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SONGS BY THE WAY. 
 
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PARISH CHURCH AND BEOTORY, 8T. JOHNS, C. B. 
 
SONGS BY THE WAY: 
 
 A. COLLECTION OF 
 
 ORIGINAL POEMS 
 
 FOR THE COMFORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT OF 
 
 Cjrrisiira i 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. H. F. DARNELL, 
 
 SECTOR Off ST. JOHNS, C.B., AND ACTING CHAPLAIN TO THE TKOOPS. 
 
 DEDICATED TO HIS PARISHIONERS. 
 
 " The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion \vith songs." 
 Isaiah xxxv. 10. 
 
 PRINTED BY JOHN LOVELL, ST. NICHOLAS STREET. 
 1862, 
 

 PEEFACB. 
 
 The Author presents this little volume to the public with 
 a prayer for the Divine blessing, without which it can never 
 be successful after the manner that he desires. He makes no 
 apology for its issue, inasmuch as he considers it a duty in 
 cumbent upon all, to serve their generation to the utmost of 
 their ability. Most of the poems were composed amid the 
 urgent and manifold duties which devolve upon a parish pas 
 tor : in some cases they were suggested by incidents which 
 presented themselves in the course of parochial visitation, 
 whilst in others they express the actual experience of the 
 writer. Should they, notwithstanding their defects, afford 
 those who peruse them half the pleasure and comfort which 
 he has himself experienced in their composition, he will be 
 perfectly satisfied. 
 
 The Author has ventured to dedicate this, his first work 
 published in Canada, to those who are nearest to his heart, 
 viz., his Parishioners in St. Johns. He sincerely hopes that 
 at least it may bring no discredit upon a community which 
 has manifested towards him the utmost kindness and cordia 
 lity ; and for which he has already learned to cherish senti 
 ments of such affectionate regard. 
 
 RECTORY, ST. JOHNS, C. E., 1862. 
 
 068 
 
INTBODUCTION. 
 
 " The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs." 
 Isaiah xxxv. 10. 
 
 How often does the weary traveller, returning homeward 
 from a distant country, love to beguile the solitude and tedium 
 of his journey with snatches of song ; which at once give 
 utterance to the feelings within his heart, and cheer and 
 stimulate his flagging spirits. The strains naturally vary 
 according to the different emotions which reign within his 
 breast. Whilst sinking under the fatigues of the way, and 
 far off from his destination, they are of a mingled, and chiefly 
 of a mournful character ; but, as he nears the home where 
 loving friends are waiting to welcome him with open arms, 
 they give expression solely to the joy and happiness which 
 fill his bosom. 
 
 Even so does the Christian pilgrim, as he treads the rugged 
 steep which leads to Zion, gather solace and encouragement 
 from song, in which he gives vent to the emotions strug 
 gling within him, and thus lightens the heavy load under 
 
 4 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which he bends. The burden of his song takes its complexion 
 from the condition of his soul, and from the ever-changing 
 circumstances by which he is surrounded. At the outset, he 
 mostly chooses such strains as excite his courage and devotion, 
 and rouse his dormant energies ; or else such as remind him 
 of the comforts, privileges, and helps placed within his reach. 
 In notes of praise and thanksgiving, he frequently has occa 
 sion to acknowledge the favor and protection of a beneficent 
 Father. In the hour of trial and weakness, in strains of 
 fervent " prayer and supplication, his requests are made known 
 unto God," and His aid is invoked. When his spirit passes 
 under the cloud, and is oppressed with a sense of sin and 
 spiritual darkness ; when he has experienced some crushing 
 calamity; or when he has committed the lifeless form of some 
 beloved friend to the silent dust ; he finds it an unspeaka 
 ble comfort, in suitable and touching strains, to give expres 
 sion to the feelings of humiliation, grief, despondency, hope, 
 and confidence, as they successively dominate within his 
 heart. But, as he advances on his upward way ; rises above 
 the cares of earth, and catches sight of the golden gates, his 
 songs become more joyful and triumphant ; till at last, as he 
 treads the golden streets of that heavenly city, and all its 
 glory bursts upon his view, no earthly strains can give utter 
 ance to the rapturous joy which fills his soul ; for nought but 
 an angel s harp and an angel s tongue can declare the unut 
 terable bliss of the accepted saint, as he stands in the pre 
 sence of his God and his Redeemer, one of that ever-blessed 
 band of whom the prophet speaks : " the ransomed of the 
 Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlast- 
 
 5 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ing joy upon their heads ; they shall obtain joy and gladness, 
 and sorrow and sighing shall flee away." 
 
 Permit me then, dear reader, as a fellow-pilgrim, bound for 
 the same celestial city, to touch my harp and sing my songs 
 within your hearing. You may be farther advanced than I 
 on the road to glory, and your spiritual experience is, I trust, 
 deeper and sweeter than mine ; you may oft be basking in 
 the sunbeams of the Divine presence, whilst I am yet but 
 struggling through the clouds and mists which float between 
 it and this lower world ; yet I am in hopes that the utter 
 ances of my heart may sometimes wake a response in yours, 
 and minister, in some slight degree, to your comfort and 
 encouragement. 
 
 Should I find one fellow-pilgrim in heaviness, and leave 
 him in peace ; should I find but one brother wandering, and 
 be enabled to lead him back again to the narrow way ; should 
 I find one fellow-sinner without a Saviour, and leave him 
 at the feet of Jesus ; neither they nor I will ever cease to re 
 joice that I fell in with them during their journey, and with 
 feeble hands and feebler voice, sang to them these Songs by 
 the Way. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 SONGS BY THE WAY. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 1. The Beaten Path, 11 
 
 2. The Walk with God, 13 
 
 3. Church Membership (in five parts) : 
 
 The Christian Covenant, * . 18 
 
 The Sabbath and its Services, 19 
 
 Confirmation, 20 
 
 The Lord s Supper, 22 
 
 Death, Burial, and Resurrection, 24 
 
 4. Earth-written Names, 26 
 
 5. I ll follow Thee, 28 
 
 6. Afloat, 29 
 
 7. Christian Friendship, 30 
 
 8. The Narrow Way, 31 
 
 9. Invitation to Early Piety, 33 
 
 10. Sabbath Morning Hymn, 34 
 
 11. Sabbath Evening Hymn, 36 
 
 12. Lord, teach us to pray, 37 
 
 13. The Ocean Sabbath, 39 
 
 14. A Child of the Kingdom, 41 
 
 15. The Woman that was a Sinner, 43 
 
 16. Flowers and Ears of Corn, 47 
 
 17. Faith, 49 
 
 7 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 18. Living Temples, 50 
 
 19. " Deliver us from evil," 53 
 
 20. Look to Jesus ! 54 
 
 21. The Christening of the First-born, 56 
 
 22. The Death of the First-born, 58 
 
 23. " Thy will be done," 61 
 
 24. In Memoriam, 62 
 
 25. " I will not leave you comfortless" 64 
 
 26. Elegy, 66 
 
 27. Life, 69 
 
 28. Sunset Reflections, TO 
 
 29. Things Beloved, 71 
 
 30. The Family Bible, 73 
 
 31. Incentives to Praise, 76 
 
 32. A Mother s Hymn, 77 
 
 33. Bochim, 78 
 
 34. No more Death, 81 
 
 35. The JEolian Harp, 84 
 
 36. The Coming Year, 86 
 
 37. Seed-time, 88 
 
 38. Seasons of Prayer, 91 
 
 39. Under the Snow, 93 
 
 40. In the Trough of the Sea, 95 
 
 41. " Bear ye one another s burdens," 98 
 
 42. My Church, 101 
 
 43. Smiles and Tears, 103 
 
 44. Heart Treasures, 104 
 
 45. The Proto-martyr, 106 
 
 46. Light in Darkness, 108 
 
 47. United Prayer, 112 
 
 48. Spiritual Longings, 116 
 
 49. Days that are gone, 118 
 
 8 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 50. The Old Man s God, 119 
 
 51. On to Glory ! 122 
 
 52. Homeward bound, 123 
 
 53. To-day and To-morrow, 125 
 
 54. Departing in peace, 127 
 
 55. Looking for the Evening, 129 
 
 56. Night and Morning, 131 
 
 57. Pisgah, 133 
 
 58. The Promised Land, 136 
 
 59. Is it well? .. .138 
 
 DETACHED POEMS. 
 
 1. The Widow of Nain, 143 
 
 2. The Work and the Workers, 151 
 
 3. The Death Signal, 157 
 
 4. The Emigrant s Departure, 159 
 
 (A Scene in Ulster, A. D. 1853.) 
 
 5. Chimes of the Sea, 162 
 
 6. Havelock s Grave, 166 
 
 7. Memorial of Macaulay, 170 
 
 8. On the Decease of the Prince Consort, 173 
 
 (A. D. 1861, .dET. 41.) 
 
 9. The Faithful Steward, 175 
 
 (Written in commemoration of Mr. George Peabody s parting 
 donation of 150,000 to the poor of London, in which city this 
 Christian-minded merchant amassed his vast fortune. The 
 donor was born inDanvers, Massachusetts, U.S., and in humble 
 circumstances.) 
 
 10. On visiting the tomb of the late Eev. J. B. Ob. A. D. 1855. 179 
 
 11. The Pioneers, 182 
 
 12. Inscription for a Time-piece, 186 
 
 9 
 
SONGS BY THE WAY. 
 
 THE BEATEN PATH. 
 
 " Thus saith the Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old 
 paths, where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest for 
 your souls." -Jer. \i. 16. 
 
 The sands of life drop day by day, 
 Pilgrim, inquire the heav n-ward way ! 
 Tread, tread the path that Jesus trod, 
 The only path that leads to God. 
 
 Oh ! see how many round thee lie, 
 Whose soulless forms are mould ring nigh ; 
 They rest for ever as they fell, 
 The saved for heav n, the lost for hell! 
 
 The patriarchs of ancient years 
 Have journey d thro this vale of tears ; 
 Unnumber d saints this path have press d, 
 With weary feet, and found their rest. 
 11 
 
THE BEATEN PATH. 
 
 Martyrs have left their crimson stains 
 On these rough heights, and thorny plains ; 
 Unawed on earth by tyrants frowns, 
 Their brows now gleam with living crowns. 
 
 Then murmur not, " The path is steep, 
 My soul is weary, and must sleep ! " 
 There scarce is time to pause for breath, 
 There is no sleeping but in death. 
 
 Complain not that the way is drear, 
 Full of suffering, full of fear ; 
 But, halting Christian, ope thine eyes ! 
 The thorns are flowers in disguise. 
 
 What joy lies hid neath gushing tears ! 
 What hopes beam bright mid darkest fears ! 
 And, ah ! when worldly cares increase, 
 What blessed springs of heav nly peace ! 
 
 On, fainting pilgrim ! onward go ! 
 Look not for pleasure here below ! 
 Deem not this earth a place of rest, 
 But seek a Saviour s loving breast ! 
 
 12 
 
THE WALK WITH GOD. 
 
 " And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him. 
 Gen. v. 24. 
 
 How solacing amid the cares 
 Which Earth s defiled bosom bears, 
 To have some loved companion nigh, 
 Each pang to soothe each tear to dry ! 
 One on whose never-failing breast 
 The weary head may peaceful rest ; 
 One who our joys will gladly share, 
 And, when our wounded hearts we bare, 
 Will bend with ever ready ears, 
 And weep with sympathetic tears, 
 At that accumulated woe 
 Which makes the spirit overflow. 
 No earthly gloom is then so deep 
 But, star-like, joys will thro it peep ; 
 No path so desolate and drear, 
 But flowers of comfort blossom near ; 
 Whilst even sin s profound abyss 
 Is spann d by hope of future bliss, 
 As he, like messenger of grace, 
 Leads us to seek the Father s face. 
 
 But where such love devoted gain 
 Such sweet companionship obtain ? 
 
 13 
 
THE WALK WITH GOD. 
 
 Can we on earth such love secure 
 
 As shall thro all its trials endure 
 
 Provide a balm for ev ry grief 
 
 Meet ev ry want with quick relief ? 
 
 Ah ! earthly friendship oft will fail 
 
 When dark and threatening storms prevail ; 
 
 And those who sought us when the view 
 
 Glow d bright with beams which Fortune threw, 
 
 Will leave us crush d and trampled down, 
 
 When stern Adversity doth frown ; 
 
 When men our names with mockery greet, 
 
 And tread our fame beneath their feet. 
 
 How hard from friends of happier days 
 
 To meet the false and stony gaze, 
 
 Which tells of kindnesses forgot, 
 
 And coldly says I know you not ! 
 
 And e en with those who true abide, 
 Whom nought could tempt or fright aside ; 
 E en if of such a little band 
 Should seek to stretch a welcome hand, 
 Or strive our wounded hearts to bind, 
 And cheer us with their accents kind : 
 How oft some intercepting thing 
 Prevents the aid they fain would bring ! 
 Now tis the distance vast between 
 Now the dark waves that intervene : 
 
 14 
 
THE WALK WITH GOD. 
 
 These separate e en bosom friends, 
 
 And mar the solace Friendship sends. 
 
 Sometimes the heart on which we lean, 
 
 In ev ry woe or sorrow keen, 
 
 Itself, all crush d and bleeding, lies, 
 
 Needing our own deep sympathies ; 
 
 And all unable to inspire 
 
 The peace and comfort we require. 
 
 Each has his diff rent path in life; 
 
 Each has his own engrossing strife ; 
 
 And friends, like streams by headland parted, 
 
 Must oft, forlorn and heavy-hearted, 
 
 Pursue their course, with sadden d tone, 
 
 And thread Earth s wilderness alone. 
 
 And e en when fond companions meet 
 To soothe with kindly words and sweet, 
 How many cares lie dark and deep 
 How many woes the spirit steep 
 Which burden d souls cannot reveal, 
 Nor ministering Friendship heal ! 
 Yes, there are wounds that thrill too much 
 To bear the tend rest human touch ; 
 Known to the heart its bitterness (*) 
 None else can fathom its distress ! 
 But blessed they who, while they tread 
 This earth, with doubts and dangers spread, 
 
 (1) Prov. xiv. 10, 
 15 
 
THE WALK WITH GOD. 
 
 Can yet lift up to yonder skies 
 
 Their aching hearts and streaming eyes, 
 
 And see, the gloomy darkness thro , 
 
 A Father, Friend, Companion too ; 
 
 And who, with faith and patience shod, 
 
 Have learned betimes to walk with God ! 
 
 When man their burden cannot share, 
 
 The everlasting arms are there : 
 
 Whatever friends be torn away, 
 
 That Friend of friends shall ever stay ; 
 
 The world may oft our hearts estrange, 
 
 But His affection knows no change. 
 
 No oceans can from Him divide ; 
 
 No distance keep Him from our side ; 
 
 His loving eyes shine on our way, 
 
 And follow us where er we stray. 
 
 He knows the secrets of the soul 
 
 He marks each wave of sorrow roll ; 
 
 And sees each gnawing inward care 
 
 Which feeds upon the quiet there. 
 
 He marks each sinful thought and deed, 
 
 Which made His Son incarnate bleed ; 
 
 And sees the misery and pain 
 
 That ever follow in their train. 
 
 He views the daily conflict waged, 
 
 The soul from earth more disengaged ; 
 
 He marks the groan the deep-drawn sigh- 
 
 The pray r of faith the tearful eye; 
 
 16 
 
THE WALK WITH GOD. 
 
 And, as His tender soul doth melt, 
 He hastes to make His presence felt. 
 Before His cloud-dispelling smile, 
 Flee earth s dark cares and Satan s guile ; 
 The pilgrim, late by gloom oppress d, 
 All faint, perplex d, and deep-distress d, 
 Now sees around a cheering light, 
 And feels a superhuman might, 
 And, as the ruder tempests cease, 
 Soft-breathing zephyrs whisper peace. 
 
 Oh, walk, my soul, in that sweet way 
 That leads to everlasting day ! 
 Set not thy heart on things below, 
 Look not for wreaths earth can bestow ; 
 But covet that enduring treasure, 
 Seek that unalloyed pleasure, 
 That rest which for the just remains, 
 Where Jesus now in glory reigns ! 
 Walk like to him, the saint of old, 
 Who, now among the bless d enroll d, 
 These weary wilds once meekly trod, 
 And early lov d to < walk with G-od. 
 Walk thus, that when upon thy sight 
 Death comes, enwrapt in gloom of night, 
 Thy Lord may banish all alarms, 
 And take thee to His loving arms. 
 
 17 B 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 I. 
 
 " Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for 
 of such is the kingdom of God." Mark x. 14. 
 
 I saw a little infant child 
 
 Borne up the sacred aisle ; 
 I mark d the father s look of pride, 
 
 The mother s happy smile. 
 
 The pastor stood beside the font, 
 
 And took that little one 
 All tenderly within his arms, 
 
 As Jesus would have done : 
 
 He sprinkled on its brow the sign 
 
 Of God s renewing grace, 
 And gave it in the church of Christ 
 
 A title and a place. 
 
 It was a touching sight to see, 
 And, oh ! it thrilFd me through 
 
 To think not only we ourselves, 
 But our dear children too, 
 
 Might enter into covenant 
 With Him who reigns above 
 
 Drink deeply of His saving grace, 
 And share His tender love. 
 
 18 
 
CHURCH-MEMBEESHIP. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Lord, I have loved the habitation of thy house, and the place where 
 thine honour dwelleth." Psalm xxvi. 8. 
 
 Again I sought that holy place, 
 And look d for that sweet child ; 
 
 Upon his fresh and joyous face, 
 Some dozen springs had smil d : 
 
 It was a calm, bright Sabbath-day, 
 God s worshippers were there ; 
 
 And, mid the rest, I saw his lips 
 Move in responsive pray r. 
 
 I heard he was a wayward child, 
 
 With spirit high and bold 
 With temper fall of generous warmth, 
 
 Yet scarce to be controlled : 
 
 Headstrong at times, yet easy led 
 
 By accents soft and kind, 
 From those round whom his youthful heart 
 
 With fond affection twin d. 
 
 From such, e en in his stormiest mood, 
 
 One single look of pain 
 Would oft subdue his stubborn will, 
 
 And make him mild again. 
 
 19 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 They told me too twas passing strange 
 
 The deep, warm love he felt 
 For God s sweet Sabbath, and the House 
 
 In which His honor dwelt. 
 
 It was no longer strange to me 
 
 Who saw him worship there, 
 And how he clasp d his mother s hand, 
 
 And join d with her in pray r. 
 
 No wonder that he lov d that spot 
 
 That holy, happy day ; 
 He nearer seem d to her he priz d 
 
 When earth was far away. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Whosoever therefore shall confess me before men, him will I confess 
 also before my Father which is in Heaven." Matt. x. 32. 
 
 I look d again within that Church 
 
 More years had roll d away 
 Its sacred doors are open d wide, 
 
 Again tis Sabbath-day : 
 
 Fast-gath ring crowds come pouring in, 
 
 And soon its courts they fill ; 
 Whilst over all deep awe is spread, 
 
 And ev ry lip is still. 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 There stands the pastor, he who feeds 
 
 The flock of Jesus there, 
 And, by his side, a holy man 
 
 With kind, yet rev rend air. 
 
 There, set apart, is rang d a group, 
 With meek heads bending low 
 
 In solemn thought, and there I see 
 My friend of long ago. 
 
 My heart was anxious for the youth, 
 
 I knew his temper wild 
 I knew that mother s hand no more 
 
 Was nigh to guide her child ; 
 
 And thank d my God, though she had left 
 Earth s cares for Heaven s joy, 
 
 The Church had still a mother been 
 To that poor orphan boy. 
 
 She sought him out with loving eye, 
 When youth is prone to stray, 
 
 And led his wav ring feet once more 
 To tread the narrow way ; 
 
 And now the vows which others breath d 
 
 For him, in days long flown, 
 Are ratified before the world, 
 
 And firmly made his own. 
 21 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 With pray rs and blessing on his head, 
 
 God s aiding grace within, 
 He goes to fight the Christian s fight 
 
 The Christian s crown to win. ( ! ) 
 
 IV. 
 
 " The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood 
 of Christ? 
 
 The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ? 
 
 For we being many, are one bread and one body ; for we are all partakers 
 of that one bread." 1 Cor. x. 16, 17. 
 
 " This do in remembrance of me." Luke xxii. 19. 
 
