own light. 'James Montgomery. 1824. OUR SAINTS. FROM the eternal fhadow rounding All unsure and fl:arlight here. Voices of our loft ones sounding, Bid us be of heart and cheer, Through the filence, down the spaces, falling on the in- ward ear. Death. 283 Know we not our dead are looking Downward, as in sad surprise, All our ftrife of words rebuking With their mild and earned eyes ? Shall we grieve the holy angels, fhall we cloud their blefled fkies ? Let us draw their mantles o'er us, Which have fallen in our way: Let us do the work before us Calmly, bravely, while we may. Ere the long night-filence cometh, and with us it is not day ! J. G. JVhittier. i860. THE CLOUD ON THE WAY. SEE, before us in our journey broods a mift upon the ground ; Thither leads the path we walk in, blending with that gloomy bound. Never eye hath pierced its fhadows to the myfterv they screen, Those who once have paffed within it nevermore on earth are seen. 284 Death. Now it seems to ftop bcfide us, now at seeming distance lowers, Leaving banks that tempt us onward bright with sum- mer green and flowers. Yet it blots the way forever ; there our journey ends at laft; Into that dark cloud we enter, and are gathered to the paft. Thou who in this flinty pathway, leading through a ftranger land, PalTeft down the rocky valley, walking with me hand in hand, Which of us fhall be the soonert folded to that dim Unknown, Which fhall leave the other walking in this flmty path alone ? Even now I see thee fhudder, and thy cheek is white with fear, And thou clingeft to my fide as that dark mlft comes sweeping near. " Here," thou sayft, "the path is rugged, sown with thorns that wound the feet ; But the {heltered glens are lovely, and the rivulet's song is sweet ; Roses breathe from tangled thickets ; lilies bend from ledges brown ; Pleasantly between the pelting fhowers the sunfhine gufties down. Far be yet the hour that takes me where that chillv fhadow lies, Death. 285 From the things I know and love, and from the fight of loving eyes." So thou murmureft, fearful one, but see, we tread a rougher wav ; Fainter grow the gleams of sunfhine that upon the dark rocks play ; Rude winds ftrew the faded flowers upon the crags o'er which we pass ; Banks of verdure, when we reach them, hiss with tufts of withered grass. Yet upon the miit before us fix thine eyes with closer view J See, beneath its sullen fkirts, the rosy morning glimmers through. One, whose feet the thorns have wounded, entered and came back, With a glory on his footfteps lighting yet the dreary track. Boldlv enter where he entered ; all that seems but dark- ness here. When thou once haft paft beyond it, haply fl:iall be cryftal clear. Seen from that serener realm, the walks of human life mav lie Like the page of some familiar \olume open to mine eve. Haply from the o'erhanging fhadow thou mayft ftretch an unseen hand. To support the wavering fteps that print with blood the ruesed land. 286 Death. Haply, leaning o'er the pilgrim all unweeting thou art near, Thou mayft whisper words of warning or of comfort in his ear. Till, beyond the border where that brooding myfterv bars the fight, Those whom thou haft: fondly cherifhed fl:and with thee in peace and light. Wm. C. Bryant. i860. O SPIRIT, freed from earth, Rejoice thy work is done ! The weary world 's beneath thy feet. Thou brighter than the sun. Arise, put on the robes That the redeemed win ; Now sorrow hath no part in thee. Thou sanctified within ! Awake, and breathe the air Of the celeftial clime ! Awake to love which knows no change. Thou who haft done with time ! Death. 287 Awake, lift up thine eyes ! See, all heaven's hoft appears ! And be thou glad exceedingly, — Thou who haft done with tears. Ascend ! thou art not now With those of mortal birth ; The living God hath touched thy lips, Thou who haft done with earth ! Mrs. Hoiuitt. i860. HEAVEN THE NEW SONG. BEYOND the hills where suns go down, And brightly beckon as they go, I see the land of far renown. The land which I so soon fhall know. Above the diflbnance of time, And discord of its angry words, I hear the everlafting chime. The mufic of unjarring chords. I bid it welcome ; and my hafte To join it cannot brook delay ; — O song of morning, come at laft, And ye who fing it, come away ! O song of light and dawn and bliss, Sound over earth, and fill these fkies, Nor ever, ever, ever cease Thy soul-entrancing melodies ! Heaven. 289 Glad song of this disburdened earth, Which holy voices then fhall fing : Praise for creation's second birth, And glory to creation's King ! H. Bonar. 1856. THE OTHER WORLD. IT lies around us like a cloud, — A world we do not see ; Yet the sweet clofing of an eye May bring us there to be. Its gentle breezes fan our cheek ; Amid our worldly cares Its gentle voices whisper love. And mingle with our prayers. Sweet hearts around us throb and beat, Sweet helping hands are ftirred. And palpitates the veil between With breathings almoft heard. The filence — awful, sweet, and calm — They have no power to break ; For mortal words are not for them To utter or partake. 