 Ah ! tis no easy warfare that, 
 
 Which he was call d to wage, 
 Many and fierce the foes which round 
 
 The youthful soldier rage ; 
 
 And there are traitors in the camp, 
 Base thoughts the soul within, 
 
 With evil passions and desires, 
 And longings after sin ; 
 
 And, ah ! the flesh is weak, although 
 The will may yet be strong, ( 2 ) 
 
 And oft when striving for the right, 
 We yield to what is wrong. ( 3 ) 
 
 (1) II Tim. iv. 7, 8. (2) Matt. xxvi. 41. (3) Rvm. vii. 21-23. 
 22 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 What wonder then that soon I saw 
 The young < confirm d draw near . 
 
 To that sweet < supper of our Lord, 
 To fainting souls so dear. 
 
 His quivering lip and tearful eye 
 Proclaim d that faith was there, 
 
 And yet upon the fair young brow 
 Were signs of holy care : 
 
 He had much wand ring to regret, 
 
 Much sin to be forgiv n ; 
 And oft he mourn d himself unfit 
 
 For blessedness in Heav n. 
 
 It was not the material food 
 
 For which his spirit sigh d, 
 But that celestial meat and drink 
 
 Which there were typified : 
 
 The cleansing blood from Jesus side 
 The sweet and Heav nly Bread 
 
 By which the soul s renew d and wash d, 
 And for the Kingdom fed. 
 
 He came in deepest penitence, 
 He knelt in fervent pray r 
 
 And none return thence unrefresh d 
 Who thus seek Jesus there ! 
 
 23 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 V. 
 
 "I am the resurrection, and the life; he that believeth in me, though he 
 rere dad, yet shall he live. 
 
 And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die." Jbftn xi. 25, 26. 
 
 I saw him last beneath that roof, 
 
 In springtide of the year ; 
 The sunbeams pour d a golden flood 
 
 Of light upon his bier : 
 
 The very Churchyard seem d to smile 
 
 Above her mould ring bones, 
 And wild-flow rs twin d their fragrant arms 
 
 Around her mossy stones. 
 
 But, ah ! the mourners gathered there 
 
 But little solace drew 
 From all her sweet and winning looks 
 
 Their grief was yet too new. 
 
 And yet it seem d to me twas meet 
 
 To bear him to his rest, 
 When Nature look d her loveliest, 
 
 And Earth was gayest drest : 
 
 My sadden d thoughts were led to dwell 
 
 On brighter days in store, 
 When anguish shall not wring the heart, 
 
 And death shall slay no more : 
 
CHURCH-MEMBERSHIP. 
 
 When lifeless forms, bestow d in faith 
 
 Beneath the verdant sod, 
 Shall live again, and, glorified, 
 
 Surround the throne of God. 
 
 Sleep on, material frame of one 
 Now flown above the skies ! 
 
 Sleep, till the trumpets wak ning note 
 Shall summon thee to rise ! 
 
 The Church in which thy parents first 
 
 Their child to Jesus gave, 
 Shall stand a faithful sentinel, 
 
 Beside thy silent grave ; 
 
 And who shall tell, ere yet ye both 
 
 Have sunk into decay, 
 But thou may st see the glorious light 
 
 Of Resurrection-day? 
 
 25 
 
EARTH-WRITTEN NAMES. 
 
 " They that depart from me shall be written in the earth, because they 
 have forsaken the Lord." Jer. xvii. 13. 
 
 I saw a shipwrecked mariner 
 
 Cast on a sea-beat shore ; 
 Wounded and chill, he sunk to sleep 
 
 To wake- on earth no more ; 
 But ere his ransom d spirit flew 
 
 To its eternal home, 
 His dying fingers on the strand 
 
 Traced out his name and doom. 
 
 But, ah ! that record, brief and sad, 
 
 No mortal eye could see ; 
 The billows wiped it out, and bore 
 
 His lifeless corpse to sea : 
 His comrades trod the very spot 
 
 Whence fled his spirit fleet 
 They knew not of the parting words 
 
 He wrote beneath their feet. 
 
 I saw a mighty prince uprear 
 
 A monumental stone, 
 Inscrib d with deeds of glory wrought 
 
 With trophies proudly won ; 
 I mark d the flush upon his cheek 
 
 The kindling of his eye 
 The glance of high defiance cast 
 
 On land, and sea, and sky. 
 
 26 
 
EARTH-WRITTEN NAMES. 
 
 But, lo ! the tempest rent its base, 
 
 And cleft its shaft in twain, 
 Till now the puzzled traveller seeks 
 
 Its history in vain ; 
 For time s defacing hand hath swept 
 
 That proud inscription o er, 
 And none can tell whose bones lie hid 
 
 Beneath that ruin hoar. 
 
 So perish those whose fleeting names 
 
 And man-applauded worth, 
 Are written but by mortal hands 
 
 On records of the earth ; 
 Who, for the fading things of Time, 
 
 Forsake a Saviour s love, 
 And seek no name, no place within 
 
 The Book of Life above. 
 
 But, oh ! how blessed they who feel 
 
 That they are number d there, 
 With saints now crown d with living light 
 
 And free from worldly care ; 
 With those redeem d from ev ry land 
 
 Where Heav n s bright light is spread 
 Whose names and worth shall live and shine 
 
 When time and earth are fled. 
 
I LL FOLLOW THEE ! 
 
 " If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his 
 cross and follow me." Matt. xvi. 24. 
 
 Lord, I am sinful, wav ring, weak, 
 
 Thy gracious favor I bespeak ; 
 
 I have no strength to stand alone, 
 
 What might I have is all Thine own ; 
 
 Yet, through the storms that round me rage 
 
 Through erring youth and feeble age 
 
 Through ev ry trial Thou may st decree, 
 
 Lord, with Thy help, I ll follow Thee ! 
 
 Through loss of friends, and failing health 
 Through want of what the world calls wealth ; 
 Through stripes, imprisonments, and chains 
 Through gloomy forests, burning plains : 
 Through all the thorns that strew the way 
 Through all that tempts the soul to stray ; 
 Where er Thy footprints I may see, 
 Lord, with Thy help, I ll follow Thee. 
 
 On through the shadowy vale of death, 
 Where mortals yield their parting breath ; 
 On through the cold, sepulchral gloom 
 That shrouds the horrors of the tomb ; 
 On through the glitt ring spheres above 
 To glorious realms of peace and love, 
 Where white-robed angels wait for me, 
 Lord, with Thy help, I ll follow Thee ! 
 
 28 
 
AFLOAT. \ v 
 
 " He bringeth them unto their desired haven." Pqalm cvii. 30.." 
 
 Speeding along down the river of Time, v> 
 
 Speeding along to Eternity s sea, ^". 
 
 A gay little bark, in her beauty and prime, 
 
 Dancing above the bright ripples, I see. % . 
 
 The sunbeams are gilding the waters around, 
 And Fancy lights up the bright prospect before ; 
 
 Whilst Ocean seems wrapt in a slumber profound, 
 As light-footed zephyrs glide murm ringly o er. 
 
 Take heed, little vessel, be careful ! beware ! 
 
 Nor tempt without pilot the treacherous tide ; 
 Wh,e:ce the waters are calmest and brightest, tis ther$ 
 
 Too often dark rocks of destruction abide. 
 
 Let not the soft breezes tow rds Pleasure s sweet isle, 
 Inflate thy white canvass, and bear thee astray ; 
 
 Let not Ease and Folly thy senses beguile, 
 But, true as an arrow, speed onward away ! 
 
 For the winds that now whisper will presently roar, 
 And waken the billows which tranquilly sleep ; 
 
 Till they rush with wild fury on every shore, 
 And the universe echoes the wrath of the deep. 
 
 Be ready ! be vigilant thoughtful and true ! 
 
 Place Faith at the helm, and set Hope on the mast ; 
 Then dark clouds may gather, and wild waves pursue, 
 
 But thou lt reach a sure haven of peace at the last. 
 
 29 
 
CHRISTIAN FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 " We look Bweet counsel together, and walked unto the house of God in 
 company. "(I). Psalm Iv. 14. 
 
 Oh, what a charm doth Friendship lend to life ! 
 
 How dear a friend when Fortune s sunbeams glow ! 
 But dearer far when adverse storms are rife, 
 
 And sorrow s billows o er the bosom flow. 
 
 What solace sweet his soothing accents bring ! 
 
 Oh, what a balm attends each pitying tear ! 
 And death itself is robb d of half its sting, 
 
 If friendly forms still fondly linger near. 
 
 The simplest flow r, if pluck d by Friendship s hand, 
 From Nature s bright and beautiful parterre, 
 
 Will lovelier seem, touch d by Affection s wand, 
 Than all the fairer, costlier beauties there. 
 
 Our friendship s seed sprang forth in boyhood s years, 
 Ere we the rugged paths of life began ; 
 
 Th unfolding bud maturer age still cheers, 
 And may its blossom bloom upon the man ! 
 
 (1) " As friends ;" Prayer Book version. 
 30 
 
THE NARROW WAT. 
 
 May each succeeding day, like Heav n s bright dew, 
 With soft, refreshing influence descend, 
 
 And bid it shine life s dreary journey through, 
 With heighten d beauties as we near the end ! 
 
 Then, when the weary pilgrimage is o er, 
 Our souls, united in the bonds of love, 
 
 On seraphs wings triumphantly shall soar 
 And dwell with rapture in the realms above ! 
 
 THE NARROW WAY. 
 
 " Strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and 
 few there be that find it." Matt. vii. 14. 
 
 Press on ! fresh courage take, 
 Nor let thy feet forsake 
 
 The narrow way : 
 Though many a flow ret fair 
 May bloom in beauty there, 
 
 Oh, let it stay ! 
 
 Though wreath d in smiles of joy, 
 Vice doth her arts employ ; 
 
 Oh, pass her by ! 
 From pleasures bought by pain 
 From Folly s gaudy train, 
 
 Avert thine eye. 
 
 31 
 
THE NARROW WAY. 
 
 Let not Fame, Wealth, nor Pow r, 
 Companions of an hour, 
 
 Tempt thee to stray ; 
 Fix d be thine eyes above, 
 Where beam eternal love 
 
 And perfect day. 
 
 Thou hast a work to do, 
 A world to travel thro 
 
 A world of pain ; 
 But when thy race is run, 
 And thy blest home is won, 
 
 How great thy gab ! 
 
 There bliss and peace abound 
 There sweetest joys are found, 
 
 And pain s unknown : 
 There shall thy glad voice ring 
 With Angels, as they sing 
 
 At God s high throne ! 
 
 32 
 
INVITATION TO EARLY PIETY. 
 
 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth." Ecc. xii. 1. 
 
 In childhood s bright May-morning, 
 In manhood s dawning prime, 
 
 Obey the sacred warning, 
 And seek thy God in time ! 
 
 Though all around be gladness 
 
 Thy youthful heart be light, 
 And tears of pain and sadness 
 
 Have never dimm d thy sight ; 
 
 Though yet thy cheek be glowing 
 With health s bright rosy beam, 
 
 And life s fair tide be flowing 
 With clear, untroubled stream ; 
 
 Let not these blessings given 
 
 Excite thy spirit s pride, 
 Nor let thy heart be driven 
 
 From thy dear Saviour s side ! 
 
 On earthly joys and pleasures, 
 Oh, place not thou thy trust ! 
 
 These are but fleeting treasures 
 True joys are with the just ! 
 
 33 
 
SABBATH MORNING HYMN. 
 
 Disease may soon steal o er thee, 
 And sickness pale thy bloom ; 
 
 Bright hopes may fade before thee 
 Thy sunshine turn to gloom : 
 
 Misfortune, pain, and sorrow, 
 May blight the gayest heart 
 
 The closing of the morrow 
 The thread of life may part : 
 
 But Death no terror bringeth 
 
 To the soul that heav n-ward hies,- 
 
 Glad strains of joy it singeth, 
 As it cleaves the starry skies ! 
 
 SABBATH MORNING HYMN. 
 
 (For the Young.) 
 
 Though I am but a little child, 
 
 I ll seek God s house of pray r ; 
 On little children Jesus smil d, 
 
 And loves to see them there. 
 His gentle, patient, loving face 
 
 On earth I may not see ; 
 But I can, at the throne of grace, 
 
 Seek Him who died for me. 
 
 34 
 
SABBATH MORNING HYMN. 
 
 My heart shall, like the fruitful ground, 
 
 Receive His holy will ; 
 His Gospel s sweet and sacred sound 
 
 My ransom d soul shall thrill : 
 My joyful lips shall sing His praise, 
 
 As all His love I see, 
 And hymns of loud thanksgiving raise 
 
 To Hun who died for me. 
 
 And when, without His sacred walls, 
 
 I tread life s thorny way, 
 Whene er my God, or duty calls, 
 
 I ll cheerfully ohey : 
 Whatever path He bids me tread, 
 
 This shall my beacon be 
 Though clouds may gather overhead 
 
 " My Saviour died for me ! " 
 
 Then, when my pilgrimage is done, 
 
 And life s last day is o er, 
 The narrow gateway will be won, 
 
 And sorrow be no more : 
 For in His kingdom, face to face, 
 
 The Saviour I shall see ; 
 And in His glorious visage trace 
 
 Jesus, who died for me. 
 
 35 
 
SABBATH EVENING HYMN, 
 
 (For the Young.) 
 
 Lord, the light is fading fast 
 
 The darkness coming on ; 
 Another day of grace is past ; 
 
 Another Sabbath gone ! 
 How have I kept Thy holy day ? 
 
 Have I my soul defil d ? 
 Have I forgot, in any way, 
 
 That I am Jesus child ? 
 
 Ah ! yes, Lord, my restless mind 
 
 Too oft was turn d from Thee, 
 And often did the Tempter find 
 
 Some weaker part in me ; 
 Too often were my careless feet 
 
 From Heav n and Thee begun" d ; 
 But, Father, still, in mercy sweet, 
 
 Look on Thy erring child ! 
 
 Pardon each vain, unchristian thought - 
 
 Each sinful word and deed ; 
 And make me seek Thee as I onght, 
 
 And feel how deep my need : 
 Bow down my stubborn will to Him, 
 
 Who stilFd the tempest wild ; 
 And let my faith, though often 
 
 Still mark me Jesus child ; 
 
 36 
 
LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY. 
 
 That when the last great Sabbath day 
 
 In fadeless splendor breaks, 
 My soul may wing its heav nward way, 
 
 As it to glory wakes ; 
 And, one amid that joyous throng 
 
 In garments undefil d, 
 May praise the love in endless song, 
 
 That made me Jesus child. 
 
 LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY. 
 
 Luke xi. 1. 
 
 At smile of Morn, at frown of Night 
 
 Throughout the busy day, 
 Acknowledging Thy sovereign might, 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 In poverty, or ease, or wealth, 
 Neath Fortune s fickle ray, 
 
 In hours of sickness or of health, 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 Not only, breathing words, to kneel, 
 
 With hearts still far away ; 
 But, fir d with holy love and zeal, 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 31 
 
LORD, TEACH US TO PRAY. 
 
 For sweet forgiveness of the past 
 
 Each lost or mis-spent day ; 
 For mercy, should this be our last, 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 For grace our wanderings to retrace, 
 
 To break from Satan s sway, 
 And live in peace before Thy face, 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 For strength to follow Christ, our Guide 
 
 To tread His thorny way 
 To stem the force of Pleasure s tide, 
 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 That we may live a life of pray r, 
 And serve Thee night and day ; 
 
 And when tis o er, Thy glory share, 
 Oh, teach us, Lord, to pray ! 
 
 38 
 
THE OCEAN SABBATH. 
 
 41 He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still 
 Then are they glad because they be quiet." Psalm cvii. 29, 30. 
 
 Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 How solemn, yet how sweet ! 
 Here only sky and water 
 
 Around the pilgrim meet ; 
 Yet what a noble temple, 
 
 And what a holy calm 
 The very breeze seems burden d 
 
 With the words of some sweet psalm. 
 
 Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 Above her thousand graves 
 She slumbers, as if Jesus 
 
 Had lull d her heaving waves ; 
 Whilst e en the ruder spirit 
 
 Of man is charm d to rest, 
 As earth-born cares are banish d 
 
 Awhile from ev ry breast. 
 
 3d 
 
THE OCEAN SABBATH. 
 
 Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 How soft on wind and wave ? 
 The notes of that blest Gospel 
 
 Which God in mercy gave ! 
 How tenderly they call us 
 
 From scenes of earthly strife, 
 To seek, within His kingdom, 
 
 Unfading crowns of life ! 
 
 Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 How sweet, God ! to find, 
 Though home has faded from us, 
 
 Thou art not left behind ; 
 But still art present with us, 
 
 Amid life s saddest hours, 
 To typify so sweetly 
 
 The peace of Heaven s bow rs ! 
 
 Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 She has her darker moods, 
 And o er the human spirit 
 
 The storm-cloud often broods ; 
 But now we may together 
 
 Enjoy a brief repose 
 Together feel the presence 
 
 Of Him from whom it flows. 
 
 40 
 
A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. 
 
 Tis sabbath on the Ocean, 
 
 Bless God, my soul ! for this, 
 And ev ry blessed foretaste 
 
 Of that far higher bliss, 
 Which waits the wayworn wand rer 
 
 Across the swollen tide, 
 That bliss for which the Saviour 
 
 Was born, and bled, and died. 
 
 A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. ( ) 
 
 " Of such is the Kingdom of God." Marie x. 14. 
 
 Youthful Pilgrim, come away ! 
 
 Soon thine earthly journey s done ; 
 By the dawning light of day, 
 
 Thou thy heav nly home hast won. 
 Few have been life s cares for thee 
 
 Thine a flow ry path to tread ; 
 Few the thorns thine eyes could see 
 
 Few the storms above thy head. 
 
 (1) The subject of these verses was a beloved pupil of the Author; and 
 was remarkable for his pious, obedient, and affectionate character. He 
 died at the early age often years, 
 
 41 
 
A CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. 
 
 Youthful Soldier of the cross, 
 
 Lay thine untried weapons down 
 Thine the gain without the loss 
 
 Thine an easy-purchas d crown ! 
 Short thy strife with deadly foe 
 
 Few the hardships laid on thee ; 
 Few the mournful notes of woe 
 
 Ere the shouts of victory. 
 
 Tender Lamb of Jesus fold, 
 
 Come ! it is thy Shepherd s voice ; 
 Come ! His loving face behold 
 
 Seek His bosom, and rejoice ! 
 Nought can vex or harm thee there 
 
 Nought can tear thee forth again ; 
 Through sweet pastures, bright and fair, 
 
 Thou shalt follow in His train. 
 
 Young Disciple of the Lord, 
 Earthly studies now are o er ; 
 Thou shalt hear God s holy word 
 
 From lips of mortal man no more : 
 But there s a happy, holy place, 
 
 Fill d with blessed saints above ; 
 There shall Jesus, face to face, 
 
 Shew thee of His boundless love. 
 
 42 
 
THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER. 
 
 Weary Pilgrim now at rest 
 
 Soldier at the Conq ror s board 
 Lamb within the Shepherd s breast 
 
 Lov d Disciple with thy Lord : 
 Such is now thy glorious lot, 
 
 Such for ever shall it be ; 
 Clouds of earth can dim it not 
 
 Thou art in Eternity ! 
 
 THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER. 
 
 Lukevu. 36 to 50. 
 
 Low at the Saviour s feet 
 
 A guilty sinner bends ; 
 Up to his loving face 
 
 A tearful glance she sends : 
 " Can one, Himself so pure, 
 
 Of lineage so high, 
 The loathsome sight endure 
 
 Of one so vile as I ?" 
 
 Around His weary feet 
 Her loving arms are cast, 
 
 Whilst tears of sorrow sweet 
 Fall o er them thick and fast ; 
 
 43 
 
THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER. 
 
 Her long and flowing hair 
 The pride of woman s eye, 
 
 Is not esteem d too fair 
 To cleanse and wipe them dry. 
 
 How doth each warm caress 
 
 Her clinging lips impart, 
 In language mute express 
 
 The yearnings of her heart ! 
 That ointment rich and rare 
 
 Her poverty could bring 
 Its odours sweet declare 
 
 Tis no mean offering. 
 
 The Pharisee and Scribe, 
 
 Exalted in their pride, 
 Can gaze hi silent scorn, 
 
 Or turn their eyes aside ; 
 Can gather up their robes, 
 
 And feign a pious fear, 
 Lest they should be defil d 
 
 E en by her passing near ; 
 
 But from "the Sinner s Friend "- 
 Her gracious, loving Lord 
 
 No scornful looks descend, 
 No proud, no angry word : 
 
 44 
 
THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNEK. 
 
 " Can he a prophet be," 
 
 Their wondering looks would say 
 " And suffer such as she 
 
 Within His sight to stay ?" 
 
 " Yes, sepulchres of sin ! 
 
 Who, whited fairly o er, 
 Are dark and foul within, 
 
 And rotten at the core ; 
 Yes, His keen gaze can pierce 
 
 Each human bosom through, 
 And to His searching eyes 
 
 She s purer far than you ! 
 
 " She whom the righteous spurn 
 
 Whom Publicans revile 
 Whom sin s most loathsome marks 
 
 Deface, degrade, defile ; 
 Though on her guilty soul 
 
 Be many a deep, foul stain, 
 Her faith in Jesus blood 
 
 Shall wash it pure again ! 
 
 " But you your lengthy pray rs, 
 
 Hypocrisy and pride, 
 Long robes and public alms, 
 
 Your God will not abide : 
 
 45 
 
THE WOMAN THAT WAS A SINNER. 
 
 You have your poor reward 
 In man s approving look, 
 
 But His indignant wrath 
 Such insult cannot brook." 
 
 " Proud host, to thy high guest 
 
 No water gavest thou ; 
 Thou gavest Him no kiss 
 
 On pallid cheek or brow ; 
 Not even olive oil 
 
 Didst thou vouchsafe to shed, 
 In sweetly-soothing streams, 
 
 Upon that holy head. 
 
 " But she, with gushing tears, 
 
 Hath wash d His wayworn feet ; 
 And hath not ceas d to press 
 
 Fond kisses soft and sweet : 
 With those fair-flowing locks, 
 
 Which grace her downcast head, 
 Those feet were fondly dried 
 
 With rarest ointment spread." 
 
 " Ye Pharisaic tribe, 
 
 Who boast yourselves so clear 
 From sin s polluting stains, 
 
 Look to your souls, and fear ! 
 
 46 
 
FLOWERS AND EARS OP CORN. 
 
 Ye feel no need of mercy, 
 But claim a place above ; 
 
 And thus for Christ, your Saviour, 
 How little is your love ! 
 
 " But ye who, bow d with sin, 
 
 Have counted Jesus dear, 
 Ye in whose hearts the streams 
 
 Of love run deep and clear, 
 Look, penitents, to Heaven ! 
 
 The Saviour loveth such 
 * To you much is forgiven, 
 
 For you have lovM much P r 
 
 FLOWERS AND EARS OF CORN. 
 
 " Ye shall know them by their fruits." Matt. vii. 16. 
 
 A fair young boy, in the fragrant breath 
 Of a glowing Autumn morn, 
 
 Twin d for himself a graceful wreath 
 Of flowers and ears of corn. 
 
 47 
 
FLOWERS AND EARS OF CORN. 
 
 Proudly he placed the fillet he made 
 Mid his waving golden hair, 
 
 And sported about o er hill and glade 
 With a happy, joyous air. 
 
 But soon the sun with its burning ray 
 Pour d down on the fair hill-side ; 
 
 Till weary with heat, and tir d of play, 
 He cast the wreath aside. 
 
 The flow rs soon lost their delicate bloom 
 Beneath the scorching sun ; 
 
 And soon they paled and wither d away, 
 And perish d one by one : 
 
 But on the ears of corn, it seems, 
 
 Its fierceness fell in vain ; 
 For it only ripen d them with its beams, 
 
 And turn d them into grain. 
 
 Thus fade, thought I, the many vows, 
 
 Array d in seeming truth, 
 Which shine like flow rs upon the brows 
 
 Of gay and thoughtless youth : 
 
 48 
 
FAITH. 
 
 They will not bear the scorching sun 
 That tries them day by day ; 
 
 But speedily wither, one by one, 
 And die, and fall away. 
 
 But holy deeds, the fruits of faith, 
 And done in Christian love 
 
 These only ripen beneath the breath 
 Of the sun which gleams above ; 
 
 Till at last the joyful Harvest-home 
 O er earth s wide fields shall reign, 
 
 And troops of angel-reapers come 
 To gather the golden grain. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 (Impromptu.) 
 
 See yonder snowy bird, silently winging 
 
 O er the dark waters her joyous way ! 
 Fearless she sleeps where their murmurs are ringing, 
 
 And pillows her head mid the silvery spray. 
 
 Teach us thus, Lord, in this world of commotion 
 Daily deriving fresh courage from Thee 
 
 Like the sea-bird which sports mid the roar of the ocean, 
 As fearless, as trusting, as cheerful to be ! 
 
 49 D 
 
LIVING TEMPLES. 
 
 "Know ye not that ye are the temple of God; and that the Spirit oi 
 God dwelleth in you? If any man defile the temple of God, him shall God 
 destroy; for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye are." 1 Cor. iii. 
 16, 17. 
 
 How fair, in page of Holy Writ, 
 
 Judea s Temple stands ! 
 Twas God himself who fashion d it 
 
 By means of mortal hands : 
 Twas He conceiv d the grand design 
 
 The gates the massive wall ; 
 The outer courts the inner shrine 
 
 The " Holiest of all." 
 
 Majestical it rose beneath 
 
 The Master-builder s eye, 
 And soon, within its courts, the breath 
 
 Of incense rose on high ; 
 While priests, by altars stain d with blood, 
 
 Were loud in praise and pray r, 
 And over all Shechinah stood 
 
 To shew that God was there. 
 
 50 
 
LIVING TEMPLES. 
 
 That temple charms no more the sight 
 
 Its stones are prostrate laid 
 Its holy pomp, each solemn rite, 
 
 Were doom d of old to fade : 
 They were but shadows of the things 
 
 Which Christians now possess 
 The grey of early dawn which brings 
 
 The Sun of Righteousness. 
 
 But God, our God, has Temples still, 
 
 In which the faithful meet, 
 To hear their loving Master s will, 
 
 And hymn His praises sweet. 
 Tis there their spirits seem to leave 
 
 This world for one above, 
 As they the pledges sweet receive 
 
 Of Jesus dying love. 
 
 And other Temples yet than these 
 
 God has upon this earth ; 
 Tis only He, perchance, that sees 
 
 Their unpretending worth. 
 They are not temples built of stone, 
 
 Adorn d by human skill ; 
 But hearts that worship Him alone, 
 
 And love to do His will. 
 
 51 
 
LIVING TEMPLES. 
 
 In those still shrines some fav rite sin 
 
 Each day a victim dies ; 
 And from those silent courts within 
 
 Sweet pray rs, like incense, rise. 
 There dwells a peace, which nought can mar, 
 
 To soothe all earthly pains 
 There, brighter than Shechinah far, 
 
 God s blessed Spirit reigns ! 
 
 That Spirit breathes upon the soul, 
 
 And warms it into life ; 
 Tis ever present to control 
 
 The evil that is rife ; 
 It seals it as a child of grace, 
 
 As one of Jesus band ; 
 And gives an earnest of the bliss 
 
 Of Heaven s promis d land. (*) 
 
 MMMW 
 
 (1) Eph. i, 13., II Cor. i. 22. 
 
 52 
 
DELIVER US FROM EVIL. 
 
 Matt. vi. 13. 
 
 In childhood s bright but fleeting years ; 
 
 In youth s fair Spring in manhood s prime ; 
 When tott ring age itself appears, 
 
 With locks all thin and hoar with time : 
 Do thou, God ! when danger s rife, 
 
 Thy gracious aid at once afford 
 In ev ry stage and path of life 
 
 Deliver us from evil, Lord ! 
 
 Where er Thy will may bid us stray, 
 
 On land, or on the changeful deep ; 
 When neath the glorious light of day 
 
 When in thy care we sink to sleep ; 
 When thieves the midnight silence break 
 
 When murd rous fingers grasp the sword 
 When Satan strives the soul to take 
 
 Deliver us from evil, Lord ! 
 
 .53 
 
LOOK TO JESUS ! 
 
 Looking unto Jesus, the author (1) and finisher of our faith." Heb. xii. 2. 
 
 Child of a lost and guilty race ! 
 
 With dark, polluted, leprous soul ; 
 An exile from thy Father s face, 
 
 Despising all his fond control, 
 Thy Saviour s hand can yet deface 
 Of sin s disease each ling ring trace 
 
 Oh ! look to Jesus, and be whole ! 
 
 Thou captive spirit ! bound in chains, 
 Which Satan s hands have forg d for thee ; 
 
 Oh ! shun the agonizing pains 
 Which wait thee in eternity. 
 
 From dungeon deep, where darkness reigns 
 
 Look up to Heav n ! whilst hope remains, 
 Oh ! look to Jesus, and be free ! 
 
 (1) Marginal reading, the beginner. 
 
 54 
 
LOOK TO JESUS. 
 
 Ye murm ring mortals, bending low 
 Beneath a load of human ill ; 
 
 Though troubled waters round you flow, 
 And bitter gall your cup may fill ; 
 
 Though num rous cares may now distress, 
 
 And none be nigh to aid and bless 
 Look, look to Jesus ! Peace, be still ! 
 
 Ye fainting pilgrims, as ye go 
 This earth s sad wilderness along, 
 
 How oft will notes of deepest woe 
 Be mingled in your wayside song ! 
 
 Oft will your strength and vigour fail 
 
 Oft will your very spirit quail 
 But look to Jesus, and be strong ! 
 
 Departing saints, whom death doth call 
 From earth and all its ties to sever ; 
 
 Whatever clouds may round you fall 
 Let faith and courage waver never ! 
 
 Remember Jesus standeth by 
 
 Soon shall ye meet his loving eye 
 Oh, look to Him, and live for ever ! 
 
 55 
 
THE CHRISTENING OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 " For the promise is unto you, and to your children." Acts ii. 39. 
 
 " Within God s sacred courts we bring 
 This day, our dearest earthly thing, 
 A first-fruit off ring to our King, 
 
 In thee, our first-born, Marion ! 
 
 " Thou art, sweet child, a blessing rare, 
 Committed to our tend rest care ; 
 But One now claims a higher share, 
 Than I, or mother, Marion ! 
 
 " Thou art not only hers and mine ; 
 Thy baby brow now bears a sign, 
 Which makes thee Christ s and makes Christ thine, 
 My little Christian Marion ! 
 
 " Oh ! may the Spirit s quick ning pow r 
 Date thy 6 new birth from this blest hour, 
 And train thee up a holy flow r, 
 
 To bloom in Heaven, Marion ! 
 
 " I ask not for thee gems, nor gold, 
 Rare charms, broad lands, nor titles old ; 
 But safe within the Saviour s fold 
 I d have my little Marion. 
 
 56 
 
THE CHRISTENING OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 " There, in that ark, my gentle dove, 
 May st thou behold that wondrous love 
 Which brought down Jesus from above, 
 To save thee, happy Marion ! 
 
 " Sweet charms will then thy spirit grace, 
 More fair than those of form or face, 
 And make thy heart a holy place 
 
 For Christ to dwell in, Marion ! 
 
 " Then should that Saviour summon thee 
 From earth and its delights to flee, 
 E en in bright hours of infancy, 
 
 Thou It still be blest, my Marion ! 
 
 " Or should He rather, one by one, 
 Bid father, mother, friends, begone, 
 And leave thee in this world alone, 
 A little mourner, Marion ! 
 
 " Still thou must meekly learn to bend 
 To Him from whom such blows descend, 
 And closer cling to that dear Friend 
 
 Who ll never leave thee, Marion ! 
 
 " I am Christ s, and Christ is mine, 
 Oh, be this watchword ever thine ! 
 A pillar of light and life divine 
 
 For earth and Heav n, my Marion ! 
 
 6? 
 
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 "I shall go to him, but ho shall not return to me." II Sam. xii. 23. 
 
 There was a tiny little flow r 
 
 That bloom d beside our hearth ; 
 It grew, mid sunshine and mid show r, 
 
 A lovely child of earth ; 
 Twas sweet to watch it day by day, 
 
 To view each op ning grace, 
 And see the lights and shadows play 
 
 Upon its winsome face. 
 
 There came a little rosy beam, 
 
 And lighted up a home, 
 So bright and happy then, twould seem 
 
 That sorrow could not come ; 
 A beam which from the aching heart 
 
 Would ev ry care beguile, 
 And bid the gath ring clouds depart 
 
 Before a joyous smile. 
 
 58 
 
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BOHN. 
 
 There was a little, silv ry voice, 
 
 So full of childish glee, 
 It seem d to bid the world rejoice 
 
 And make all sadness flee : 
 How softly on the summer air 
 
 Its thrilling notes would rest ! 
 And, oh, how sweet the echoes were 
 
 It woke within the breast ! 
 
 That flow V has past from earth away, 
 
 Its brief spring-tide is o er ; 
 That rosy beam has ceas d to play ; 
 
 That voice is heard no more. 
 Its tender notes are hush d and still 
 
 Which bade our woes depart, 
 And never now can soothe or thrill 
 
 The worn and weary heart. 
 
 But there s a bright, a blessed spot, 
 
 Where things, for earth too pure, 
 Are dwelling now, without a blot 
 
 Their glory to obscure ; 
 Tis there that tender flow r now blows, 
 
 Tis there that learn doth shine 
 Tis there that gentle voice now flows 
 
 In harmonies divine ! 
 
THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. 
 
 We grieve to miss that little form 
 
 The flow V, the beam, the voice 
 Which prov d our comfort in each storm, 
 
 And made our hearts rejoice ; 
 But yet we are content to know 
 
 That she is now at rest, 
 Beyond the pains of earth below, 
 
 Upon her Saviour s breast. 
 
 We love to think upon her now, 
 
 With Him who lov d her so 
 That He must guard her infant brow 
 
 From ev ry line of woe ; 
 We love to think of that blest time, 
 
 When we that home shall gain, 
 And in a brighter, happier clime, 
 
 Embrace our child again. 
 
THY WILL BE DONE !" 
 
 Matt. vi. 10. 
 
 Jehovah ! round Thy starry throne, 
 
 All angels bow the knee ; 
 Archangels know Thy will alone, 
 
 And homage pay to Thee: 
 Then we, who are so little worth, 
 
 Shall we obedience shun? 
 Like those in Heav n, ma y we m earth, 
 
 Exclaim " Thy will be done !" 
 
 When Hope deceives the trusting heart, 
 
 And leaves it to despair ; 
 When Fortune frowns, and friends depart, 
 
 Too false our woe to share : 
 When sickness bids us leave the goal 
 
 The toil of years hath won, 
 Oh ! teach us, still, with humbled soul, 
 
 To say " Thy will be done !" 
 
 61 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 When Sorrow makes the bosom smart, 
 
 And bids the tear-drop flow ; 
 When Death lets fly his ruthless dart, 
 
 And lays some lov d one low : 
 Whate er our course through life may be 
 
 A calm or troubled one, 
 Teach us, Lord, to trust in Thee, 
 
 And say " Thy will be done !" 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 " Blessed are the pure in heart; for they shall see God." Matt. v. 8. 
 
 Toll, toll a knell ! sad tribute to the dead ! 
 
 Flow on uncheck d, thou warmly-gushing tear ! 
 Above the grave, One, more than human, shed 
 
 Those precious drops, and all are human here. 
 
 How truly Mem ry pictures to the mind 
 That lovely form, expanding like the rose ; 
 
 But chill d and withered by th unkindly wind, 
 E er she more ripen d beauties could disclose ! 
 
 62 
 
IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Dear to the heart the morn which hail d her birth 
 The childish sports in which she play d her part ; 
 
 Her warm affection, and her deeds of worth 
 Her heav nly mind her purity of heart ! 
 
 These these are charms undimm d by Death s dark frown, 
 These these are ftow rs whose beauty cannot die ! 
 
 These shall entwine around her saintly crown, 
 And bloom effulgent thro Eternity ! 
 
 How sadly, as each wak ning sun arose, 
 
 We mark d that visage pale that form grow weak ! 
 And, as a fair day crimsons at its close, 
 
 So lovelier grew the bloom upon her cheek : 
 
 Whilst that fair constellation of the heart 
 
 Sweet beaming Hope dispell d foreboding fear ; 
 
 But soon its rays did one by one depart, 
 
 We saw we felt Death s darksome hour draw near, 
 
 As o er the mind float visions of the night, 
 And leave us dazzled by the light they shed ; 
 
 So purely, peacefully, serenely bright, 
 Her seraph-spirit on its passage sped ! 
 
 G3 
 
I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU COMFOETLESS. 
 
 Within the grave her mould ring frame may rest, 
 And dew-drops sparkle on the verdant sod ? 
 
 Yet shall she rise, in spotless garb be drest 
 In brighter regions shall she " see her Grod." 
 
 I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU COMFORTLESSl ( ) 
 
 John xiv. 18. 
 
 Sweet words of comfort and of cheer 
 
 For sorrow-stricken hearts, 
 When from its hidden source the tear 
 
 Of bitter anguish starts ; 
 When clouds of utter hopelessness 
 
 Above us darkly low r, 
 And through earth s dreary wilderness 
 
 Blooms not a single flow r ! 
 
 Ye followers of Him whose head 
 
 No earthly pillow press d, 
 Tis yours a rugged path to tread 
 
 Worn, weary, and distress d ; 
 And now that He, your Friend, your Guide 
 
 Your Comforter your all, 
 Is soon to vanish from your side, 
 
 Well may your spirits fall. 
 
 (1) Marginal reading, "Orphans." 
 64 
 
I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU COMFORTLESS. 
 
 Like children reft of father s care, 
 
 Or watchful mother s love, 
 With none on earth those hopes to share 
 
 Which lift your souls above ; 
 There shall be One beside you still 
 
 Who never shall depart 
 Oh ! let His tender accents thrill 
 
 And animate your heart ! 
 
 " I will not leave you comfortless ! " 
 
 You shall not wander here, 
 Like orphans, with no sire to bless, 
 
 To counsel or to cheer ; 
 He is your Friend, your Father still, 
 
 Unseen by mortal eye, 
 His spirit shall your bosom fill, 
 
 And ev ry need supply ! 
 
 No bitter griefs your hearts can wring 
 
 No sin defile your soul 
 But He can heal their bitter sting, 
 
 And cleanse and make you whole ; 
 The mother may the babe forget, Q 
 
 Which smiles upon her breast 
 His love shall ne er grow dim nor set, 
 
 But ever on you rest. 
 
 *MMMMlrt 
 
 (1) Isaiah xlix. 15. 
 
 65 B 
 
Fear wot, disciples of the Lord ! 
 
 His Spirit cheers your way ; 
 He can all grace and strength afford, 
 
 However dark your day : 
 He leads you, by a path unknown, 
 
 To bliss no tongue can tell, 
 Where anguish makes no bosom groan, 
 
 And nought but joy can dwell. 
 
 ELEGY. 
 
 I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the 
 dead which die in the Lord from henceforth: yea, saith the Spirit, that they 
 may rest from their labours ; and their works do follow them.-Jtei;. xiv. 13. 
 
 Weep not for her, whose soul hath fled 
 
 Beyond this new-rais d tomb, 
 Where Sorrow s tears were freely shed, 
 
 And Hope seem d lost in gloom ! 
 She is not dead she is not here ! 
 But risen to a happier sphere, 
 
 Where joys eternal bloom. 
 
 66 
 
ELEGY. 
 
 Weep not for her, whose blooming youth 
 
 Disease hath worn away ! 
 Rather rejoice she < walked in truth/ () 
 
 While yet twas early day ; 
 And patiently and humbly trod 
 The narrow path that leads to God 
 
 That sweet, that holy way. 
 
 Weep not for her ! for she is gone 
 Where tears are never shed ; 
 
 Where pain and trouble are not known 
 
 Where ev ry care hath fled : 
 
 Array d in snow-white raiment now 
 
 A crown of glory on her brow 
 No ! no ! she is not dead ! 
 
 Weep not for her ! her work is done ; 
 
 The cross she meekly bore 
 Is laid aside, her race is run 
 
 Her holy strife is o er : 
 Her soul at peace her sins forgiv n ; 
 High-placed by Jesus side in Heav n 
 
 Mourner, what would st thou more ? 
 
 (1) in. Ep., John 4. 
 
 67 
 
ELEGY. 
 
 Her s was the true, the sterling worth, 
 
 That never knows decay, 
 Which can but shed, whilst yet on earth, 
 
 A faint and dawning ray ; 
 But, oh ! when earth and earthly things 
 Have flown away on Time s swift wings, 
 
 It blazes into day. 
 