19 290 Heaven. So thin, so soft, so sweet they ghde, So near to press they seem, — They seem to lull us to our reft, And melt into our dream. And in the hufh of reft: they bring 'T is easy now to see How lovely and how sweet a pass The hour of death may be. To close the eye, and close the ear. Wrapped in a trance of bliss. And gently dream in loving arms To swoon to that — from this. Scarce knowing if we wake or fleep. Scarce afking where we are. To feel all evil fink away. All sorrow and all care. Sweet souls around us ! watch us ftill. Press nearer to our fide. Into our thoughts, into our prayers. With gentle helpings glide. Let death between us be as naught, A dried and vaniftied ftream : Your joy be the realitv, Our suffering life the dream. Mrs. H. B. Stou'e. i860. Heaven. 291 FOREVER with the Lord! Amen ! so let it be ! Life from the dead is in that word, And immortality. Here in the body pent, Absent from Him I roam. Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home. My Father's house on high. Home of mv soul ! how near. At times, to faith's foreseeing eye Thy golden gates appear ! Ah ! then my spirit faints To reach the land I love, The bright inheritance of saints, Jerusalem above ! Yet clouds will intervene. And all my prospe£l flies ; Like Noah's dove, I flit between Rough seas and ftormy fkies. 292 Heaven. Anon the clouds depart, The winds and waters cease ; While sweetly o'er my gladdened heart Expands the bow of peace ! Beneath its glowing arch, Along the hallowed ground, I see cherubic armies march, A camp of fire around. I hear at morn and even. At noon and midnight hour, The choral harmonies of heaven Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower. Then, then I feel, that He, Remembered or forgot, The Lord is never far from me, Though I perceive Him not. " Forever with the Lord ! " Father, if 't is thy will. The promise of that gracious word, E'en here, to me fulfil. Be thou at my right hand. Then fhall I never fail ; Uphold me, and I needs muft ftand ; Fight, and I fliall prevail. Heaven. 293 So, when my lateft breath Shall rend the veil in twain, Bv death I fliall escape from death, And life eternal gain. Knowing as I am known. How fliall I love that word. And oft repeat before the throne, " Forever with the Lord ! " y. Mofitgomery. 1853. THERE is a land of pure delight. Where saints immortal reign ; Infinite day excludes the night. And pleasures banifh pain. There everlafling spring abides. And never withering flowers ; Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours. Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood Stand drefl^ed in living green : So to the Jews old Canaan ftood. While Jordan rolled between. 294 Heaven. But timorous mortals ftart and (brink To cross this narrow sea, And linger ftiivering on the brink, And fear to launch away. O, could we make our doubts remove. These gloomy doubts that rise, And see the Canaan that we love With unbeclouded eyes, — Could we but climb where Moses ftood. And view the landscape o'er, — Not Jordan's ftream, nor death's cold flood, Should fright us from the fhore. Isaac JFatts. 1674- 1748. THE SURPASSING GLORY OF GOD. SINCE o'er thv footflool here below Such radiant gems are ftrown, O, what magnificence niuft glow, Great God, about Thy throne ! So brilliant here these drops of light, — There the full ocean rolls — how bright! Heaven. 295 If night's blue curtain of the fky — With thousand rtars inwrought, Hung like a roval canopy With ghttering diamonds fraught — Be, Lord, thy temple's outer veil. What splendor at the flirine muft dwell ! The dazzling sun at noonday hour — - Forth from his flaming vase Flinging o'er earth the golden Oiower Till vale and mountain blaze — But fhows, O Lord, one beam of Thine : What, then, the day where Thou doft fhine ! O, how {hall these dim eyes endure That noon of living rays ! Or how our spirits, so impure, Upon Thy glory gaze ! Anoint, O Lord, anoint our fight, And fit us for that world of lig-ht. HEAVEN. BEYOND these chilling winds and gloomy flcies, — Beyond death's cloudv portal, — There is a land where beauty never dies, And love becomes immortal, — 296 Heaven. A land whose light is never dimmed by {hade, Whose fields are ever vernal, Where nothing beautiful can ever fade, But bloom for aye eternal. We may not know how sweet its balmy air, How bright and fair its flowers ; We may not hear the songs that echo there. Through those enchanted bowers. The city's fhining towers we may not see With our dim earthly vifion ; For death, the filent warder, keeps the key That opes these gates elyfian. But sometimes, when adown the weftern fky The fiery sunset lingers. Its golden gates swing inward noiseleffly, Unlocked by filent fingers. And while they ftand a moment half ajar. Gleams from the inner glory Stream brightly through the azure vault afar. And half reveal the ftory. O land unknown ! O land of love divine ! Father all wise, eternal. Guide, guide these wandering, way-worn feet of mine Into those paftures vernal. Miss N. A. W. Prieji. i860. Heaven. IC)"] Matthew v. 3-10. THERE is