 Weep not for her ! could she declare 
 The joys that round her reign, 
 
 You would not wish you would not dare 
 To call her back again : 
 
 Ear hath not heard, eye hath not seen 
 
 The glories of that blissful scene, (0 
 Then let her there remain ! 
 
 And, oh ! remember, ye who love 
 
 Her Heav n-recorded name, 
 That faith which lifted her above, 
 
 And firmly clasp the same ; 
 Then, come what may of this world s care, 
 You yet shall meet in glory there, 
 
 Beyond This earthly frame ! 
 
 (1) Isaiah Ixiv. 4., 1 Cor. ii. 9, 
 
 68 
 
LIFE. 
 
 Tis sweet to gaze on the broad expanse 
 
 Of the deep and boundless ocean, 
 When the pale moon sheds its tranquil glance 
 
 On its breast, devoid of motion : 
 When each sound is hush d, and not a word 
 
 By unhallow d lip is spoken, 
 And even the sea-bird s cry s unheard 
 
 To intrude on the calm unbroken ! 
 
 Tis awful to see the dark waves roll 
 
 To list to their angry roaring, 
 The thunder resounding from pole to pole, 
 
 And the rain in torrents pouring : 
 To hear the spars snap, and the timbers creak, 
 
 As they yield to the rushing billow, 
 The mariner s last, despairing shriek, 
 
 As he sinks to his watery pillow ! 
 
 And such is life ! now joy and peace 
 
 Now dark, distress d, and troubled ; 
 Till we reach that haven where storms shall cease, 
 
 And all our joys be doubled. 
 Then, come ! let us cast all fear aside, 
 
 And hope and comfort borrow, 
 For there we may safely at anchor ride, 
 
 Having past this sea of sorrow. 
 
 69 
 
SUNSET REFLECTIONS. 
 
 " When it is evening, ye say, it will be fair weather : for the sky is red. 
 -Matt. xvi. 2. 
 
 Behold the fair Sun, as he sinks to his rest, 
 
 In beauty and brilliancy glowing, 
 Gilding each ripple that plays on the breast 
 
 Of the stream that is tranquilly flowing. 
 
 His bright course is run, he has gladden d all hearts ; 
 
 And to each child of nature hath given 
 Fresh strength, and he now, as he slowly departs, 
 
 Sheds a promising glow over heaven. 
 
 As we gaze, let us pause, and consider the deeds 
 
 Of the day, with a careful inspection ; 
 And, as from the mind each dark shadow recedes, 
 
 Let it meet the keen eyes of Reflection. 
 
 Have we shunn d what is ill ? have we lov d what is right ? 
 
 Have we lighten d one heart of its sorrow ? 
 Has our conduct been such, should we perish this night, 
 
 As to promise a blissful to-morrow ? 
 
 70 
 
THINGS BELOVED. 
 
 The works of the Lord are great, sought out of all them that have 
 pleasure therein." Psalm cxi. 2. 
 
 I love the calm and radiant sky 
 
 Those glowing orbs of light, 
 Which tread their silent path on high, 
 
 And soften frowns of night : 
 I love each little lustrous star 
 
 A Father s grace hath giv n ; 
 They seem like^ angels eyes afar, 
 
 To gaze from courts of heav n. 
 
 I love vast ocean when it laves 
 
 In peace the pebbly shore ; 
 And when its high and crested waves 
 
 Give out their giant roar : 
 I love the soft, mysterious sound, 
 
 With which the streamlet flows ; 
 Tis like a pilgrim, heav nward bound, 
 
 A-singing as he goes. 
 
 71 
 
THINGS BELOVED. 
 
 I love the fair and fragrant earth, 
 
 Despite its gloom and care, 
 For noble deeds of honest worth, 
 
 And faith and love are there ; 
 I love the sunbeams mid its flow rs 
 
 The strains of woodland choir ; 
 The peace which reigns o er Sabbath hours 
 
 The music of the spire. 
 
 I love fair childhood s beaming smile, 
 
 Its ev ry winning way ; 
 I love to see it free from guile, 
 
 And full of happy play : 
 But, oh ! tis deck d with loveliest charms, 
 
 When, like the babes of old, 
 It smiles within the Saviour s arms ( ) 
 
 A lamb of Jesus fold. 
 
 I love God s sacred House of Prayer, 
 
 Where kindred spirits meet 
 To bow with adoration there, 
 
 And sit at Jesus feet : 
 I love the high, and holy psalm 
 
 The evangelic hymn ; 
 My soul they stimulate or calm, 
 
 Like voice of Cherubim. 
 
 (DMarkx.15,16. 
 
 72 
 
THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 But far above the dearest things 
 
 On this attractive ball, 
 To Him my spirit fondly clings 
 . Who gave and blessed all : 
 To Hun who, sinful man to free, 
 
 Earth s wilds in sorrow trod 
 To Hun who made, and sealeth me, ( ) 
 
 A happy child of God. ( 2 ) 
 
 THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 "The law of thy mouth is better unto me than thousands of gold and 
 silver. I will never forget thy precepts, for with them thou hast quickened 
 me." Psalm cxix. 72 and 93. 
 
 There is a venerable Book, 
 
 On which my infant eyes 
 Would often gaze with mingled look 
 
 Of rev rence and surprise ; 
 Its very presence seem d to change 
 
 Or check youth s giddy stream, 
 Yet still it won twas passing strange ! 
 
 My young heart s high esteem. 
 
 (1) Ephes. i. 13, and iv. 30. (2) John i. 12, 13. 
 73 
 
THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 Each morn and eve, at hour of pray r, 
 
 Its holy light was pour d 
 Within the silent chamber, where 
 
 Its Author was ador d ; 
 And never on my father s face 
 
 Did such sweet rapture dwell, 
 As when its words, so full of grace, 
 
 From him in meekness fell. 
 
 I knew not then their meaning deep, 
 
 But yet the voice was dear, 
 And oft I turn d aside to weep, 
 
 Or hide the gath ring tear ; 
 As, here and there, some tender truth 
 
 Would thrill my thoughtless heart, 
 And even to the soul of youth 
 
 Its quick ning pow r impart. 
 
 But soon that father s voice grew weak, 
 
 His aged eyes grew dim ; 
 A pallor settled on his cheek 
 
 Twas I then read to him : 
 And oh ! though suff ring tried without, 
 
 And storms within grew rife, 
 How quickly fled each fear and doubt 
 
 That vex d his inner life ! 
 T4 
 
THE FAMILY BIBLE. 
 
 His pale cheek wore a peaceful bloom, 
 
 As, with Faith s purer sight, 
 He saw, beyond the yawning tomb, 
 
 The saints blest home in light. 
 Ah ! yes, twas then I saw, I felt 
 
 Those truths to be divine, 
 And* by that dying form I knelt, 
 
 And pray d they might be mine. 
 
 That Book is still my chosen friend- 
 
 My comforter my guide ; 
 I ll trust it till life s latest end, 
 
 Though all prove false beside : 
 For tho its outward charms decay, 
 
 I feel its inward pow r 
 Grows stronger ev ry passing day, 
 
 And sweeter ev ry hour : 
 Whilst often, as I sink to rest, 
 
 I bless that father s tongue 
 Which sow d the seed within my breast 
 
 From which my peace has sprung. 
 
INCENTIVES TO PRAISE. 
 
 "All thy works shall praise thee, O Lord; and thy saints shall blese 
 thee." Psalm cxlv. 10. 
 " Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits." Psalm ciii. 2. 
 
 Why do I praise Him ? Go, ask yon flower, 
 
 So fresh and so lovely in bloom, 
 Why it breathes on the air, from my gay little bower, 
 
 Its fragrant and luscious perfume. 
 
 Why do I praise Him ? Go, ask yon stream, 
 
 Why it murmurs its grateful song, 
 As its bosom reflects the sun s fair beam, 
 
 And it joyfully ripples along. 
 
 Why do I praise Him ? Go, ask yon choir 
 Why they warble their soul-thrilling lays 
 
 From the thicket, the brake, and the moss-cover d spire, 
 Thro the long and serene summer days. 
 
 Each flower with fragrance and brightness of hue 
 Each stream with its murmuring sound 
 
 Each bird with its song tell their gratitude due 
 To the Source whence all blessings abound. 
 76 
 
A MOTHER S HYMN. 
 
 And shall flowers, and streamlets, and birds of the air, 
 
 Be full of God s glory and praise, 
 Whilst I, who His love more abundantly share, 
 
 Not a strain of thanksgiving can raise ? 
 
 Oh, no ! tis He guides me, He lightens my way ; 
 
 He aids me in every strife ; 
 And therefore I praise Him by night and by day, 
 
 And will till the close of my life. 
 
 A MOTHER S HYMN. 
 
 " He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. 
 -Psalm xci. 11. 
 
 Gather, angels, gather round her ; 
 
 O er her let thy wings be spread ; 
 Let delightful dreams be found her, 
 
 Scatter blessings o er her head. 
 
 Warble, angels, warble o er her, 
 Tender strains of joy and peace ; 
 
 Smooth the path that lies before her, 
 Bid all sin s delusions cease. 
 77 
 
BOCHIM. 
 
 Guard her, angels, whilst reposing, 
 Keeping loving watch and true ; 
 
 Let those eyes, like violets closing, 
 Open to the morning dew. 
 
 Guard that body fairer flower 
 .- Ne er to deck this earth was giv n ; 
 Keep it from each driving shower, 
 Warm it with the beams of heav n. 
 
 Guard that soul that priceless treasure, 
 And, should that form no more arise, 
 
 Bear it to scenes of holy pleasure, 
 Endless bliss beyond the skies. 
 
 BOCHIM. 
 
 "And it came to pass, when the angel of the Lord spake these words un 
 to all the children of Israel, that the people lifted up their voice, and wept. 
 And they called the name of that place Bochim." Judges ii. 4, 5. 
 
 Through Bochim s valley all must tread, 
 
 Some bitter, burning tears, 
 Must ev ry heav n-bound pilgrim shed, 
 
 Before his home appears : 
 
 (1) "Weepers" ; "place of weeping." 
 78 
 
BOCHIM. 
 
 Before he sees his Father s face, 
 
 In realms of endless day ; 
 Before in Jesus fond embrace, 
 
 All tears are wiped away. 
 
 Dark deeds of sin, wrought long ago, 
 In wild and thoughtless youth, 
 
 Whilst yet we wander d to and fro, 
 Strangers to God and truth, 
 
 These oft, like ghosts, will leave the tomb, 
 
 In stillness of the night, 
 Oppress the heart with deepest gloom, 
 
 The trembling soul affright : 
 
 Many the dreary, sleepless nights, 
 Many the tears and prayers, 
 
 Before these grim and ghastly sprites 
 Are driven from their lairs ! 
 
 Beside some little grassy mound, 
 With clinging wild-flow rs drest, 
 
 Oft will some kneeling form be found, 
 By whelming grief opprest : 
 
 79 
 
BOCHIM. 
 
 Some must, like kingly David, weep 
 Above a sickly child: ( J ) 
 
 Some must, like faithful Rizpah, keep 
 Death-watch on mountain wild: ( 2 ) 
 
 Some o er their own deep-seated woes, 
 The flowing tears must shed ; 
 
 Whilst others, Christ-like, weep o er those, 
 Whose day of grace is fled. 
 
 The easily besetting sin 
 
 The secret, gnawing woe 
 
 These wring the grieving soul within, 
 And make the sad drops flow : 
 
 These drive us to the sinner s Friend, 
 These lift our thoughts above ; 
 
 In Him our dark forebodings end, 
 There grief is lost in love. 
 
 (1) II Sam. xii. 22. 
 
 (2) II Sam. xxi. 10. 
 
NO MORE DEATH. 
 
 (Rev. xxi. 4.) 
 
 There is a pallid spectre, ( ) 
 With swift but silent tread, 
 
 O er earth for ever moving, 
 And filling all with dread : 
 
 His person no man knoweth, 
 His form is never seen ; 
 
 But tears and groans of anguish 
 Proclaim where he hath been. 
 
 He climbs the park-girt palace, 
 Where monarchs dwell in state ; 
 
 Passes the marble portal 
 The sentry at the gate ; 
 
 And, lo ! a prince lies sleeping 
 Beneath his crimson pall, 
 
 Whilst sadly tears are falling 
 In hamlet and in hall. 
 
 (1) "Pallida Mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas 
 Kegumque turree." Hor. Lib. I. 4. 
 81 F 
 
NO MORE DEATH. 
 
 Through cottage porch he enters, 
 Where wreathing creepers cling, 
 
 Where, mid the merry sunshine, 
 The birds all gaily sing : 
 
 There Nature s sweetest incense 
 Is breathed upon the gale, 
 
 But, in a darken d chamber, 
 There lies an infant pale. 
 
 Oh, flow rs may bud and blossom, 
 The jasmine perfume fling, 
 
 The stream may murmur softly, 
 The wild-birds sweetly sing : 
 
 Their charms can never solace 
 The grieving spirit s pain ; 
 
 Their voices cannot waken 
 That form to life again ; 
 
 But some fond Rachel, weeping, 
 Must rend the startled air ; ( 
 
 Death ! hast thou no pity, 
 That thou could st enter there ? 
 
 (1) Matt, ii. 18. Jer. xxxi. 15. 
 
 82 
 
NO MORE DEATH. 
 
 Tims over earth s dark surface, 
 And o er the boundless main, 
 
 Glides on that noiseless spectre, 
 Tears ever in his train ; 
 
 And daily some new tomb-stone, 
 Or little grassy mound, 
 
 Some gurgling of the water, 
 Or dull and plashing sound, 
 
 Proclaims another mortal 
 
 Gone to his latest rest, 
 Beneath earth s sparkling dew-drops, 
 
 Or ocean s heaving breast. 
 
 Oh, for that blessed season 
 When saints shall rise again, 
 
 To.share a glorious kingdom, 
 Where Death shall never reign ! 
 
 Oh, for that happy region 
 Beyond his blighting breath, 
 
 Those bright and blissful mansions, 
 Where shall be "no more death !" 
 
THE AEOLIAN HARP. 
 
 " Hie windbloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, 
 but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one 
 that la born of the Spirit. "John iii. 8. 
 
 I placed a sweet .ZEolian lyre 
 
 My open window near ; 
 No music flow d at my desire, 
 
 Until a zephyr dear 
 Breath d softly on each tuneful string, 
 And made their sweet-ton d voices ring 
 
 Upon the listening ear. 
 
 My soul was silent bound in sin, 
 Till God s sweet Spirit came 
 
 Its dark and desert shrines within, 
 To wake, to thrill, to tame : 
 
 Now happy music soundeth there, 
 
 The music of believing prayer, 
 Pour d forth in Jesus name. 
 
 84 
 
THE COMING YEAR. 
 
 Oh, would that every spell-bound soul 
 Would crave that Spirit s breath, 
 
 To free from Satan s dark control, 
 And silence deep as death ! 
 
 Then, breathing forth their notes divine, 
 
 Earth would become one holy shrine, 
 The dome of Heav n beneath. 
 
 Alas ! that tuneless chords should jar 
 
 Mid that sweet melody ! 
 Born from above, (*) sin yet doth mar 
 
 Our converse with the sky : 
 But soon the hand of boundless Love 
 Shall each discordant string remove, 
 
 Till all is harmony. 
 
 (1) John. iii. 3. (Marginal reading " from above.") 
 85 
 
THE COMING YEAR. 
 
 "My days are swifter than a weaver s shuttle." Job vii. 6. 
 " So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto 
 wisdom." Psalm xc. 12. 
 
 Another year has glided o er, 
 
 Of mingled bliss and sorrow ; 
 Its beams and clouds return no more 
 
 To gild or shroud the morrow. 
 Tis gone ! tis gone beyond recall ! 
 
 Like nightly vision, vanished ; 
 Soon will its ling ring traces all, 
 
 By fresher scenes be banish d. 
 
 Fair flow rs will wreathe the new-raised tomb 
 
 Where some lov d form is sleeping, 
 And solace with their fragrant bloom 
 
 The hearts now sore with weeping : 
 Array d in smiles will be the cheek 
 
 Where Sorrow s rills are streaming ; 
 Whilst eyes, which deepest woe bespeak, 
 
 Will soon with joy be beaming. 
 
 86 
 
THE COMING YEAR. 
 
 Once more, o er all the verdant plain, 
 
 Throughout Earth s fragrant bowers, 
 Will Spring resume her transient reign, 
 
 And ope the budding flowers ; 
 Fair types of human hopes, whose smile 
 
 Deluded bosoms cherish, 
 Ah ! doom d, like them, to bloom awhile, 
 
 And then to fade and perish. 
 
 Next, Summer will display the charms, 
 
 As time is onward creeping; 
 And Autumn bare her sunburnt arms, 
 
 To gather in her reaping, 
 Ere Winter comes with hurrying feet 
 
 To veil the wreck of nature, 
 And, with her snowy winding-sheet, 
 
 To shroud each wither d feature. 
 
 Those anxious aims for fame and gain, 
 
 But form d to be defeated ; 
 That chequer d round of varied pain, 
 
 Again will be repeated, 
 Until, released, our heads have press d 
 
 The dreamless death-bed pillow, 
 Like weary sea-birds sunk to rest 
 
 On life s expended billow. 
 
 87 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 The warrior s pride the statesman s care- 
 Each sigh for pomp or pow r, 
 
 Will wake no answering echo there, 
 In that calm, peaceful hour ; 
 
 But each bright deed of faith and love, 
 Their holy radiance blending, 
 
 Will crown the saint, to realms above 
 On angel-wings ascending. 
 
 SEED-TIME. 
 
 " In the morning sow thy seed ; and in the evening withhold not thine 
 hand." Eccles. xi. J5. 
 
 " Blessed are ye that sow beside all waters." Isaiah xxxii. 20. 
 
 Life is thy seed-time, brother man, 
 
 The soil is ready and meet ; 
 The time before thee is but a span, 
 
 But the furrows are under thy feet. 
 Freely did st thou of thy Lord receive, 
 
 Mercy, and pity, and love ; 
 Freely, then, of thy fulness give, ( x ) 
 
 Sow now, and reap above ! 
 
 (1) 1 Matt. x. 8. 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 Gaze on those shivering sons of want, 
 
 Hungry, and chill, and bare, 
 With famish d eyes, with clothing scant, 
 
 And wild, neglected air : 
 Here scatter thy seed and it shall bring 
 
 Fruit to a hundred-fold ; 
 From deserts as barren as this shall spring 
 
 More than thy barns can hold. 
 
 See yon pale mother tending her charge, 
 
 With faded and care-worn cheek ; 
 Slender her means, her family large, 
 
 Her husband ailing and weak ; 
 She will not stoop to the beggar s trade, 
 
 But work on till she drop 
 A few seeds here of kindly aid, 
 
 Will yield thee a noble crop. 
 
 A felon lies in yon darken d cell, 
 
 Brooding in silence grim ; 
 To-morrow will ring his dying knell, 
 
 Hast thou no seed for him ? 
 Not a pitying tear ? not a word of hope ? 
 
 Not an interceding pray r ? 
 Before the grip of the strangling rope 
 
 Launches his spirit where ? 
 
 89 
 
SEED-TIME. 
 
 Go, Christian sower go bravely forth ! 
 
 Be love thy precious seed : 
 Go East and West ! go South and North ! 
 
 For pressing is the need ; 
 There are wounded spirits and hopeless breasts, 
 
 And cheeks ne er free from tears ; 
 There are minds where ignorance deeply rests, 
 
 Together with slavish fears : 
 Where er thou turnest thy wand ring feet, 
 
 Through this sad world below, 
 There is plenty of soil ready and meet 
 
 For that thou hast to sow. 
 
 Sow not thro a love of this world s pelf, 
 
 Nor for man s approving nod ; 
 Sow not through a paltry love of self, 
 
 But sow through a love to Grod ! 
 See, too, Brother, thy seed be cast 
 
 Not with a niggardly hand, 
 That thou may st reap, when thy toils are past, 
 
 On the plains of the promis d land. 
 
 90 
 
SEASONS OF PRAYER. 
 
 {t Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud ; and 
 He shall hear my voice." Psalm Iv. 17. 
 
 Bright beams the blushing morn, 
 
 The night has flown away ; 
 Fair flow rs the fields adorn, 
 
 The sunbeams brightly play ; 
 The lark s song sweet and clear, 
 
 Rings through the balmy air ; 
 Now, meekly drawing near, 
 
 How sweet the hour of pray r ! 
 