a dwelling-place above ; Thither, to meet the God of love, The poor in spirit go : There is a paradise of reft ; For contrite hearts and souls diftreft Its ftreams of comfort flow. There is a goodly heritage, Where earthly paflions cease to rage ; The meek that haven gain : There is a board, where they who pine, Hungry, athirft, for grace divine, Mav feaft, nor crave again. There is a voice to mercy true ; To them who mercy's path pursue That voice fhall bliss impart : There is a fight from man concealed ; That fight, the face of God revealed, Shall bless the pure in heart. There is a name, in heaven beftowed ; That name, which hails them sons of God, The friends of peace fhall know : 298 Heaven. There is a kingdom in the fky. Where they ftiall reign with God on high, Who serve Him heft below. Lord! be it mine like them to choose The better part, like them to use The means Thy love hath given Be holiness my aim on earth. That death be welcomed as a birth To life and bliss in Heaven ! Bijhop R. Mant. 1831, THE CITY OF REST. " And the name of that city is reft." O BIRDS from out the eaft, O birds from out the weft. Have ye found that happy city in all your weary queft .'' Tell me, tell me, from earth's wandering may the heart find glad surcease. Can ye fhow me as an earneft any olive-branch of peace ^ I am weary of life's troubles, of its fin and toil and care ; I am faithless, cruftiing in my heart so many a fruitless prayer. Heaveji. 2()g O birds from out the eaft, O birds from out the weft, Can ye tell me of that city the name of which is Relt ? Sav, doth a dreamy atmosphere that bleficd city crown ? Are there couches spread for fleeping softer than the eider-down ? Does the filver sound of waters, falling 'twixt its marble walls, Hufh its solemn filence even into ftiller intervals ? Doth the poppy fhed its influence there, or doth the fabled moly With its leafy-laden Lethe lade the eyes with flumber holy? Do they never wake to sorrow, who, after toilsome queft. Have entered in that city, the name of which is Reft ? Doth the fancy wile not there for aye ? Is the reftless soul's endeavor Hullied in a rhythm of solemn calm, forever and forever? Are human natures satisfied of their intense defire ? Is there no more good beyond to seek, or do they not aspire ? But weary, weary of the ore within its yellow sun, Do they lie and eat its lotus-leaves and dream life's toil is done ? O tell me, do they there forget what here hath made them bleft. Nor figh again for home and friends, in the city named Reft^? 300 Heaixen. O little birds, fly eaft again, — O little birds, fly weft; Ye have found no happy city in all your weary queft. Still fliall ye find no spot of reft wherever ye may ftray. And ftill like you the human soul muft wing its weary way. There fleepeth no such city within the wide earth's bound. Nor hath the dreaming fancy yet its blissful portals found. We are but children crying here upon a mother's breaft. For life and peace and blefl^edness, and for eternal Reft ! Bless God, I hear a ftill small voice, above life's clam- orous din. Saying, Faint not, O weary one, thou yet mayft enter in ; That city is prepared for those who well do win the fight. Who tread the wine-press till its blood hath waftied their garments white. Within it is no darkness, nor any baleful flower Shall there oppress thy weeping eyes with stupefying power. It lieth calm within the light of God's peace-giving breaft, Its walls are called Salvation, the city's name is Reft ! Household Words. Heaven. 301 HOW LONG ? MY God, it is not faithleflhess That makes me say, " How long ? " It is not heaviness of heart That hinders me in song ; 'T is not despair of truth and right, Nor coward dread of wrong. But how can I with such a hope Of glory and of home, With such a joy before my eyes. Not wifh the time were come. Of years the jubilee, — of days The Sabbath and the sum ! These years, what ages haye they been ! This life, how long it seems ! And how can I, in evil days, 'Mid unknown hills and ftreams. But figh for those of home and heart, And xifit them in dreams? Yet peace, my heart, and hufh, my tongue ; Be calm, my troubled breaft ; Each hurrying hour is haftening on The everlafting reft ; 302 Heaven. Thou knoweft that the time thy God Appoints for thee is beft. Let faith, not fear nor fretfuhiess, Awaice the cry, " How long ? " Let no faint-heartedness of soul Damp thy aspiring song ; Right comes, truth dawns, and night departs Of error and of wrong. The Cross-Bearer THE CITY OF GOD. IN Thee my powers, my treasures live, To Thee my life muft tend ; Giving Thyself, Thou all doft give, O soul-sufficing Friend ! And wherefore fliould I seek above. The City in the fky.? Since firm in faith, and deep in love, Its broad foundations lie ? Since in a life of peace and prayer, Nor known on earth nor praised. By humbled: toil, by ceaseless care. Its holy towers are raised ? Ht'i 303 Where pain the soul hath purified, And penitence hath fhriven, And truth is crowned and glorified, There — only there — is heaven! Eliza Scudder. 