 Tis noon ! the drooping flowers 
 
 Look faint the brook is dry ; 
 The sun s exhausting powers 
 
 The face of Nature try ; 
 To yonder river s brink 
 
 The thirsting flocks repair : 
 So, when thy spirits sink, 
 
 Go, seek thy God in pray r ! 
 
 91 
 
UNDER THE SNOW. 
 
 Tis ev ning s holy hour ! 
 
 All Nature whispers peace ; 
 Closed is each dewy flow r 
 
 The world s loud murmurs cease ; 
 Now, in this calm so sweet, 
 
 When all around is fair, 
 Bow low at Jesus feet, 
 
 Pour forth thy soul in pray r ! 
 
 Thus in the morn of life, 
 
 And at its noon, and eve, 
 Whatever storms be rife, 
 
 Whatever make thee grieve, 
 Oft steal from earth away, 
 
 Its sorrow and its care, 
 And let each passing day 
 
 Be sanctified by prayer. 
 
 92 
 
UNDER THE SNOW/ 
 
 "Thou ehalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the 
 depths of the earth!" Psalm Ixxi. 20. 
 
 Under the snow four foot low 
 
 I laid a child to rest ; 
 Her form was chill, her lips were still 
 
 No pulse within her breast : 
 In her eye no light, and her brow as white 
 
 As the flow rs her fingers press d. 
 
 Under the snow four foot low 
 
 That tiny form was laid ; 
 The feeble ray of a winter day, 
 
 Above her lightly play d ; 
 And a little mound of frozen ground 
 
 Was all the tribute paid. 
 
 * The first child the author was called upon to inter, after the decease 
 of his own little one, was buried in the winter of the year 1860, remarkable 
 for its heavy falls of snow : the two circumstances became insensibly blended 
 iu his mind, as he wrote the following verses. 
 
 93 
 
UNDER THE SNOW. 
 
 Under the snow four foot low 
 
 I left that sleeping child ; 
 But Spring came round, with merry sound, 
 
 And the air was fresh and mild ; 
 The grass waved green, where the snow had been, 
 
 And birds sang sweet and wild : 
 
 Still, under the snow cold and low 
 
 She lies in my memory ; 
 For no earthly Spring can ever bring 
 
 My darling back to me : 
 I ne er can hear that voice so dear 
 
 That light step bounding free ! 
 
 Thus, under the snow, four foot low 
 
 That form still silent lies ; 
 But a Spring shall shine, and a voice divine 
 
 Shall one day bid it rise ; 
 So I will not weep, for the angels keep 
 
 That grave in their loving eyes. 
 
 When earth and its snow, beneath the glow 
 
 Of that spring, shall melt away, 
 That form shall rise beyond the skies, 
 
 And bask in Heaven s ray, 
 Shall re-unite with the spirit bright, 
 
 Which left it lifeless clay. 
 
 94 
 
IN THE TROUGH OF THE SEA." * 
 
 Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord." Psalm cxxx. i. 
 
 Days and nights in the c trough of the sea* 
 
 A great ship, lab ring, lay ; 
 Suns rose and set on the waves, but she 
 
 Bode not upon her way ; 
 Whilst the shadowy wings of Eternity 
 
 Brooded from day to day. 
 
 i 
 
 As stormy waves did round her leap, 
 What sights, what sounds were there ! 
 
 Low-muttered curses many and deep 
 Dark looks of wild despair ; 
 
 With pallid faces, e en in sleep, 
 Beaming with peace and pray r. 
 
 * Suggested by the disaster which befel the giant steamship, The Great 
 Eastern, in the month of September, AJD. 1861. 
 
 95 
 
"IN THE TROUGH OP THE SEA." 
 
 Days and nights in the trough of the sea, 9 
 
 Exposed to Ocean s rage, 
 Sunk in a state of misery, 
 
 Which naught could then assuage, 
 Each long day seem d like a century 
 
 Each gloomy night an age. 
 
 Days and nights in the trough of the sea 9 
 
 My spirit, lab ring, lay ; 
 Heav n seem d to have no smile for me, 
 
 And Hope no kindly ray ; 
 Wounded and bruis d, I could not see 
 
 A step of the onward way. 
 
 The troubled waters rose and roar d, 
 Clouds veiled the radiant sky ; 
 
 Where once its cheering light was pour d 
 I met Despair s dull eye ; 
 
 But I cried to Thee, my gracious Lord ! 
 And Thou did st hear my cry. 
 
 Thy loving smile the darkness broke, 
 
 Thy grace renew d my might, 
 And soon my spell-bound spirit woke 
 
 Beneath its cheering light ; 
 And now I stem, with a bolder stroke, 
 
 The billows, foaming white. 
 
" IN THE TROUGH OF THE SEA. 
 
 I see my weakness, my God ! 
 
 I see Thy might divine ; 
 I love the hand that grasps the rod 
 
 The face that would not shine ; 
 And I worship Him who the billows trod, 
 
 For the peace which now is mine. 
 
 I praise Thee, Lord, for every smile 
 
 Thou deemest good for me ; 
 Yes, and for every proving trial, 
 
 Which draws me nigh to Thee : 
 For I know Thou lov dst me even while, 
 
 I lay in * the trough of the sea ! 
 
 97 
 
"BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER S BURDENS. 
 
 Gal. vi. 2. 
 
 4 Bear ye one another s burdens, 
 
 Pilgrim-saints for Zion bound ! 
 Seek and crave no other guerdons, 
 
 But what in Jesus smiles are found. 
 
 When some bruised and fallen brother 
 Drops upon the world s highway, 
 
 Though scorn d and left by ev ry other, 
 Turn not ye your eyes away. 
 
 Let false, self-righteous worldlings cherish, 
 
 Coldness, selfishness and pride ; 
 Leave not ye a soul to perish 
 
 Pass not on the other side ! (1 ) 
 
 But, like Him, the loving Jesus 
 Who cares for all that breathe below, 
 
 And who from every sorrow frees us 
 Look kindly on a brother s woe. 
 
 Dispel his spirit s sinful blindness, 
 Soothe its wounds with oil and wine ; 
 
 Speak to him with words of kindness 
 Speak to him of grace divine. 
 
 (1) Luke x. 80. 
 
 98 
 
" BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER S BURDENS." 
 
 Pity his forlorn condition ; 
 
 Comfort, counsel, warn, entreat ; 
 Let it be your blessed mission 
 
 To lead him to the Saviour s feet. 
 
 Shun not homes though poor and lowly, 
 There true riches oft are stor d ; 
 
 Yet, however blest and holy, 
 Its inmates need a kindly word. 
 
 Poverty has many trials, 
 
 Often unbefriended stands ; 
 How welcome, mid its self-denials, 
 
 Feeling hearts and helping hands ! 
 
 Fly not spots where earthly sorrow 
 Where care and pining sickness reign ; 
 
 There sad or sick from thee may borrow 
 Balm to soothe their bitter pain. 
 
 Fly not scenes where deathless spirits 
 Leave their prison-house of clay 
 
 For realms in which the saint inherits 
 Glory that shall ne er decay : 
 
 99 
 
" BEAR YE ONE ANOTHER S BURDENS." 
 
 Where restless heads press dying pillows, 
 
 Dew d with penitential tears ; 
 Until, above sin s whelming billows, 
 
 Jesus loving form appears. 
 
 Shun not, then, these daily meetings 
 With poverty, disease, and death ; 
 
 These are times when friendly greetings 
 Come like Spring s reviving breath. 
 
 Oh, tis then words fitly spoken 
 
 Pierce the souls of those that roam, 
 And, when the cords of sin are broken, 
 Lead repentant wand rers home. 
 
 " Bear ye one another s burdens," 
 As this world ye travel thro ; 
 
 Seek not perishable guerdons 
 Bear, because He bore for you I 
 
 Cares and troubles shar d with others, 
 Sorrows cheer d with Christian love, 
 
 Make a commonwealth of brothers, 
 Such as dwell with Christ above. 
 100 
 
MY CHURCH. 
 
 " How dreadful is this place ! this is none other but the house of God, and this is 
 the gate of Heaven." Gen. xxviii. 17. 
 
 There is a spacious fane uprear d 
 
 In honour of the Lord, 
 Where He is pleased to summon me 
 
 To preach His gracious word : 
 To wear an ephod, and to lead 
 
 Those notes of praise and pray r, 
 "Which He himself vouchsafes to heed 
 
 From realms of upper air. 
 
 No architectural beauties grace 
 
 Its unpretending aisles, 
 No sculpture such as finds a place 
 
 In grand cathedral piles ; 
 No painted windows tint each ray 
 
 That plays athwart the floor, 
 No high-carv d cherubim display 
 
 Their wings above the door. 
 101 
 
MY CHURCH. 
 
 And yet I know it has its charms 
 
 In its good Master s eyes, 
 And trust it gathers in its arms, 
 
 Blest souls for yonder skies : 
 Oh ! may it prove like dews of even 
 
 To spirits worn and faint 
 A happy, long-sought gate of Heaven, 
 
 To many a weary saint ! 
 
 There, blessed Lord, we wait on Thee, 
 
 When Sabbath mornings rise ; 
 There craving spirits look to me, 
 
 With earnest, yearning eyes : 
 Full oft I tremble as I stand 
 
 Within those sacred walls 
 The sight of that assembled band 
 
 My very soul appals. 
 
 How shall I charge these, face to face, 
 
 To shun each hateful sin ? 
 When I still have so little grace 
 
 So much of guilt within : 
 Whilst in the wilderness I stray, 
 
 With faint and wavering tread, 
 How shall I lead these on the way ? 
 
 How fill these souls with bread ? 
 102 
 
SMILES AND TEARS. 
 
 My Saviour ! I will look to thee 
 
 Thou wilt my need supply ; 
 None e er can weak or empty be 
 
 When Thou art standing by : 
 From Thee will I, beloved Lord ! 
 
 The bread of life receive ( l ) 
 Low at thy feet, first hear the Word, 
 
 Then to thy people give. 
 
 SMILES AND TEARS. 
 
 " To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the 
 heaven. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time 
 t dance." Eccles.m. 1, 4. 
 
 Laugh when the skies are warm and bright ; 
 When the mind is free and the heart is light ; 
 When not a cloud looms on the sight ; 
 Laugh ! Laugh ! 
 
 Weep when the bloom of life hath fled ; 
 When the last sear leaf of hope is shed ; 
 When the cherished friends of youth lie dead ;- 
 Weep! Weep! 
 
 (1) Matt. xv. 36. 
 
 103 
 
Laugh when the joys of life are green ; 
 Weep when the pangs of grief are keen ; 
 Laugh and weep thro the chequer d scene ; 
 Laugh and weep ! 
 
 Laughing and weeping, must we go 
 O er the changeful face of earth below ; 
 Till the sunshine of Heav n around us glow, 
 Where none can weep ! 
 
 "HEART TREASURES." 
 
 " There is treasure to be desired, and oil, in the dwelling of the wise." Prov. 
 xxi. 20. 
 
 " The law of thy mouth is better unto me than thousands of gold and silver." 
 PSALM cxix. 72. 
 
 I would not yield these hopes of mine 
 
 The peace this heart hath known, 
 For all the wealth and pomp that shine 
 
 Around a monarch s throne ; 
 More sweetly they my griefs beguile, 
 
 And cheer my dreary way, 
 Than Pleasure s soft ensnaring smile, 
 
 Or proud Ambition s ray. 
 
 104 
 
"HEART TREASURES." 
 
 The regal crown may grace a brow 
 
 That aches with inward care ; 
 Rare gems may gleam on breasts of snow, 
 
 Dark temples of Despair ; 
 The beams of Pleasure shine awhile, 
 
 But only to betray ; 
 And who would seek Ambition s smile 
 
 For triumphs of a day ? 
 
 But hopes that lift the soul above 
 
 Sweet peace within the heart 
 The tokens of a Saviour s love 
 
 These never can depart : 
 The gloomier the path we tread, 
 
 The sweeter is their pow r : 
 And, oh, how bright the beams they shed 
 
 On life s last solemn hour ! 
 
 105 
 
THE PROTO-MARTYR. 
 
 " And they stoned Stephen, calling upon God, and saying, Lord Jesns 
 receive my spirit." Acts vii. 59. 
 
 Bleeding and crushed the martyr lies 
 
 The frowning rock beneath, 
 With face upturned to yonder skies, 
 
 And still, suspended breath ; 
 But peace and joy are with him now, 
 The light of Heaven gleams on his brow, 
 
 All damp with dews of death. 
 
 Stern eyes glare on that mangled form 
 Fierce shouts rise on the air ; 
 
 He heedeth not the angry storm 
 Which rages round him there : 
 
 He sees the throng the angel-throng ; 
 
 His ears are full of holy song 
 His soul is full of pray r ! 
 
 Softly his spirit soars away, 
 And wings its flight on high ; 
 
 He sinks upon his couch of clay, 
 ? Mid this rude lullaby, 
 
 106 
 
THE PHOTO-MARTYR. 
 
 Wrapt in a sleep as sweet and mild 
 
 As e er he slumber d, when a child, 
 
 Beneath his mother s eye. ( 1 ) 
 
 To early tomb that corpse is borne 
 
 With loving kindness drest ; 
 Whilst many a Christian friend, forlorn, 
 
 Weeps sadly on his breast ; ( 2 ) 
 Yes, many are the tear-drops shed, 
 And softly is the dark earth spread 
 
 Above his place of rest. 
 
 First on the bright, but crimson page 
 
 Of martyr d men of God, 
 Who, slain for Christ, in every age 
 
 Have cried from earth s dark sod ! 
 Many another, faint and worn, 
 Mangled and crushed, defaced and torn, 
 
 Must tread where thou hast trod. 
 
 When earth s sharp trials fall thick on me, 
 
 And break my spirit down, 
 God give me grace to think of thee, 
 
 And dare the world s dark frown ! 
 God grant me steadfast to abide, 
 That I may worship at thy side, 
 
 And wear the saintly crown ! 
 
 (1) Acts vii. 60. 
 
 (2) Acts viii. 2. 
 
 107 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS.* 
 
 When I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me." Micah vii. 
 
 Father, you cannot bear to see 
 
 These dim and sightless eyes ; 
 It pains you when you think of me 
 
 The gloom that on me lies : 
 
 I bless you for your loving care, 
 Your words and accents kind ; 
 
 But banish doubt and dark despair, 
 Mourn not that I am blind. 
 
 Tis true I cannot see the mild, 
 Bright sun that glows above 
 
 The grove I play d in when a child 
 The flow rs I used to love : 
 
 * These verses were suggested by several most interesting interviews 
 which the Author held with a member of his flock, who had been afflicted 
 with blindness ; they by no means exaggerate the spiritual and more than 
 resigned tone of her mind. 
 
 108 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 
 
 Tis true these eyes will ne er again 
 Behold the babbling brook 
 
 The wild vine cross the window-pane- 
 My fav rite garden nook. 
 
 A settled darkness hides from me 
 
 The old familiar room, 
 In which I grew from infancy 
 
 To happy girlhood s bloom : 
 
 But all my spirit held most dear 
 Is stamp d upon my mind, 
 
 So deep, so vivid, and so clear, 
 I cannot deem me blind ! 
 
 To me the flow rs are ever fair, 
 Those beams have never paled ; 
 
 Your faces are as free from care, 
 As when my sight was veil d : 
 
 Tis merciful it should be so ! 
 
 T would pain me could I see 
 The traces of your silent woe, 
 
 Or anxious fears for me. 
 
 109 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 
 Though gloom my outward vision shrouds, 
 
 A clear and inward light 
 Has scatter d all the murky clouds, 
 Which dimm d my spirit s sight : 
 
 I see myself, I see my God, 
 
 So plainly, clearly now, 
 I can but bless the chast ning rod 
 
 Which makes me meekly bow. 
 
 I see I see my fearful guilt, 
 
 As ne er I saw before ; 
 My scorn for blood by Jesus spilt 
 
 For all the pangs he bore : 
 
 I see my vanity and pride, 
 My cold and selfish ways ; 
 
 His mercy leaves no cloud to hide 
 These from my quicken d gaze. 
 
 But whilst I thus with tears behold 
 This stain d, polluted soul, 
 
 And see the bitter Past unfold 
 Its dark and blotted scroll : 
 no 
 
LIGHT IN DARKNESS. 
 
 Although an erring child, I see 
 
 In God a Father kind, 
 Who yearns to save and welcome me,- 
 
 Oh, no, I am not blind ! 
 
 I know that I have Jesus love 
 
 His pardon for my sin ; 
 He whispers me of bliss above, 
 
 He gives me peace within. 
 
 No words of mine can e er declare 
 What joys surround me now, 
 
 But can you mark one shade of care 
 Upon this happy brow ? 
 
 Fear not, my father dear, for me, 
 A dark world doom d to tread, 
 
 You see not what your child can see 
 Of brightness over-head : 
 
 Believe that He who turns my night 
 To fair and peaceful day, 
 
 Will ever keep me in His sight, 
 Nor let His blind one stray, 
 ill 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 Grieve not, then, o er thy sightless child. 
 
 Restrain thy flowing tears ; 
 Hers is a lot by heaven beguil d, 
 
 And void of earthly fears : 
 
 But weep for those who, having eyes, 
 See not the things of God ; 
 
 Who leave the pathway to the skies, 
 Neglected and untrod ! 
 
 UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 " They lifted up their voice to God with one accord. And when they had 
 prayed, the place was shaken where they were assembled together ; and they 
 were all filled with the Holy Ghost." Acts iv. 24, 31. 
 
 If he whom music doth inspire, 
 Touch but one string of tuneful lyre, 
 How doth its tender tribute greet 
 The list ning ear with music sweet ! 
 Whilst each vibration seems to thrill 
 The eager soul, and gently still, 
 With accents soft, the waves of care 
 Which roll d their whelming waters there : 
 
 112 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 But when his skilful hand he flings 
 Across a multitude of strings, 
 And all their tuneful notes combine, 
 Then, oh, what harmony divine ! 
 How doth it stir the silent deep 
 Where all our tend rest feelings sleep, 
 Bid springs gush forth then first unseal d, 
 And sympathies ne er yet reveal d, 
 Which shed their influence on the soul, 
 And bid us weep beyond control ; 
 Till on the tide of gushing tears 
 A thousand dark and anxious fears, 
 With yearnings, not unmix d with pain, 
 Are swept away, and joy doth reign ! 
 
 Tis thus, when God s blest Spirit breaks 
 Upon a sin-bound soul, and wakes 
 The music of believing pray r, 
 The Father bends from upper air ! 
 Those broken accents, new desires, 
 A sense of sinfulness inspires ; 
 Those rapt, ecstatic words which tell 
 Of joys ineffable that swell 
 The bosom of the child of God, 
 Who by the Saviour s side hath trod, 
 Each individual note of pray r 
 Wakes a responsive rapture there, 
 
 113 H 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 As He, with yearning heart doth bound 
 To clasp a child, once lost, now found : 
 Or as He sees, with tender thrill, 
 One, long beloved, draw nearer still. 
 
 But if our God doth deem so sweet, 
 Those spirit utt rances which greet 
 His loving ear from one full soul, 
 When freed from sin s accurs d control, 
 How must He long and love to hear 
 When goodly multitudes draw near, 
 And, with one voice and one accord, 
 Pour forth their wants before their Lord ! 
 Beseeching, with united cry, 
 Rich blessings from His throne on high. 
 He leans towards that kneeling throng, 
 Their burden, dear as angels song, 
 Pierces the gloomy pall of Night, 
 Climbs swiftly up the starry height, 
 Enters the holiest above, 
 And wakens all a Father s love. 
 
 May all the Church, in union sweet, 
 Thus oft before Jehovah meet ; 
 Not merely from her altars lone, 
 May she with pray rs besiege His throne : 
 - 114 
 
UNITED PRAYER. 
 
 But at one common altar raise 
 Such hecatombs of pray r and praise, 
 As shall bid Satan turn and flee, 
 And fill all Heav n with minstrelsy ! 
 
 Oh ! ere that savor yet can rise 
 Beyond the over-arching skies. 
 Before those words can reach His ear, 
 That gracious God will haste to hear ; 
 Will rend the heavens and come down^ 
 His Church with lasting glory crown ; 
 Will ne er permit her light to fail, 
 Nor let the gates of hell prevail : 
 Will bind around her radiant brow 
 Wreaths that shall bloom resplendent now, 
 But lovelier glow in that pure clime, 
 Where blighting sin and with ring Time 
 No more can injure or defile, 
 Or rob her of the Bridegroom s smile. 
 
 115 
 
SPIRITUAL LONGINGS. 
 
 We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened : not for that we 
 would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed 
 p of life." 2 Cor. v. 4. 
 
 When shall I see my Saviour king, 
 
 On His all-glorious throne, 
 And hear the bright-wing d angels sing 
 
 Sweet songs, on earth unknown ? 
 When shall I see the white-rob d saints, 
 
 Befere him, radiant, stand, 
 A crown on ev ry beaming brow, 
 
 A palm in ev ry hand ? 
 When shall I see that Father s face, 
 
 So yearn d for, and so dear ? 
 When shall I once again embrace 
 
 The friends who cheer d me here ? 
 
 Be still, my longing soul ! Be still ! 
 
 Await the solemn hour 
 When He, who governs all at will, 
 
 Shall speak to thee in pow r ; 
 
 116 
 
SPIRITUAL LONGINGS. 
 
 Shall burst the chains that bind to earth, 
 
 And bid thee soar away 
 To that blest home of thy new birth, 
 
 Where shines eternal day. 
 Be still, my longing soul ! Be still ! 
 
 Be watchful unto pray r ! 
 Bow meekly to thy Saviour s will, 
 
 And thou shalt see him there. 
 
 Thine ears shall catch such strains as thrill 
 
 No earth-bound souls below ; 
 Such joys thy yearning heart shall fill, 
 
 As mortals cannot know : 
 The strains of Heav n, so sweet so clear, 
 
 Its scenes so dazzling bright, 
 These are too high for earthly ear, 
 
 Too pure for earthly sight ! 
 But when thou art by Jesus side, 
 
 Array d in living light, 
 Then, longing soul, how full the tide 
 
 Of exquisite delight ! 
 
 117 
 
DAYS THAT ARE GONE. 
 
 " My days are swifter than a post: they flee away, they see no good. They 
 are passed away as the swift ships : as the eagle that hasteth to the prey." 
 Job ix. 25, 26. 
 
 Why should ye mourn o er the days that are gone ? 
 
 Look hopefully on to the morrow : 
 Tears must flow on till existence is done, 
 
 For Earth is a temple of Sorrow ! 
 
 Why should ye mourn o er the days that are gone, 
 Who in beauty and youth are declining ? 
 
 Tis the hand of your Father that beckons you on, 
 His love o er your pathway is shining ! 
 
 Why should ye mourn o er the days that are gone, 
 Whose heads are o er-silver d with age ? 
 
 Wish not o er life s volume to linger so long, 
 To pause o er its last dreary page ! 
 
 Why should ye mourn o er the days that are gone, 
 Whose hearts pain and anguish have riven ? 
 
 There s a balm that will soothe, there s a bliss to atone, 
 There s a peace that s unbroken in Heaven ! 
 
 118 
 
THE OLD MAN S GOD. 
 
 Why should ye mourn o er the days that are gone, 
 
 Who in Piety s footsteps have trod ? 
 Each day, o er thy head as it swiftly hath flown, 
 
 Hath brought thee more near to thy Grod ! 
 
 Then mourn not o er days that are vanish d and gone, 
 Though they fair and unclouded were given, 
 
 The brightest of beams that on earth ever shone 
 Is gloom to the glory of Heaven. 
 
 THE OLD MAN S GOD. 
 
 "Even to your old age I am he; and even to hoar hairs will I carry 
 you. /sat. xlvi. 4. 
 
 I am weary and old, and wither d and grey ; 
 My sap and vigor have pass d away ; 
 I stand, like a leafless, desolate tree ; 
 For the world has no need, no thought of me. 
 But there was a time, when supple and strong, 
 I rose with the sun, and my cheery song 
 The silence deep of the forest broke, 
 As the tall trees fell at my sturdy stroke. 
 
 119 
 
THE OLD MAN S GOD. 
 
 There was a time when I ask d no aid 
 To earn my own and my children s bread ; 
 When I almost scorn d the aged and weak, 
 As I granted the boon they came to seek : 
 But, alas ! I have lived long enough to see 
 That increasing years bring infirmity ; 
 I have felt in my turn that the world is cold, 
 And cares little or naught for the feeble and old. 
 
 The hands that have cut the forest down, 
 
 Oft reap not the sheaves which the clearing crown ; 
 
 The eyes that have watch d the clicking loom, 
 
 From the grey of dawn to the evening s gloom. 
 
 Oft look in vain for their daily bread, 
 
 And a pillow to rest a hoary head ; 
 
 For them the toil, and the failing health, 
 
 For another the pleasure and pomp of wealth. 
 
 As long as the body can slave away, 
 There is plenty of toil and a trifle of pay ; 
 But when the vigor of life is sped, 
 Who cares where the pauper gets his bread ? 
 He may live on the road and lie in a ditch, 
 His withered old wife may starve or stitch ; 
 The labour of years has broken his back, 
 And who heeds what becomes of a worn out hack ? 
 120 
 
THE OLD MAN S GOD. 
 
 God ! I had lain me down and died, 
 Years, years ago, by the lone wayside ; 
 
 1 had lain me down in sheer despair, 
 
 Were it not that I felt that Thou wert there ; 
 Were it not for the comfort and peace I found 
 In Thee, when the skies were dark around ; 
 Were it not for the hopes which fill d my breast 
 Of the home where the weary may find a rest. 
 
 I bow d at Thy feet, with a heart defiled 
 With a thousand sins, but thou hast smiled 
 By night and by day on my lonely way, 
 And kindlier still as my locks grew grey. 
 Then, what is the scorn of the world to me ? 
 What are its gloom, and its penury ? 
 When I can look up, from a couch on the sod, 
 With faith and hope, to the old man s God. 
 
 121 
 
ON TO GLORY! 
 
 " I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be 
 inpared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." Rom. viii. 18. 
 
 On to glory ! On to glory ! 
 Not where battle-fields are gory, 
 
 And heaps of slain defile the ground ; 
 Not where forms in death are sleeping 
 Not where broken hearts are weeping, 
 
 And greedy vultures hover round. 
 
 On to glory ! On to glory ! 
 
 Where HeavVs high records tell the story, 
 
 Where angel-hands the victor crown ; 
 Where the hosts of Hell are flying, 
 Where Death himself is now a dying, 
 
 And Satan s hurl d to darkness down. 
 
 On to glory ! On to glory ! 
 
 Where time has waxen old and hoary, 
 
 And sunk with Earth into decay ; 
 But where the honor which is given 
 By Jesus to his saints in Heaven, 
 
 Beams more resplendent day by day. 
 122 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 He bringcth them unto their desired haven." Psalm cvii. 30. 
 
 Homeward bound ! Homeward bound ! 
 
 Hark to the thrilling cry ! 
 The joyful sound fast spreads around, 
 
 And rends the lofty sky: 
 The roughest seaman mid us found 
 
 Has not an eyelid dry. 
 
 The brave ship s weather d many a gale, 
 
 And many a raging sea, 
 When the fierce blasts rent her swelling sail 
 
 And curb d her spirit free, 
 Mid foaming reefs, where cheeks grew pale 
 
 At thought of Eternity. 
 
 But now the storms are all forgot, 
 
 And Ocean s angry foam, 
 Has only endeared the native spot 
 
 To the hearts of those that roam ; 
 Glad dreams now brighten the sailor s cot 
 
 His bark is bound for home. 
 
 123 
 
HOMEWARD BOUND. 
 
 In vain the fragrant spice-groves fling 
 
 Their perfume o er the tide ; 
 In vain the sparkling ripples sing 
 
 Of the goodly pearls they hide ; 
 Nor earth nor sea a bribe can bring 
 
 To tempt our bark aside ! 
 
 Tis thus the storm-beat Christian sails 
 
 The changeful sea of life, 
 He drifts at the will of the furious gales 
 
 When tempests dark are rife ; 
 And often his very spirit quails 
 
 At the roar of the angry strife. 
 
 But hark ! the cry is c Homeward bound ! 
 
 And, see, his visage now 
 Grows bright beneath the thrilling sound, 
 
 Joy beams upon his brow : 
 He scatters the waves of care aside, 
 
 Like the bark, with cleaving prow. 
 
 4 Homeward bound ! Homeward bound P 
 
 My soul, be this thy cry ! 
 Swerve not one inch for their angry sound 
 
 When the storms of life sweep by ; 
 But steer for the light which beams around 
 
 Thy Father s home on high ! 
 
 124 
 
TO-BAY AND TO-MORROW. 
 
 Thou art my hope in the day of evil." JER. xvu. 17. 
 
 To-day is full of care : 
 To-morrow, when it shines, 
 Shall smooth those wrinkled lines 
 
 Each brow doth bear ; 
 For when on Jesus breast 
 The weary head shall rest, 
 
 Sweet peace is there. 
 
 To-day sin weaves its chain : 
 To-morrow, freed from all 
 Its misery and thrall, 
 
 Freedom shall reign. 
 The soul, wash d in the flood 
 Of sinless Jesus blood, 
 
 Shall know no stain ! 
 
 125 
 
TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 
 
 To-day we mourners weep : 
 To-morrow hath no tears! (*) 
 No gloomy doubts no fears 
 
 O er us can sweep : 
 Clasp d in their arms above, 
 The graves of those we love 
 
 No tear-drops steep. 
 
 To-day we sow the soil : 
 To-morrow we shall reap, 
 If, fainting not, we keep 
 
 True to our toil: ( 2 ) 
 When o er the boundless plains 
 The golden harvest reigns, 
 
 How rich the spoil ! 
 
 To-day we mortals die : 
 To-morrow knows no death ( 3 ) 
 Its foul and deadly breath 
 
 Blights not on high ; 
 Each flow r transplanted there 
 Shall bloom for ever fair, 
 
 Nor droop nor die ! 
 
 (1) Rev. vii. 17. 
 
 (2) Gal, vi. 9. (3) Rev. xxi. 4. 
 
 126 
 
DEPARTING IN PEACE. 
 
 " Lord now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace." Lake ii. 29. 
 
 The dawn of my life broke in brightness and beauty, 
 Twas beaming with sunshine and fragrant with flow rs ; 
 
 Twas a scene of enjoyment, for pleasure seem d duty, 
 And light-hearted Mirth sped the lingering hours. 
 
 But soon the fair morn was by darkness o erclouded, 
 And sin left its stains mid its brightness and bloom ; 
 
 Its pleasures were gone, and its happiness shrouded, 
 Its mirth turn d to sorrow, its sunshine to gloom. 
 
 The toys of my childhood no longer delighted 
 
 The flow rs that enraptur d now charm d me in vain ; 
 
 The haunts I once loved were forsaken and slighted 
 The scenes that brought pleasure now fill d me with pain : 
 
 For the friends of my youth who once sported beside me, 
 
 Had left me alone in my wilderness-way ; 
 Some lived to neglect me, some learned to deride me, 
 
 And others were torn, like heart-tendrils, away. 
 
 127 
 
DEPARTING IN PEACE. 
 
 Thus my spirit grew hard as I sadly detected 
 
 So little on earth of affection and truth ; 
 Till my conscience within show d how /had neglected, 
 
 And wander d away from the Guide of my youth. 
 
 Then I sorrow d no more o er the ties He had broken, 
 O er the twilight around me, so silent and dim ; 
 
 But I turn d to that God who in mercy had spoken, 
 And shatter d the fetters which kept me from Him. 
 
 Oh, what are earth s friendships, and sunbeams, and flow rs, 
 To the smile of that Saviour my spirit hath found ? 
 
 How sad and how dark are her sunniest hours 
 To the gladness and glory which Jesus surround ! 
 
 Praise God for the brightness of life s early dawning ; 
 
 Praise Him who that brightness thought fit to decrease ; 
 ? Twas good I should pass thro the valley of mourning, 
 
 That my soul might depart to my Saviour in peace. 
 
 128 
 
LOOKING FOR THE EVENING. 
 
 * Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth ? are not his days also 
 like the days of an hireling ? As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, 
 and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work ; So am I made to 
 possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me. Job 
 vii. 1, 2, 3. 
 
 Hireling ! why that constant gazing 
 
 Upward to the radiant sky ? 
 See, the mid-day sun is blazing 
 
 Fiercely from its throne on high : 
 Toil and heat must yet befall thee 
 
 Much thy soul must be opprest, 
 Ere the length ning shadows call thee 
 
 To thy recompense and rest. 
 
 Earnestly and uncomplaining, 
 
 Labor thine appointed hour ; 
 Ev ry idle wish restraining, 
 
 Putting forth thy utmost pow r : 
 Labor on a little longer 
 
 Toil as in thy Master s sight ; 
 Faith shall make thy spirit stronger 
 
 Prayer shall make thy burden light. 
 
 129 i 
 
 
LOOKING FOR THE EVENING. 
 
 Think of Him who watches o er thee 
 
 With a Father s yearning love ; 
 Ponder on the rest before thee 
 
 In that Father s home above : 
 Think how Christ himself will meet thee, 
 
 Tenderness in look and voice, 
 How those long-lost friends will greet thee, 
 
 Who around his throne rejoice. 
 
 Soon shall sunbeams, ling ring brightly, 
 
 Crimson yonder distant hill ; 
 Ev ning zephyrs, breathing lightly, 
 
 Thro the whisp ring groves shall thrill : 
 Soon shall twilight mists be blended 
 
 O er the meadows smiling now ; 
 Soon shalt thou, thy labour ended, 
 
 Wring the moisture from thy brow. 
 
 Hireling, see ! the shadows lengthen ! 
 
 Darkness o er the landscape low rs ! 
 May the Holy Spirit strengthen 
 
 For life s solemn closing hours ! 
 Hireling ! happy bove all measure, 
 
 Now thy recompense receive ; 
 For tears and toil, delight and pleasure 
 
 Shall thy heav nly Master give. 
 
 130 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 " Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. 
 Psalm, xxx. 5. 
 
 Deep was the night of ignorance, 
 My spirit which confined ; 
 
 Wisdom divine no kindling glance 
 Shed o er this darken d mind : 
 
 But, lo ! the morning beameth now, 
 
 With light and truth around her brow 
 In living chaplets twined. 
 
 Dreary the painful night of sin, 
 Which made my bosom sigh ; 
 
 No holiness could bloom within 
 The fount of joy was dry : 
 
 But, with the morning s crimson flame, 
 
 God s holy, blessed Spirit came 
 To cleanse and sanctify. 
 
 131 
 
NIGHT AND MORNING. 
 
 Dreadful the gloomy night of death, 
 
 When soul and body part ; 
 When fails the feeble, flutt ring breath, 
 
 And stops the throbbing heart : 
 But soon the morning light shall break 
 On Earth s green graves, the dead to wake 
 
 To heal the mourner s smart. 
 
 The night of ignorance is past 
 
 The night of ski is done ! 
 The night of death deepest and last 
 
 Is hast ning swiftly on ; 
 Tis past ! 0, bliss ! beyond the skies, 
 I see the endless morning rise 
 
 Rejoice, all night is gone ! 
 
 132 
 
PISGAH. 
 
 " Get thee up into the top of Pisgah, and lift up thine eyes westward, and 
 northward, and southward, and eastward, and behold it with thine eyes : for 
 thou shalt not go over this Jordan." Deut. iii. 27. 
 
 A lone and hoary pilgrim looks 
 Forth from a mountain s brow ; 
 
 He marks the silver-shining brooks 
 Which thread the plains below : 
 
 He sees the golden sunshine gleam 
 
 Upon the fleet and ample stream (*) 
 Where Jordan s waters flow. 
 
 Beyond, the purple-cluster d vine, 
 Rich-laden, prostrate lies ; 
 
 There fertile valleys laugh and shine, 
 And feath ry palm-trees rise ; 
 
 There, fringing Lebanon s far height, 
 
 Tall cedars stand, a goodly sight, 
 And tow r to yonder skies. 
 
 (1) Josh. iii. 15. 
 
 133 
 
PISGAH. 
 
 He looks but sorrow bows his head 
 
 Sad, yet resign d his air ; 
 He may but view, he may not tread 
 
 That promised region fair : 
 Others shall see those waters part 
 Others shall cross with swelling heart ( 2 ) 
 
 But he will not be there ! 
 
 An unknown sepulchre must hide 
 His mouldering remains ; ( 3 ) 
 
 There dews shall fall at eventide 
 Early and latter rains ; 
 
 But Friendship s tears shall glitter not 
 
 Above that lone, mysterious spot, 
 Where solemn silence reigns. 
 
 aged pilgrim, that fair strand 
 Which glads thy failing sight, 
 
 But typifies the Heav nly land 
 Which sin can never blight ; 
 
 There, in a better, purer clime, 
 
 Freed from the guilt and care of Time, 
 Thy day shall know no night. ( 4 ) 
 
 (2) Josh. iii. 16. (3) Deut. xxxiv. 6. 
 (4) Rev. xxi. 25, and xxii. 5. 
 
 134 
 
PISGAH. 
 
 Thus, often, at the eve of life, 
 
 Before the yawning tomb 
 Closes the Christian s weary strife, 
 
 And wraps the world in gloom ; 
 God plants the soul on some bold height, 
 And gives it glorious visions bright 
 
 Of its celestial home : 
 
 And, child of God ! if He deny 
 
 A goodly portion here, 
 Climb Pisgah s summit, steep and high, 
 
 And look to yonder sphere ; 
 Behold that everlasting plain, 
 Where bliss, and peace, and glory reign, 
 
 And blush for ev ry tear. 
 
 135 
 
THE PROMISED LAND. 
 
 " When thou hast eaten and art full, then thou shalt bless the Lord thy 
 God for the good land which he hath given thee." Deuter. viii. 10. 
 
 We ve trod this earthly wilderness 
 
 For many weary years, 
 We ve tasted Marah s bitterness, ( J ) 
 
 And wept unnumber d tears ; 
 But now we re crossing Jordan s stream, 
 
 A glad, triumphant band, 
 And soon shall share the joys that beam 
 
 In Canaan s promised land. 
 
 We fainted for the water-spring, 
 
 A parch d and thirsty flock, 
 But God refreshing streams did bring 
 
 From out the cloven rock ; ( 2 ) 
 And when our hungry souls did crave 
 
 The true and living bread, 
 His mercy heav nly manna gave 
 
 His famish d people fed. ( 3 ) 
 
 (1) Exod. xv. 23. 
 
 (2) Exod. xvii. 6. and Num. xx. 11. 
 
 (3) Exod. xvi. 14, 15. 
 
 136 
 
THE PROMISED LAND. 
 
 Our shoes and garments failed us not, 
 
 Through all the toilsome way ; ( 4 ) 
 His loving-kindness ne er forgot 
 
 Our need from day to day ; 
 And often, when the flame of faith 
 
 Would flicker, pale, and wane, 
 His Spirit, with reviving breath, 
 
 Would fan that flame again. 
 
 As doth a father, full of love, 
 
 Watch o er a wayward child, 
 So watch d He o er us from above, 
 
 Though weak and sin-defil d ; 
 Forgiving all our murmurings 
 
 Our selfishness, and sin, 
 His saints to Canaan s shore he brings, 
 
 And bids them enter in. 
 
 Adieu, thou weary wilderness ! 
 
 Our home for many years ; 
 Adieu, to Marah s bitterness ! 
 
 Adieu to doubts and tears ! 
 Soon soon, across death s chilly stream, 
 
 Our ransom d souls shall stand, 
 And share the joy and peace that beam 
 
 In Canaan s promised land. 
 
 (4) Deut. xxix. 5. 
 
 13? 
 
" IS IT WELL ? " 
 
 Ie it well with th child? And sh anfiwered/It is well." 2 Kings iv. 26. 
 
 pilgrim ! I have heard thy tuneful lyre 
 Oft pour upon the night a thrilling strain, 
 
 Which seemed thy fainting spirit to inspire 
 
 Throughout its conflict with this world of pain : 
 
 Once more, before thy nerveless fingers fail, 
 
 Oh, let it breathe upon the passing gale ! 
 
 Is it well ? 
 
 Thy home and scenes long cherish d pass away ; 
 
 The forms of weeping friends fade from thy view ; 
 Where yonder crimson sunbeams lightly play, 
 
 There is an open grave, tis dug for you ! 
 Tears will bedew it oft, and flowerets fair 
 Will bloom in fragrant beauty but declare 
 
 Is it well ? 
 
 138 
 
"IS IT WELL?" 
 
 Pilgrim ! thy heavy head sinks wearily 
 
 Thy closing eyes look filmy, dull, and dim ; 
 
 Thy parting breath comes short and painfully 
 Above thy pillow bends a phantom grim : 
 
 Thy long and toilsome pilgrimage is past 
 
 Oh ! say, lest that deep breath should be thy last,- 
 
 Is it well ? 
 