1858. SUNDAY SUNDAY MORNING. HOW sweet, how calm this Sabbath morn How pure the air that breathes. And soft the sounds upon it borne. And Hght its vapor wreaths ! It seems as if the Chriftian's prayer, For peace and joy and love. Were answered by the very air That wafts its ftrain above. Let each unholy paflion cease. Each evil thought be cruftied, Each anxious care that mars thy peace In faith and love be hulhed. Sunday. 305 THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL. SLEEP, fleep to-day, tormenting cares, Of earth and folly born ; Ye fliall not dim the light that ftreams From this celeftial morn. To-morrow will be time enough o To feel your harfli control ; Ye (hall not violate, this day. The Sabbath of my soul. Sleep, fleep forever, guilty thoughts ; Let fires of vengeance die ; And, purged from fin, may I behold A God of purity ! Mrs. Barhauld. 1 825. A HYMN FOR THE SABBATH. ODAY of reft and gladness, O day of joy and light, O balm of care and sadness, Moft beautiful, moft bright ; 306 Sunday. On thee, the high and lowly, Bending before the Throne, Sing Holy^ Holy^ Holy^ To the Great Three in One. On thee, at the creation, The light firft had its birth ; On thee for our salvation Chrift rose from depths of earth •, On thee our Lord vi6lorious The Spirit sent from Heaven, And thus on thee moft glorious A triple Light was given. Thou art a port protected From ftorms that round us rise ; A garden intersected With ftreams of Paradise ; Thou art a cooling fountain In life's dry, dreary sand ; From thee, like Pisgah's mountain. We view our Promised Land. Thou art a holy ladder. Where angels go and come ; Each Sunday finds us gladder, Nearer to heaven, our home ; A day of sweet reflection. Thou art a day of love ; A day of resurrection From earth to things above. Sunday. 307 To-day on weary nations The heavenly manna falls ; To holy convocations The filver trumpet calls, Where Gospel-light is glowing With pure and radiant beams, And livino; water flovvino; With soul-refrefliing ftreams. New graces ever gaining From this our day of reft, We reach the reft remaining To spirits of the bleft ; To Holy Ghoft be praises. To Father and to Son ; The Church her voice upraises, To Thee, bleft Three in One. Rev. Dr. Wordsworth. 1858. THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. WE bless Thee for this sacred dav, Thou who haft every blefling given. Which sends the dreams of earth away. And yields a glimpse of opening heaven. 308 Sunday. Rich day of holy, thoughtful reft ! May we improve thy calm repose, And, in God's service truly bleft, Forget the world, its joys and woes. Lord ! may thy truth upon the heart Now fall and dwell as heavenly dew. And flowers of grace in frefliness ftart Where once the weeds of error grew. May prayer now lift her sacred wings, Contented with that aim alone Which bears her to the King of kings, And refts her at his fhelteririg throne. Mrs. C. Gilman. 1848. THE LORD'S DAY. OTIME of tranquil joy and holy feeling ! When over earth God's Spirit from above Spreads out His wings of love ; When sacred thoughts, like angels, come appealing To our tent doors -, O eve, to earth and heaven The sweeteft of the seven ! Sunday. 309 How peaceful are thy fkies ! thv air is clearer, As on the advent of a gracious time : The sweetness of its prime BlefTeth the world, and Eden's days seem nearer: I hear, in each faint ftirring of the breeze, God's voice among the trees. O, while thv hallowed moments are diflilling Their frefher influence on my heart like dews. The chamber where I muse Turns to a temple ! He whose converse thrilling Honored Emmaus, that old eventide. Comes sudden to my fide. 'T is light at evening time when Thou art present; Thy coming to the eleven in that dim room Brightened, O Chrift ! its gloom : So bless mv lonely hour that memories pleasant Around the time a heavenly gleam may caft. Which many davs fhall laft ! Raise each low aim, refine each high emotion. That with more ardent footftep I may press Toward Thy holiness ; And, braced for sacred duty by devotion. Support my cross along that rugged road Which Thou haft sometime trod ! I long to see Thee, for my heart is wearv : O when, mv Lord ! in kindness wilt Thou come To call Thv baniflied home ? 310 Sunday. The scenes are cheerless, and the days are dreary ; From sorrow and from fin I would be free, And evermore with Thee ! Even now I see the golden city fhining Up the blue depths of that transparent air : How happy all is there ! There breaks a day which never knows declining ; A Sabbath, through whose circling hours the bleft Beneath Thy fliadow reft ! J. D. Burns. 1855. THE PRISONER OF THE LORD. A Sabbath Hymn for a Sick-Chamber. THOUSANDS, O Lord of Hofts ! this day Around Thine altar meet ; And tens of thousands throng to pay Their homage at Thy feet. They see Thy power and glory there As I have seen them too ; They read, they hear, they join in prayer. As I was wont to do. Sunday. They fmg Thy deeds as I have sung, In sweet and solemn lays ; Were I among them, my glad tongue Might learn new themes of praise. For Thou art in their midft, to tqach ■ When on Thy name they call; And Thou haft bleflings. Lord, for each. Haft bleflings, Lord, for all. I, of such fellowfhip bereft. In spirit turn to Thee ; O, haft Thou not a blefling left, A blefling, Lord, for me ? The dew lies thick on all the ground, — Shall my poor fleece be dry ? The manna rains from heaven around, — Shall I of hunger die ? Behold Thv prisoner ; — loose my bands If 't is Thy gracious will ; If not — contented in Thy hands. Behold Thy prisoner ftill ! 311 I may not to Thy courts repair. Yet here Thou surely art ; Lord, consecrate a house of prayer In mv surrendered heart. 312 Sunday. To faith reveal the things unseen, To hope the joys untold ; Let love without a veil between Thy glory now behold. O make Thy face on me to fhine, That doubt and fear may cease ; Lift up Thy countenance benign On me — and give me peace. "James Montgo^nery. 1803-1853. SUNDAY. WHEN the worn spirit wants repose, And fighs her God to seek. How sweet to hail the evening's close, That ends the weary week ! How sweet to hail the early dawn. That opens on the fight, When firft that soul-reviving morn Sheds forth new ra\s of light ! Sweet day ! thine hours too soon will cease ; Yet, while they gently roll, Breathe, Heavenly Spirit, source of peace, A Sabbath o'er my soul ! Sunday. 313 When will mv pilgrimage be done, The world's long week be o'er, That Sabbath dawn which needs no sun, That day, which fades no more ? James Edmejhn. 18 20. A SUNDAY HYMN. LORD of all being ! throned afar, Thy glory flames from sun and ftar ; Centre and soul of every sphere. Yet to each loving heart how near ! Sun of our life, thy \^'akening ray Sheds on our path the glow of day ; Star of our hope, thy softened light Cheers the lono- watches of the night. Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; Our rainbow arch, thy mercy's fign ; All, save the clouds of fin, are thine ! Lord of all life, below, above, Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, Before thy ever-blazing throne We afk no luftre of our own. ~ 3H Sunday. Grant us thy truth to make us free, And kindling hearts that burn for thee, Till all thy living altars claim One holy light, one heavenly flame ! Dr. 0. IV. Holmes. i860. OF THE INCOMPARABLE TREASURE OF THE SCRIPTURES. HOLY T T ERE is the spring where waters fl owe. i 1 To quench our heate of finne ; Here is the tree where trueth doth grow t To lead our lives therein ; Here is the Judge that Itints the ftrife. Where men's devices faille ; Here is the bread that feedes the life That death cannot aflaile ; The tidings of salvation deare Come to our eares from hence ; The fortress of our faith is here. Ar id fhielde of our defence. Ther be not like the hogge that hath A pearle at his defire. And takes more pleasure in the trough. Ar id wallowing in the mire ; Sunday. VS Reade not this booke in any case But with a Tingle eve ; Read not but firlt defire God's grace l^o vnderftand thereby ; Prav ftill in faith with this respe6l, To fru6lifie therein, That knowledge may bring this effect To mortify thv finne. Then happie thou in all thy life, What so to thee befalles ; Yea, double happie fhalt thou be When God by death thee calles. From Barker's Bible. 1594- THE ONE CHURCH. OUTSIDE THE CHURCH. I STAND without here in the porch, I hear the bell's melodious din, I hear the organ peal within, I hear the prayer with words that scorch Like sparks from an inverted torch, I hear the sermon upon fin. With threatenings of the laft account. And all, tranflated in the air. Reach me but as our dear Lord's prayer. And as the Sermon on the Mount. Muft it be Calvin, and not Chrift? Muft it be Athanafian creeds. Or holy water, books, and beads ? Muft ftruggling souls remain content With councils and decrees of Trent ? And can it be enough for these The Chriftian Church the year embalms With evergreens and boughs of palms. And fills the air with litanies ? The One Church. 317 I know that yonder Pharisee Thanks God that he is not like me ; In my humiliation drefl'ed, I only ftand and beat my breaft, And pray for human charity. Not to one church alone, but seven, The voice prophetic spake from heaven ; And unto each the promise came, Diverfified, but ftill the same; For him that overcometh are The new names written on the ftone. The raiment white, the crown, the throne. And I will give him the Morning Star ! Ah ! to how many Faith has been No evidence of things unseen. But a dim fhadow that recalls The creed of the Phantafiafts, For whom no Man of Sorrows died, For whom the Tragedy Divine Was but a svmbol and a fign, And Chrift a phantom crucified ! For others a di\'iner creed Is living in the life they lead. The paffing of their beautiful feet Bleffes the pavement of the ftreet. And all their looks and words repeat Old Fuller's saying, wise and sweet, 71 8 The One Church, Not as a vulture, but a dove, The Holy Ghoft came from above. H. IV. Longfellow. 