 See, thou art sinking neath the rising surge 
 
 Of death s untried, unfathomable sea ; 
 Her dark and restless waves a mournful dirge, 
 
 With melancholy cadence, sing for thee : 
 Oh, ere those rising billows bove thee roll, 
 Say, I beseech thee, say, departing soul ! 
 
 Is it well ? 
 
 " At peace through Christ, no earthly lyre can tell 
 
 The ecstacy of bliss which thrills me now ; 
 Heav n s highest joys my heaving bosom swell 
 
 Its wreaths of glory press upon my brow: 
 Though home and weeping friends no more I see, 
 A home no grief can cloud is waiting me : 
 
 It is well ! 
 
 139 
 
"IS IT WELL?" 
 
 " Yes, I am weary ; but on Jesus breast 
 
 I can this aching head lay gently down : 
 Toilsome the path, but oh, how sweet the rest ! 
 
 How passing beautiful the fadeless crown ! 
 My grave is meet for me, I for my grave ; 
 He bids me come who died to bless and save : 
 Death s dark ning waves may round me surge and sing, 
 Fast to the Living Rock my soul doth cling : 
 
 It is well!" 
 
 140 
 
DETACHED POEMS. 
 
DETACHED POEMS. 
 
 THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 " Now when He came nigh to the gate of the city, behold, there was a 
 dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow ; 
 and much people of the city was with her." Luke vii. 12. 
 
 The scene was fair, as when o er Eden s bowers 
 The sun first shone upon the new-born flowers, 
 And youthful Nature glow d beneath his eye 
 In all the charms of pristine purity. 
 The earth, array d in Summer s gorgeous dress, 
 Blush d, like a bride, with conscious loveliness, 
 Whom twining flowers with varied bloom enwreathe, 
 And balmy odours round her person breathe. 
 The azure sky shone tranquilly and pure, 
 Nor did the gloom of passing cloud obscure 
 The radiant lustre of the orb of day, 
 Which lit the landscape with its glorious ray ; 
 
 143 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 Kiss d the fair streamlet as it stole along, 
 Breathing in accents soft its murm ring song, 
 Till each bright ripple, as it onward roll d, 
 Bore on its crest a sparkling fringe of gold ; 
 Whilst feather d choristers, from vocal throats, 
 Pour d forth on air their sweet, melodious notes, 
 Which perfum d zephyrs wafted high above, 
 A grateful anthem to the God of love. 
 
 But Nain was sad, though all was peace on high, 
 And pity dimm d each sympathizing eye ; 
 A form belov d from earth had passed away, 
 A widow d parent s only hope and stay. 
 From out the city pour d the sombre train, 
 And wound its way across the smiling plain ; 
 With solemn movement, and with muffled tread, 
 They slowly bare him to his earthy bed. 
 There were sad looks around that lowly bier, 
 To many hearts that silent form was dear ; 
 Full many a sob burst from each kindred breast, 
 Full many a cheek in sorrow s garb was drest. 
 Yet was there one, bound by a closer tie, 
 Whose very soul seem d wrung with agony ; 
 Whose pallid brow and heav n-directed glance 
 Pourtray d a grief too deep for utterance : 
 Of all earth s loves her s was the purest flame, 
 To mourn a son that widow d mother came. 
 
 144 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 Declin d he with a lengthen d life s decay, 
 
 His features wither d, and his thin locks grey, 
 
 His tott ring frame by age and weakness bent, 
 
 His senses numb d, his failing vigour spent ? 
 
 Fell he, as Nature s fading leaves do fall, 
 
 When milder climes the swallows southward call ; 
 
 When chilly winds and weather damp and drear, 
 
 Proclaim, with voice distinct, the winter near ? 
 
 Ah, no ! that form was yet unmarr d by Time, 
 
 Yet unexpanded into manhood s prime. 
 
 He scarce had spent a third of that brief span 
 
 Which wisely bounds the pilgrimage of man ; 
 
 Before him still, veil d in the future, lay 
 
 An unknown space, which Hope s inviting ray 
 
 Fill d up with pictures, welcome to the eyes, 
 
 Of earthly bliss and converse with the skies ; 
 
 Pictures and promises too bright for Time, 
 
 And only realized in purer clime. 
 
 Thus in the very vigour of his life, 
 
 When, full of hope, he armed him for the strife, 
 
 Upon the goodly prospect fell a cloud, 
 
 And Death and darkness wrapt him in their shroud. 
 
 With what deep joy that mother hail d his birth ! 
 To her there was not such a babe on earth ; 
 So soft, so pure, so innocent and fair, 
 Yes, ev ry beauty seemed concentred there. 
 
 145 K 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 Fondly she gazed with love-illumin d eyes, 
 
 And view d each morn fresh dawning charms arise ; 
 
 Bedew d him oft with sweetest tears of joy, 
 
 As tender vigils midnight hours employ ; 
 
 And fervent pray rs, faith-winged, ascend above, 
 
 Invoking thence a watchful Father s love, 
 
 That as the child advanced into the youth, 
 
 He still might seek, and serve, and love the truth. 
 
 And when God summon d from her side to part, 
 The dear companion of her home and heart, 
 And left her weak, unaided womanhood 
 Alone to battle with the world s dark flood ; 
 E en then, within the cup her lips must press, 
 A branch of love allay d its bitterness: ( 1 ) 
 The dead yet lived in his surviving son, 
 Husband and child she now embraced in one ; 
 And in her offspring, suffered to remain, 
 She found a balm to soothe her spirit s pain. 
 For as the soul, of one lov d thing bereft, 
 Clings closer still round those which yet are left, 
 So these two treasures all her woes beguil d, 
 Her hopes of Heav n, her dear and winning child. 
 Like some sweet flow ret on a barren isle, 
 He cheer d her lonely bosom with his smile, 
 
 (1) Exod. XT. 26. 
 
 146 
 
THE WIDOW OP NAIN. 
 
 Which beam d upon her with enlivening ray, 
 And chased the gloom of darkling care away ; 
 Inspired her bosom with a holy peace, 
 And bade Affliction s flowing rills to cease. 
 
 Perchance her deep, her fond maternal love, 
 Trespass d too much on that of Him above, 
 To whom the soul s devotion first is due, 
 The God of love, the ever just and true, 
 And He, her wand ring, earthly love to chide r 
 Bore him away who turn d her heart aside ; 
 For Death s stern hand, ere it commenced to bloom, 
 Pluck d the fair flow r to wither in the tomb : 
 Eclipsed the sunshine in her widow d breast, 
 Now pierced with anguish and with gloom opprest. 
 Still clave that heart, sore stricken, to its God, 
 And kiss d the hand which grasp d the chast ning rod, 
 Beseeching grace, whate er might be His will, 
 To bow her soul in meek submission still. 
 The tear-worn cheek, the deep and choking sob, 
 The anguish d bosom s agonizing throb, 
 Who would reprove emotions Nature gave ? 
 When e en the Saviour wept above the grave ; 
 Let fall those precious crystals from His eye, 
 In silent grief, o er cold mortality. 
 Slowly she moved amid the funeral train, 
 To soothe her pangs no earthly hopes remain ; 
 UT 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 She look d on him she loved, lo ! lifeless clay, 
 The soul had burst its bonds and flown away : 
 She turn d her gaze to Heaven s extended plain, 
 Her only solace, There we meet again ! 
 
 But there was One amid that silent throng 
 To whom all pow rs did bow, all might belong : 
 Whose heart was tender to the tears of woe, 
 And ever yearned sweet comfort to bestow. 
 One who could bid dark ocean s waves Be still ! 
 Or rouse their billows at His sovereign will ; 
 Could bid the sick forsake their weary bed, 
 To heap thanksgivings on His gracious head : 
 Could bid the lame amid the dance proclaim 
 The might and glory of Messiah s name ; 
 Could bid the dumb their new-found voices raise 
 In loud hosannas, and in songs of praise : 
 Could, with a word, chill life s warm-flowing tide, 
 Or bid the tomb unfold its caverns wide, 
 Yield back its occupant, to light restored, 
 And own the sway of an Almighty Lord. 
 That loving Being could not pass her by, 
 But, with compassion beaming in His eye, 
 " Weep not" He says, as softly drawing near, 
 He lays his hand upon the dead man s bier. 
 His visage shines, illum d by Pity s ray, 
 Like fair Gennesareth at close of day, 
 
 148 
 
THE WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 When o er its bosom sunbeams smile adieu, 
 
 And not a ripple waves its surface blue. 
 
 Awed by His aspect of celestial grace, 
 
 The bearers cease their slow and mournful pace ; 
 
 To Him at once their wond ring eyes they raise, 
 
 And e en the chief of mourners turns to gaze. 
 
 " Weep not!" those accents thrill her wounded heart, 
 
 And to her soul tumultuous hopes impart, 
 
 Hopes she can scarce define, much less express, 
 
 Yet still they seem to whisper happiness. 
 
 But, hark ! that voice again breaks on the ear, 
 
 And e en the dead the loud appeal must hear, 
 
 " Young man, I say to ihee. Arise!" the strife 
 
 Is ended now, and re-awaken d life 
 
 Hath burst the frozen bonds of icy death, 
 
 And summon d back the once departed breath. 
 
 The soul, recall d, returns with quick ning flame j. 
 
 To warm and animate that earthy frame ; 
 
 Along his veins careers the crimson tide, 
 
 And once again those bright eyes open wide ; 
 
 Whilst o er that pale, emaciated cheek, 
 
 Beams forth once more health s rosy-tinted streak,, 
 
 4 The dead rose up, and sat, and spake ! 
 
 The stoutest hearts with awe and terror quake, 
 
 As He, who broke Death s adamantine chain, 
 
 Back to the parent gives the child again. 
 
 U9 
 
TIIM WIDOW OF NAIN. 
 
 Now from her soul rolls sorrow s gloom away, 
 As morning mists before the dawn of day ; 
 Whilst sweet emotions in her bosom swell, 
 Of bliss too dorp-felt for her lips to tell ; 
 Bnt silvYv tear drops stealing down her cheek, 
 With silent eloquence IHT gladness speak. 
 Fast to her breast she Hasps her risen child, 
 And worships Him who oil her rapture smil d. 
 
 Now lh rouging multitudes, with loud acclaim, 
 Pour forth the praises of Messiah s name ; 
 " A prophet ! |o, a prophet ! - is the cry, 
 "God liaih mim- d<.\\u fnmi majesty Oil high ! 
 Hath visilod I Ms own, His chosen race, 
 And ope d Hie fountains of His hcav nly grace!" 
 Men, women, children, lisping infants, raise 
 Tin- mingled shout, and swell the note of praise, 
 Till, rising high, it rends the concave sky, 
 And rolls before ,the star-thron d Deity ! 
 
 150 
 
THE WORK AND TIIR WORKERS. 
 
 " Why HlttiHl y- IHTI- all 11n- ly iII-?" Mall. \\.\\. 
 
 A glorious privilege, tin to live 
 
 In an age like this ! when (Jod doth give 
 
 The right to labor to one and all, 
 
 To rich and to poor, to great and small ; 
 
 When all may find something to do or dare, 
 
 In freeing this world from sin and care. 
 
 Shame on the Isi/y, loitering loon, 
 
 Who e,ai twiddle his thumbs from morn till noon, 
 
 Whilst, every one with the soul of a man 
 
 Is pushing along to the battle s van ; 
 
 And striving to leave his mark on an age, 
 
 That shall proudly gleam upon History s page I 
 
 Shame on the languid miss, who can loll 
 
 Half her days, like a delicate doll, 
 
 In an easy chair, with a novel or play, 
 
 Whilst the rest of her sex arc working away ; 
 
 When God has bestowed on her youth and health, 
 
 And time, and talents, and, may be, wealth, 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS 
 
 The name of a woman who would fling 
 Away on that trifling, trick d out thing ? 
 
 Surely if we have a single spark 
 
 Of the goodness of God in our nature dark,. 
 
 We cannot be destin d to travel through 
 
 This work-day world with nothing to do, 
 
 With nought but the things of sense or sin 
 
 To draw out the pow rs our breast within : 
 
 There must be something to do or plan, 
 
 For each feeling woman and true-hearted man I 
 
 Are all the noble and loving schemes 
 
 For the welfare of men, but glowing themes 
 
 On which we may talk with tripping tongue y 
 
 Whilst not a nerve is for effort strung ? 
 
 Are they not rare opportunities given 
 
 To discipline souls for the courts of Heaven ? 
 
 Noble engines to work God s will, 
 
 To forward good, and to vanquish ill ? 
 
 Wherever we turn, wherever we stand, 
 
 There is plenty of work all ready to hand : 
 
 We may aid the wants of our fellow-man y 
 
 And mend his lot as best we can ; 
 
 We may save from the tavern, the treadmill, or worse, 
 
 The souls that still linger beneath the curse ; 
 
 152 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 We may seek them out in the haunts of sin, 
 
 Where squalor and misery lurk within ; 
 
 We may lead them forth to the light of day, 
 
 And give their slumb ring powers full play ; 
 
 We may build them Churches, and found them Schools, 
 
 Check evil habits by loving rules ; 
 
 We may cleanse from weeds the mental soil, 
 
 Procure them books and honest toil ; 
 
 We may give them a place in the social scale, 
 
 And send them forth, with a cheering gale, 
 
 To plough the stormy sea of life, 
 
 And fight, like men, the Christian s strife. 
 
 But if there is nought at hand to strain 
 
 Your nerves, look forth on Earth s wide plain ! 
 
 The harvest of God is tall and white, 
 
 It waits but the sickle, keen and bright, 
 
 And its goodly sheaves will soon be seen 
 
 Where the reaper s busy feet have been. 
 
 " Where are the Reapers ? " Hark, the cry ! 
 
 Shall that thrilling call meet no reply ? 
 
 Oh ! pray that the Lord may quickly send 
 
 Faithful reapers, ready to bend 
 
 Their willing backs the fields to sweep, 
 
 A noble harvest of souls to reap. 
 
 And, idle friend, with nothing to do, 
 
 May be the Lord hath a sickle for you ! 
 
 153 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 If you are a woman, you ve fingers ten, 
 More taper, tis true, than those of men, 
 But able to furnish a mountain of work? 
 When the spirit is ready, unwilling to shirk. 
 If you are a man, you have money to spare, 
 It may be perchance a goodly share ; 
 At least you ve the strength to carry through 
 Whatever your hand may find to do. 
 Stand not in the market, then, day by day, 
 Idly droning your life away, 
 But look around, the world is wide, 
 And the good and the great work side by side : 
 Yet is there room, enough and to spare, 
 For all who are willing to labor there. 
 From every grade and stage of life, 
 Christ s people flock to the noble strife ; 
 Both heaven and earth re-echo and ring, 
 With the deeds they do, and the strains they sing ; 
 Soon, soon, shall the powers of darkness yield, 
 And the banner of victory float o er the field ! 
 
 Oh ! take your place mid the sons of toil, 
 
 Be yours the conflict, yours the spoil ! 
 
 Labor may weary and moisten now, 
 
 But soon shall the palm-wreath bind your brow. 
 
 Man may scorn, oppose, and frown, 
 
 Mock at your efforts, and cry them down, 
 
 m 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 But let them bark and bray, what then ? 
 
 God is your judge, not selfish men ! 
 
 The work is His, and none shall stay, 
 
 Work on in faith, and wait, and pray. 
 
 And, oh, when your earthly course is run, 
 
 How welcome your Master s words ; " Well done ! 
 
 Well done, laborer, true to me ! 
 
 Long have I watched and followed thee : 
 
 I know thy labor, thy works, thy love, 
 
 I have treasured them up in my book above ; 
 
 And none shall perish, no, not one, 
 
 Of the noble deeds thy hand hath done ! 
 
 They shall bloom on, as the fruits of faith, 
 
 When thy perishing body lies cold in death ; 
 
 And thou shalt be mine, for ever and aye, 
 
 In the shining realms of eternal day ! " 
 
 Oh ! who would perish and pass away 
 From earth, like a clod of kindred clay ? 
 With not one streak of light to mark 
 His selfish path through this world so dark. 
 Oh ! who would sink, unmiss d, unknown, 
 To a grave unmark d by flower or stone ? 
 With none to love him, and none to shed 
 A tear o er the turf above him spread ; 
 With none to breathe or bless his name, 
 When the worms have fed on his fleshly frame. 
 
 156 
 
THE WORK AND THE WORKERS. 
 
 Oh ! who would stand at the throne on high, 
 Where the Lord of glory the world shall try, 
 Where the angel-throng sweet strains shall sing, 
 As the faithful servants their witness bring, 
 And there, mid the slothful and lost, be found 
 With his God-given talents still napkin bound ? 
 
 Up, up, then, brother ! and take thy stand 
 Mid the workmen of Christ, with head or han 1 ; 
 Blush not to be seen mid His laborers true, 
 But blush, if you will, that you ve nothing to do ! 
 Blush that you care for nought but self, 
 For this world s pleasure, or pomp, or pelf, 
 That, out of the thousands thine eyes can see, 
 Man, woman, nor child owes aught to thee ! 
 
 156 
 
THE DEATH-SIGNAL. 
 
 On the broad, deep blue of Ocean s breast, 
 
 May a gallant bark be seen ; 
 With the sinking sun, she steers due west, 
 
 With a trail of foaming sheen : 
 Her snow-white sails abroad are spread 
 
 To the breeze that whispers by ; 
 The bunting flutters overhead, 
 
 But that flag is half-mast high. 
 
 The captain had one blooming child, 
 
 A motherless, fair-haired boy ; 
 Like the breeze of ocean, free and wild, 
 
 His sailor father s joy : 
 Of the whole ship s crew the blithest he,- 
 
 The lov d of every eye ; 
 But now he lies all silently, 
 
 And the flag is half-mast high. 
 
 157 
 
THE DEATH-SIGNAL. 
 
 That ransom d soul is fled and gone, 
 
 With a low and parting wail, 
 But still the bounding bark bears on 
 
 Before the fresh ning gale ; 
 Still, still the curling billows foam, 
 
 And the sea-bird glances by, 
 Though dark is the captain s cabin-home, 
 
 And his flag is half-mast high. 
 
 A shrouded form lies on the deck, 
 
 And the silent crew stand round ; 
 The ship might be .a forsaken wreck, 
 
 So hush d is every sound : 
 But the voice of pray r is on the wind, 
 
 And a low, half-utter d cry, 
 One passenger is left behind, 
 
 And the flag is half-mast high. 
 
 That bark on many a sea shall sail, 
 
 And brave out many a storm ; 
 But ne er will her captain s cheek be pale 
 
 As it was o er that dying form : 
 Whilst oft he will think of the far-offshore, 
 
 With a yearning and a sigh, 
 Where he ll meet his child, when the flag once more 
 
 Of his bark waves half-mast high. 
 
 158 
 
THE EMIGRANT S DEPARTURE. 
 
 A Scene in Ulster. A.D. 1863. 
 
 Wailing aloud, a weeping band 
 
 Stood by a lonely road ; 
 In sorrow was clasp d each trembling hand, 
 
 And glittering tear-drops flow d : 
 Women were there, and their piercing cry 
 
 Came sad on the balmy air, 
 Though the birds sang sweet, and the noontide sky 
 
 Smiled soft on the landscape fair. 
 
 Thus far they d trudg d from their native place. 
 
 Till their weary feet were sore, 
 A kiss, a sob, one last embrace, 
 
 And the parting scene was o er : 
 The parents grief was shed o er a son, 
 
 O er a brother the sister s tear, 
 And perchance in the group there yet was one 
 
 To whom he was still more dear. 
 
 159 
 
THE EMIGRANT S DEPARTURE. 
 
 Onward he goes, but the mournful swell 
 
 Of that cry still greets his ear, 
 Soundeth it not like a heart-rung knell 
 
 For a lost one, lov d and dear ? 
 And perchance it is, for an only child 
 
 Is leaving his early home, 
 His grave may be the ocean wild, 
 
 And his shroud the curling foam. 
 
 He pauses again for a farewell sight 
 
 Of that sad but faithful band ; 
 The road forsaken, they ve climb d the height, 
 
 In a clustering group ihey stand : 
 They wave the hand as a last adieu, 
 
 They strain the aching eye, 
 May the pray r they breathe, as he fades from view, 
 
 Find grace with One on high ! 
 