1863. FICUS RELIGIOSA. THE Banyan of the Indian ifle Spreads deeply down its maflive root. And spreads its branching life abroad, And bends to earth, with scarlet fruit ; But when the branches reach the ground, They firmly plant themselves again : They rise and spread and droop and root, An ever green and endless chain. And so the Church of Jesus Chrift, The blefled Banyan of our God, Faft-rooted upon Zion's mount. Has sent its flieltering arms abroad ; And every branch that from it springs. In sacred beauty spreading wide. As low it bends to bless the earth, Still plants another by its fide. Long as the world itself (hall laft. The sacred Banyan ftill (liall spread. The One Church. 319 From clime to clime, from age to age, Its flieltering fhadow fhall be fhed. Nations fhall seek its pillared fhade, Its leaves (hall for their healing be : The circling flood that feeds its life, The blood that crimsoned Calvary. ONE IN CHRIST. ONE baptism and one faith. One Lord below, above, The fellowfhip of Zion hath One only watchword, — Love. From different temples though it rise. One song ascendeth to the fkies. Our sacrifice is One ; One prieft before the throne, — The crucified, the risen Son, Redeemer, Lord alone ! And fighs from contrite hearts that spring. Our chief, our choiceft offering. O why fhould they who love One Gospel to unfold, Who look for one bright home above. On earth be ftrano-e and cold ? 320 The One Church. Why, subjeds of the Prince of Peace, In ftrife abide, and bitterness ? O may that holy prayer — His tenderefb and His laft, The utterance of His lateft care Ere to His throne He pafled — No longer unfulfilled remain, The world's offence, the people's ftain ! Head of Thy Church beneath. The Catholic, — the true, — On her disjointed members breathe, Her broken frame renew ! Then {hall Thy perfect: will be done When Chriftians love and live as one. E. Robinson. ALL-SEEING God ! 't is Thine to know The springs whence wrong opinions flow ; To judge, from principles within. When frailty errs, and when we fin. Who among men, great Lord of all. Thy servant to his bar fhall call ? Judge him, for modes of faith, thy foe. And doom him to the realms of woe ? The One Church. 321 Who with another's eve can read ? Or vvorfliip by another's creed ? Trufting thy grace, we form our own, And bow to thy commands alone. If wrong, correcft ; accept, if right ; While faithful, we impro\'e our light, Condemning none, but zealous ftill To learn and follow all thy will. Scott. DEDICATION HYMN. ONE Father, God, we own ; One Spirit evermore j One Chrift, with manger, cross, and throne, The Light, the Way, the Door. In souls we hail his birth ; 'T is now he comes again ; His kingdom is the convert Earth, His Church all faithful men. The Scriptures thus we read ; Of ftrangeft powers compiled. To mould the heart and clear the creed Of earth's frail, clouded child. 322 The One Church. Its eflence, not its writ, Our sovereign rule we call ; Not faftening down all truth to it, But widening it to all. With this free reverence. Lord, In Chriftly church eftate, With earned, brotherly accord, These walls we dedicate To prayer and holy thought ; Affe6lions set above ; To faiths from higheft fountains brought. And works of wideft love. Thy presence, Father, make The refuge and supply ; And for thy Truth and Mercy's sake Build on, and sanctify. Dr. N. L. Frothhigham. 1863. THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. ONE holy Church of God appears Through every age and race, Unwafted by the lapse of years, Unchanged by changing place. The One Church. 323 From oldcft time, on fartheft shores, Beneath the pine or pahn, One Unseen Presence flie adores, With filence or with psalm. Her priefts are all God's faithful sons To serve the world raised up ; The pure in heart her baptized ones, Love her communion cup, he truth is her prophetic gift. The soul her sacred page ; And feet on mercy's errands swift Do make her pilgrimage. O living Church ! thine errand speed ; Fulfil thy tafk sublime ; With bread of life Earth's hunger feed ; Redeem the evil time ! Rev. S. Longfellow. 1863, LIFE OF AGES. LIFE of Ages, richly poured. Love of God, unspent and free, Flowing in the Prophet's word And the People's liberty ! 324 T^he One Church. Never was to chosen race That unftinted tide confined ; Thine is every time and place, Fountain sweet of heart and mind \ Secret of the morning flars, Motion of the oldeft hours, Pledge through elemental wars Of the coming spirit's powers ! Breathing in the thinker's creed, Pulfing in the hero's blood, Nerving fimplefl: thought and deed, Frefliening time with truth and good, Consecrating art and song. Holy book and pilgrim track, Hurling floods of tyrant wrong From the sacred limits back, — Life of Ages, richly poured. Love of God, unspent and free. Flow ftill in the Prophet's word And the People's liberty ! ^^•i;. S. Johnson. 1863. INDEX TO FIRST LINES. Ah I why (hould bitter tears be flied A Httle bird I am ..... All-seeing God ! "t is Thine to know Almighty Former of this wondrous plan And is there nothing to be done A poor wayfaring Man of grief . Are we not nobles ? We who trace . Arise ! this day shall shine .... A safe ftronghold our God is flill As body when the soul has fled As, douTi in the sunless retreats of the ocean A soldier's course, from battles won As ftrangers, — glad for this good inn Author of good, to Thee we turn A voice from the desert comes awful and flirill Awake, my soul, awake to prayer Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes Page 55 182 320 197 153 218 140 37 16 155 240 27 138 132 20 126 257 Before Jehovah's awful throne Begin the day with God .... Behold the weftern evening light . Be not afaid to pray, — to pray is right Beyond the hills where suns go down . Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy flcies Bowed 'neath the load of human ill 146 105 275 80 288 295 93 326 Index to F'lrji Lines. Calm me, my God, and keep me calm . . . . . . 221 Carry me across !.......... 8 Chrift, whose glory fills the flcies ....... 109 Cling to the Mighty One ......... 169 Come, Holy Spirit! from the height . . . . . . 177 Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove . . . . . . .175 Come, let us pray : 't is sweet to feel ...... 85 Come, mighty Spirit, penetrate . . . . . . .176 Come ! said Jesus' sacred voice ....... 57 Come unto me, when fhadows darkly gather ..... 256 Come, ye thankful people, come ....... 144 Dear Friend, whose presence in the house . . . . .180 Dear God, that watch doth keep . . . . . . . 112 Deem not that they are bleft alone ....... 63 Father, I call on Thee ........ 14 Father ! into Thy loving hands ....... 246 Father, when o'er our trembling hearts ..... 64 Flow on, thou Fountain of my joy . . . . . • -5' Forever ^vith the Lord . . . . . • . • 291 Friend after friend departs . . . . . • • .281 From lips divine, like healing balm ...... 35 From my lips in their defilement .....•• 97 From the eternal fliadow rounding ...... 282 Give to the winds thy fears . . . . . • • • '59 God doth not leave His own ....... 53 God moves in a myfterious way ....... 40 God of my childhood and my youth ...... 267 God's ways are not as our ways . . . . . • .198 Go not far from me, O my Strength ...... 206 Go to dark Gethsemane ......... 59 Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime . . . . . 18 Gracious Source of eveiy blefiing !....... 274 Gracious Spirit, dwell with me ....... 100 Had I a thousand hearts, I'd raise . . . . . . .210 Index to Firji Lines. 327 Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews . . . . 211 Hark ! the glad sound ! the Saviour comes . . . . . 1 66 Hath not thy heart wnthin thee burned ...... 223 Hear my prayer, O Heavenly Father 122 Here is the spring where waters Howe . .' . . . . 314 Here, sweetly forgetting and wholly forgot 189 He who himself and God would know 222 How bleft is he whose tranquil mind . ' . . . . . 270 How happy are the new-born race ...... 195 How meanly dwells the immortal mind ...... 248 How (halt thou bear the cross that now ..... 46 How sweet, how calm this Sabbath mom ...... 304 Humbly while my soul doth prove . . . . . 61 I am old and blind .......... 250 I and my house are ready. Lord ....... 107 I beg of you, I beg of you, my brothers loi I cannot find Thee ! Still on reftless pinion .... 158 If any be diftreffed, and fain would gather 83 I know not if or dark or bright ....... 235 I look to Thee in every need . . . . . . . .168 I love to fleal awhile away . . . . . . . . 117 I 'm returning, not departing 279 In the beginning was the Word 31 In Thee my powers, my treasures live 302 In the hour of my diflress ........ 95 In the flill filence of the voiceless night 130 I place an offering at Thy fhrine 190 Is this the way, my Father? 36 I ftand without here in the porch . . . . . . . 316 It came upon the midnight clear 29 It is not time that flies 278 It lies around us like a cloud 289 I was a wandering fheep ........ 172 Jesus, cafl a look on me . . . . . . . . -99 Jesus ! lover of my soul ........ 170 Jesus, the very thought is sweet ....... 167 Judge not ; the workings of his brain ...... 75 32^ Index to Firji Lines. iftant fliore Kingdoms and thrones to God belong Let dcepefl filence all around Let me count my treasures Life of Ages, richly poured . Long plunged in sorrow, I refign Lord, a happy child of Thine Lord of all being ! throned afar Lord, teach us how to pray aright Lord, the lights are gleaming from the Lord, Thou hafl given me a cell . Lord, many times I am a-weaiy quite Love conflitutes my crime . Love ! if thy deflined sacrifice am I . Men of thought ! be up and flirring .... Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord My God ! in life's mofl doubtful hour .... My God, in Thee all fulness lies .... My God ! is any hour so sweet ..... My God, it is not faithleffness ..... My God, my Father ! while I dray .... My God ! Thy boundless love I praise My God prote6ls ; my fears begone .... My God, whose gracious pity I may claim My heart is easy and my burden light .... My heart is reding, O my God .... My soul repeat His praise ...... Nearer, my God, to Thee No bird-song floated down the hill Not from the work appointed us to do Not on a prayerless bed O birds from out the caft. O day of reft and gladness . O fair-haired northern hero O for a closer walk with God O for a heart of calm rcj^ose O for the coming of the end II 226 135 323 192 123 82 264 136 147 184 186 23 5 89 236 86 301 74 212 238 45 189 203 143 200 271 231 78 298 306 17 148 224 32 Index to Firji Lines. 