 A blessing on thee, exiled lad, 
 
 A blessing night and day ! 
 Well may thy home-sick heart be sad, 
 
 As thou tread st thy lonely way : 
 Though slow thy step, and dim thine eye, 
 
 Though tears bedew thy cheek, 
 Blush not at the glance of the passer-by, 
 
 Nor fear he will deem thee weak. 
 
 160 
 
THE EMIGRANT S DEPARTURE. 
 
 Oh no, not so ! he will honor thee more 
 
 For that pure and simple sign 
 Of love, than if thou the proudest wore 
 
 In the gem resplendent mine : 
 Then brush not away that tear, fond boy ! 
 
 In truth it becomes thee well ; 
 And oh ! in thy after hours of joy, 
 
 Remember for whom it fell. 
 
 Veil, veil, sweet Erin, thy tearful face, 
 
 And thy tuneful harp unstring ! 
 Whilst sad are the homes of thy chosen race, 
 
 Can its joyous changes ring ? 
 Still, feel in thy bosom a glow of pride, 
 
 Though the rich and great may scorn, 
 The fervent love of thy children tried 
 
 Would honor the noblest born ! 
 
 161 
 
CHIMES OF THE SEA. 
 
 Born in the earliest dawn of Time, 
 
 I shall be till Time is o er ; 
 I sing my songs in every clime, 
 
 And compass every shore : 
 From North to South, from East to West, 
 
 My giant waves are hurl d ; 
 Was there ever a monarch like me, possessed 
 
 Of more than half a world ? 
 
 I m grave, I m gay, I shout or sing, 
 
 As it suits my varying mind, 
 But, whatever my state, I wonder bring 
 
 To the hearts of human kind : 
 And when first I show to stranger eyes, 
 
 The majesty girding me, 
 How thrills his heart as he wildly cries 
 
 "The sea! The sea ! The sea!" 
 
 162 
 
CHIMES OF THE SEA. 
 
 The broad Atlantic s my hall of pride, 
 
 A myriad serfs I own, 
 And at every ebb of my mighty tide, 
 
 They gather about my throne ; 
 They come, the near and the far away, 
 
 From cave, and cliff, and tower, 
 From golden fields and gardens gay, 
 
 And many a lady s bower. 
 
 In the fair Pacific I love to smile, 
 
 And lull my waves to rest, 
 While many a glittering coral isle 
 
 Gleams bright on my heaving breast : 
 But far away in the Northern seas, 
 
 I am chill d to the very soul, 
 For the icy winds my heart s blood freeze 
 
 As I circle the silent Pole. 
 
 I bask beneath Italian skies, 
 
 I muse by classic Greece, 
 And scarce can an angry feeling rise 
 
 Mid scenes so full of peace ; 
 And even I, over Glory s grave, 
 
 A tear can almost shed, 
 As I flow with bright and placid wave 
 
 By the city of the dead. 
 
 163 
 
CHIMBS OP THE SEA. 
 
 I wander among the Hebrides, 
 
 Down Staffa s solemn aisles, 
 And dear to my soul is the passing breeze 
 
 From lona s sacred piles ; 
 For it whispers of ages dark and drear, 
 
 Of a well nigh pagan night, 
 When outcast Truth found a refuge here, 
 
 And shone as a beacon bright. 
 
 Around Columbia s rocks I roar, 
 
 And wealthy Hindostan ; 
 And many a bleak and barren shore, 
 
 Untrod by the foot of man : 
 But Albion s isle I guard with awe, 
 
 For I honor her bulwarks white, 
 And woe to the foe who defies her law, 
 
 When she rules for truth and right ! 
 
 Wherever my endless waters foam, 
 
 Her red cross flag s unfurl d, 
 As proudly she bears to her island home 
 
 The wealth of a teeming world : 
 And scatters abroad, with bounteous hand, 
 
 The blessings her God hath given, 
 The freedom of thought of her own free land, 
 
 And the faith which lights to Heaven. 
 
 164 
 
CHIMES OF THE SEA. 
 
 Spain, Venice, and Carthage, where are they ? 
 
 And where are the wreaths they won ? 
 They are silent all, in Fame s decay, 
 
 Their course of glory s run ; 
 But a mightier monarch now wears my crown, 
 
 For it graces Britannia s head, 
 May her garments of state he Truth and Renown, 
 
 Till her mission be nobly sped ! 
 
 165 
 
HAVELOCK S GRAVE * 
 
 Where does the mighty Havelock sleep ? 
 
 Who, with avenging sword, 
 Like some fierce whirlwind o er the deep, 
 
 Burst through the heathen horde ; 
 Who bore, amid dark Battle s frown, 
 Relief to Lucknow s leaguer d town, 
 
 And vanish d hope restor d. 
 
 * This poem was written on the perusal of the following extract from the 
 Indian Correspondence of the " London Times," communicated by Dr. 
 Kussell. It subsequently appeared that the disturbed state of the country, 
 and the desire of the present Sir H. Havelock to erect a monument to his 
 father s memory, deterred the public from paying that due attention to the 
 hero s grave which they would otherwise gratefully have done. A suitable 
 testimonial has since been raised above his remains ; but his earnest piety 
 and military fame are his most lasting memorials. None could more truly 
 
 have said 
 
 " Exegi monumentum are perennius ! " 
 
 Hor. Car. III. 30. 
 
 " I wish I could say to the people of England, who lamented Havelock so 
 deeply, that the grave of their chosen one is worthily marked, or that its 
 present condition is worthy of the remains which lie there, or of the coun 
 try. When I visited the Alumbagh, where Sir Henry Havelock was hur 
 riedly interred in the march of the relieved garrison out of Lucknow, I 
 saw, in the unclean garden ground of the place, open to natives, cattle, and 
 dogs, a shallow sinking in the ground the size of a grave and it was a 
 grave and just over it, rudely carved by a soldier s hand on the trunk of a 
 tree, could be traced the letter " H." And this is the grave and the inscrip 
 tion of Sir Henry Havelock!" Times, March 1869. 
 
 166 
 
HAVELOCK S GRAVE. 
 
 Where sleeps the Christian soldier now 
 
 Now that his course is sped, 
 And Fame has wreath d her fav rite s brow ? 
 
 Where rests his weary head 
 Who sought not only man s applause, 
 But in Humanity s high cause 
 
 His life blood freely shed ? 
 
 Lies he beneath some sacred pile, 
 
 Amid the good and great, 
 In solemn, still cathedral aisle, 
 
 In military state ; 
 
 Where England s sons and daughters fair 
 Oft love to linger, tearful, there, 
 
 To muse upon his fate ? 
 
 Lies he, as heroes lay of old, 
 
 Neath some majestic mound, 
 
 Eear d by the noble and the bold 
 Where silence reigns around ; 
 
 Where friend and foe with rev rence meet, 
 
 And feel the spot beneath their feet 
 Is consecrated ground ? 
 
 16Y 
 
HAVELOCK S GRAVE. 
 
 No, pilgrim ! seek no solemn pile, 
 No mound on battle plain, 
 
 No dim and still cathedral aisle, 
 Thy search would be but vain : 
 
 But hither turn thy longing eyes, 
 
 Draw near in mute and sad surprise, 
 With mingled grief and pain. 
 
 Behold this rude, unhallow d spot, 
 This unclean, open space, 
 
 Nay, pilgrim, pause despise it not 
 Turn not aside thy face ; 
 
 Though dogs and cattle prowl around, 
 
 That shallow sinking in the ground 
 Is Havelock s resting place ! 
 
 This tree that lifts its friendly head 
 
 To shelter and to save, 
 Serves both as tombstone for the dead 
 
 And tablet for the brave ; 
 Upon its bark one letter stands, 
 Inscribed by fond and faithful hands, 
 
 To mark the hero s grave. 
 
 168 
 
HAVELOCK S GRAVE. 
 
 What though his bones neglected lie, 
 
 Unguarded and alone ; 
 What though no rival artists vie 
 
 To rear the sculptur d stone : 
 He needs no monumental state, 
 Which makes man neither good nor great 
 
 Before th Almighty s throne. 
 
 His name s a cherish d household word, 3 
 Enshrin d in English hearts ; 
 
 Where er its honor d sound is heard, 
 Full many a tear-drop starts : 
 
 His fame his pure, unsullied fame, 
 
 Shall burn with never-dying flame 
 Till England s glory parts ! 
 
 But, oh ! more blest, more happy still, 
 Long ere his strifes were o er, 
 
 He look d to Zion s holy hill 
 
 From Earth s attractive shore ; 
 
 Now, risen on the wings of Faith, 
 
 His soul has cross d the stream of Death, 
 And lives for evermore ! 
 
 169 
 
MEMORIAL OF MACAULAY. 
 
 " Vel pace vel bello clarum fieri licet: et qui fecere, et qui facta aliorum 
 ecripsere, multi laudantur." Sail. Cat. cap. 3. 
 
 BereavM Britain, weep ! for thou 
 
 Hast lost a noble son, 
 With wreaths all fresh upon his brow, 
 
 The wreaths by genius won ; 
 His glory, by no cloud o ercast, 
 Resplendent to the very last, 
 
 Has set like mid-day sun ! 
 
 He lies amid the noble dead, 
 Whose names can never die 
 
 Till Time his weary course has sped, 
 And shines Eternity : 
 
 The same high honors round him close, 
 
 His cherish d bones with theirs repose ,- 
 Methinks I see him lie ! 
 
 170 
 
MEMORIAL GF MACAULAT. 
 
 Above Macaulay s honored tomb, 
 Three figures seem to stand: 
 
 Sweet flowers, with never-dying bloom, 
 Fall from each quiv ring hand : 
 
 On him are bent their earnest eyes, 
 
 For him their bosoms heave with sighs, 
 Who form this mournful band ? 
 
 There History with her scroll is seen, 
 With pensive look and sage, 
 
 Whilst many a tear-drop with its sheen 
 Spangles the glorious page ; 
 
 That page o er which her child has thrown 
 
 A light, a halo all his own, 
 
 To shine through many an age. 
 
 There Poesy s graceful figure droops, 
 Her sweet-ton d lyre unstrung ; 
 
 There Eloquence in silence stoops, 
 For sorrow chains his tongue : 
 
 Long shall they deeply grieve for him, 
 
 Long shall their tearful eyes be dim, 
 And mournful notes be sung ! 
 
 171 
 
MEMORIAL OF MACAULAY. 
 
 Bard and Historian, who hast spread 
 
 Before a nation s gaze 
 Bright pages, which have o er thee shed 
 
 Such beams of human praise : 
 May thine own history, writ above, 
 Beam bright with Christian faith and love. 
 
 And angel anthems raise ! 
 
 172 
 
ON THE DECEASE OF THE PRINCE CONSORT, 
 
 A. D. 1861. 
 
 Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus 
 
 Tamcaricapitis?" 
 
 Hor, Car. Lib. I. 24, 
 
 A nation weeps and why ? 
 A brother hath departed, 
 Noble, and Christian-hearted, 
 
 To bliss on high : 
 A prince hath past from earth, 
 Whose deeds of love and worth 
 
 Shall never die. 
 
 A nation weeps and why ? 
 A bright and precious gem, 
 From England s diadem, 
 
 Is now laid by : 
 A pure and gifted mind 
 No more shall lead mankind 
 
 To triumphs high. 
 
 173 
 
ON THE DECEASE OF THE PRINCE CONSORT. 
 
 A nation weeps and why ? 
 Each man hath lost a friend ; 
 The poor, one who could bend 
 
 With pitying eye, 
 To learn and meet their need 
 With kindly word and deed, 
 
 And sympathy. 
 
 A nation weeps and why ? 
 In its lov d Queen s distress, 
 A husband *s tenderness 
 
 It would supply ; 
 As grief her spirit stirs, 
 Mingling its tears with hers, 
 
 No eye is dry. 
 
 Thus England s grief flows on, 
 Above that silent tomb 
 Where fondest mem ries bloom : 
 
 She weeps with one 
 Whose deeper grief she shares, 
 Yet speak their mingled pray rs 
 
 " God s will be done ! " 
 
THE FAITHFUL STEWARD/ 
 
 "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, 
 ye have done it unto me." Matt, xxv. 40. 
 
 Steward of Christ ! when cank ring rust 
 
 Hath dimm d Earth s glory and her gold ; 
 
 When, sleeping neath the gath ring dust, 
 Thy frame lies tenantless and cold ; 
 
 When thou art summon d to resign 
 
 That mighty stewardship of thine, 
 
 Then shall thy faithfulness be told. 
 
 * Written in commemoration of Mr. George Peabody s parting donation 
 of 150,000 to the poor of London, in which city this Christian-minded 
 merchant amassed his vast fortune. The donor was born in Danvers, Mas 
 sachusetts, U. S., and in humble circumstances. 
 
 175 
 
THE FAITHFUL STEWARD. 
 
 TJnnumber d sons of wretchedness 
 
 Shall breathe in pray r thy cherish d name, 
 Shall tell how, in their deep distress, 
 
 Thy bounty quicken d Hope s dull flame ; 
 When o er life s dark and troubled stream 
 A comforting and cheering beam, 
 
 Like smile from heaven, sweetly came. 
 
 " I was an hungred, thou didst fill 
 
 This wasted frame with strength ning meat ! 
 " Parch d were these fev rish lips until 
 
 Thy love provided cordial sweet ! " 
 " I was a homeless child, and bare, 
 Till, warmly clothed and housed with care, 
 
 Thy mercy took me from the street ! " 
 
 Oh ! when before the judgment throne, 
 
 How dear to Christ how dear to thee, 
 
 (Though ne er for sin it can atone,) 
 Shall that unfailing witness be ; 
 
 When thousands rise to call thee blest, 
 
 And thus, with mingled voice, attest 
 Thy love and thy fidelity ! 
 
 176 
 
THE FAITHFUL STEWARD. 
 
 Ye men of rank, or monied worth ! 
 
 Whose bursting granaries enfold 
 The riches of the teeming earth, 
 
 Whose iron coffers hoard her gold : 
 Circled by all wealth can command, 
 Soon will your Lord account demand 
 
 Of ev ry talent you may hold. 
 
 Remember, then, whose love did bless 
 Your patient labour, year by year, 
 
 Who crown d each effort with success, 
 
 Outstripp d each hope, allay d each fear; 
 
 Freely for Christ let that be spent 
 
 Which He for Time has only lent, 
 
 And lay not up your treasure here ! 
 
 Should future bickerings arise, 
 
 Or varying interests clash and jar ; 
 
 Should o er the calm and radiant skies 
 The threat ning clouds be spread afar, 
 
 And Britain and Columbia stand, 
 
 Sternly opposed, with sword in hand, 
 Intent on fratricidal war : 
 
 m 
 
THE FAITHFUL STEWARD. 
 
 Woe be to her whose cursed brand 
 
 Shall first be stained with human gore ! 
 
 Shall first dissever that blest band 
 
 Which knits together each far shore, 
 
 Where, pleading claims of brotherhood, 
 
 Are heard on either side the flood 
 The prayers of Britain s poor. 
 
 its 
 
ON VISITING THE TOMB OF THE LATE 
 REV. J. B. 
 
 OB. A. D. 1855. 
 
 Here the Friend the Husband the Father sleeps, 
 
 Where the grass is fresh and green, 
 But the lonely widow sighs and weeps 
 
 Where the billows roll between ; 
 
 And each orphan bears,, in her chasten d breast, 
 
 A gap she will strive in vain 
 To fill, till she meets, in eternal rest, 
 
 With that dear-lov d form again. 
 
 ( 
 
 Their tears cannot dew the sacred stone 
 Nor their deep sighs murmur there 
 
 Nor can that spot, so far and lone, 
 Re-echo their broken pray r. 
 
 179 
 
ON VISITING THE TOMB OP THE LATE REV. J. B. 
 
 The dwellings of strangers are gather d round 
 
 Not a kinsman s home is seen 
 But, say ! will no sorrowing form be found, 
 
 Which oft to that spot hath been ? 
 
 Will Memory bring no mourner there, 
 To pour at that lonely shrine 
 
 A tribute tear, or a simple pray r, 
 When the sun s bright beams decline ? 
 
 Will the snow be spread from day to day 
 Round his silent resting place, 
 
 And no friendly foot, ere it melts away, 
 Leave a single friendly trace ? 
 
 Ah, yes ! though the world hath hard, cold hearts, 
 
 Yet they are not all so dead, 
 But some will grieve when a friend departs, 
 
 And visit his lowly bed : 
 
 So, often here will the fond few stray, 
 
 Who knew and could feel his worth 
 Who now, till the dawn of a brighter day, 
 
 Sleeps on in the womb of Earth ! 
 
 180 
 
ON VISITING THE TOMB OF THE LATE REV. J. B. 
 
 And some, perchance, in the sacred fane, 
 
 Who have heard his accents flow, 
 Will fancy they hear him oft again, 
 
 Though his form be cold and low ; 
 
 And bear abroad in their after life, 
 
 Through his means, the Christian s sign, 
 
 A heart that loves, mid a world of strife, 
 To muse upon things divine. 
 
 But chiefly the poor, and friendless old, 
 
 Will oft to this spot repair, 
 To the tomb of a friend, whose heart and gold 
 
 Could never withstand their pray r. 
 
 Then think not he slumbers forgotten here 
 That his name J s like a fallen star, 
 
 There are bosoms that cherish it fondly near, 
 And many that love it afar ! 
 
 181 
 
THE PIONEERS.* 
 
 Alas ! for the daring spirits, 
 
 Now past from earth away, 
 Whose noble forms are resting 
 
 Beneath their kindred clay ; 
 Who, spent with toil and hunger, 
 
 Lay calmly down to die, 
 With none but God above them 
 
 To catch their latest sigh. 
 
 Forth went those desert wanderers, 
 
 Steadfast, and true, and bold, 
 As ever beaded pilgrim 
 
 Set forth in days of old ; 
 Forth went they, in their manhood, 
 
 To dare the trackless wild, 
 But on their safe returning 
 
 No friends looked forth and smiled. 
 
 * A tribute to the memory of Burke and Wills, who perished whilst 
 exploring the interior of the continent of Australia, A. D. 1861. 
 
 182 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Their gaze was on the future, 
 
 When, neath those glowing skies, 
 And mid those tangled marshes, 
 
 Fair villages shall rise : 
 When farms aiM peaceful homesteads 
 
 Shall shine and nestle there, 
 And lowing herds and reapers 
 
 Make music on the air. 
 
 They dreamed not then, those doomed ones, 
 
 That they from earth must pass, 
 Ere another summer s breezes 
 
 Should wave the blooming grass ; 
 They saw not those wan figures 
 
 Fall, silent, one by one, 
 They saw not those stark bodies 
 
 Lie festering in the sun. 
 
 Across the fertile regions, 
 
 With ruddy corn now spread, 
 Some straggling forms first wander d 
 
 With slow and weary tread ; 
 Athwart the seething ocean, 
 
 Which guards the golden shore, 
 Some bolder hands first ventured, 
 
 To seek the precious ore. 
 
 183 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Oft, as the hosts of Commerce 
 
 O er -earth go marching on, 
 Some whitening bones will show us 
 
 Another outpost won ; 
 Yet will each bolder spirit 
 
 Still ever seek the van, 
 Till desert, prairie, forest, 
 
 Confess the sway of man. 
 
 So in the path of learning, 
 
 Of Science, Liberty, 
 Will minds of highest mettle 
 
 The foremost strive to be ; 
 What though they fail of reaching 
 
 Their grand and lofty prize, 
 At least their prostrate bodies 
 
 Shall help mankind to rise. 
 
 Then hail to the noble vanguard 
 
 The world s brave pioneers ! 
 All honor to their courage, 
 
 To their memory our tears ! 
 Theirs is the suffering hardship, 
 
 The seed-time and the toil : 
 For those who may come after 
 
 The harvest and the spoil. 
 
 184 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Shall we, who reap their sowing, 
 
 Think lightly of their dust ? 
 Nay, gather it in silence, 
 
 Deem it a solemn trust : 
 And let a fitting tribute 
 
 Above their tomb be seen, 
 Whilst a grateful people s record 
 
 Preserves their memory green. 
 
 185 
 
I 
 
 INSCRIPTION FOR A TIME-PIECE. 
 
 As oft you gaze upon my face 
 And watch each moment s rapid pace, 
 Let every tick a warning be 
 How brief the time allowed to thee ! 
 
 And let each fleeting hour be fraught 
 With holy deed or heavenward thought, 
 That, when the hands of Time are still, 
 Eternal joy thy soul may fill ! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
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