329 O happy soul that lives on high ....... 230 O help us, Lord ! each hour of need ...... 88 O Holy Father, juft and true . . . . . . . -19 O Israel, to thy tents repair ....... 25 O Lord ! how hapj^y is the time ....... 233 O Lord, turn not Thy face away 87 O Loved ! but not enough . . . . . . . .181 O -Shadow in a sultry land ........ 116 O sometimes gleams upon our fight ....... 2 O spirit, freed from earth ........ 286 O this is bleffmg, this is reft 205 O Thou great Friend to all the sons of men 33 O Thou who didfl deny to me ........ 66 O timely happy, timely wise ....... no O time of tranquil joy and holy feeling ...... 308 O to have dwelt in Bethlehem . . . . . . . 215 O'er the dark wave of Galilee ........ 58 One baptism, and one faith ........ 319 One Father, God, we own . . . . . . . -321 One holy Church of God appears ....... 322 One prayer I have, — all prayers in one ...... 103 One year ago, — a ringing voice ....... 38 Only waiting till the fliadows ........ 245 Open, Lord, mine inward ear ....... 225 Oppreffion fhall not always reign . . . . . . .21 Our God, our Father, with us flay ...... 28 Our God ! our God ! Thou fhineft here ...... i Our pathway oft is wet with tears . . . . . . 273 Out of the dark the circling sphere ....... 22 Peace ! Be ftill ! 42 Prisoners of hope ! be flrong, be bold ...... 26 Peace, troubled soul ' Thou needft not fear .... 241 Quiet, Lord, my froward heart ....... 229 Saviour! though my rebellious will ...... 152 See, before us in our journey ........ 283 Sickness is a school severe ........ 49 33° Index to Firji Lines. Since o'er Thy footftool here below ....... 294 Skies are dark and winds are moaning . . . . . 261 Sleep, fleep to-day, tormenting cares ...... 305 .Sometimes a light surprises ........ 162 Sow with a generous hand . . . . . . . .214 Star of morn and even . . . . . . . . . 131 .Strong are all the walls around me . . . . . . .183 Strong-souled Reformer, whose far-seeing failh .... 33 Sweet Saviour ! bless us ere we go . . . . . . .120 That myftic word of Thine, O sovereign 1 .ord .... 93 The Banyan of the Indian ifle . . . . . . . -318 The child leans on its parent's breaft ...... 228 The day is ended. Ere I fink to fleep . . . . . .122 The day of the Lord is at hand ....... 3 The foe behind, the deep before . . . . . . .12 The hour of my departure 's come ...... 269 The hour, the hour, the parting hour ...... 276 The Lord descended from above ....... 165 The Lord is King ! lift up thy voice . . . . . . .160 The Lord my paflure (hall prepare . . . . . . 213 The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed . . . . .81 The purple morning gilds the eaftern fkies . . . . . 113 Therefore, O friend ! I would not, if I might ..... 70 There is a dwelling-place above ....... 297 There is a land of pure delight ........ 293 There is a land where beauty cannot fade ..... 56 There is a light in yonder flcies . . . . . . .187 The seed mufl die before the corn appears ..... 69 These hairs of age are meffengers ....... 254 These years of life, — what do they seem ? . . . . . 266 The fliadows of the evening hours . . . . . . .118 The time for toil is pafl ........ 156 The weary day at length is pafl . . . . . . -US The world can neither give nor take . . . . . 237 The world is wise, for the world is old . . . . . .150 They talked of Jesus as they went . . . . . . 1 78 This did not once so trouble me ....... 149 Index to Firji Lines. 33' This gracious promise, Lord, fulfil Thou all-sufficient One ..... Thou art the Way ; and he who fighs . Though some good things of lower worth . Thou God of Love ! beneath thy (heltering wings Thou hidden Source of calm repose . Thou, long disowned, reviled, oppreft . Thousands, O Lord of Hofts I this day Through night to light ..... Thus saith God of His Anointed Thy will be done ! I will not fear 'T was in the watches of the night 9' 163 174 201 281 227 10 310 7« 13 104 129 We bless thee for this sacred day We see not, know not ; all our way . We will not weep ; for God is ftanding by us What ails my heart, that in my breafl What are these in bright array ? . When all Thy mercies, O my God . When darkness long has veiled my mind When gathering clouds around I view When God upheaved the pillared earth When in the vale of lengthened years When life's tempefluous florms are o'er When the worn spirit wants repose . While Thee I seek, protecfling Power . While toil and warfare urge us on our way Who, that a watcher doth remain Why shouldfl thou fludy in the month of June Without hafle ! without reft ! . . . With years oppreffed, with sorrow worn . Would you be young again ? . . . Yes, I will always love ; and, as I ought . Yes, thou mayft weep, for Jesus (hed . Your harps, ye trembling saints 307 6 54 124 48 142 73 262 239 265 268 312 90 133 67 241 76 252 255 191 43 258 c. :. 1^.^- ■z