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HYMNS OF THE AGES. 
 
Uniform with this Volume. 
 
 HYMNS OF THE AGES. 
 First Series. 
 
 Being Selections from Lyra Catholica, Germanica, Apostolica, and other 
 Sources. With an Introduction by Rev. F. D. Huntington, D. D. 
 One Volume. 
 
 HTMNS OF THE AGES, 
 Second Series. 
 
 Being Selections from Wither, Crashaw, Southwell, Habington, and 
 other Sources. One Volume. 
 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS, Publishers. 
 
HYMNS OF THE AGES. 
 
 THIRD SERIES. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS. 
 1865. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, hy 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS, 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 University Press: 
 Welch, Bigelow, and Company, 
 Cambridge. 
 
Preface. 
 
 THE private commonplace-book which found 
 its way into print some years ago, and to 
 which, from a certain flavor of antiquity in its 
 contents, we gave the title of Hymns of the Ages, 
 is swelling to an anthology. 
 
 In editing our firft series we hardly knew from 
 what a perennial ftream we had dipped, and to 
 what an indulgent public the draught was offered. 
 More careful research has surprised and bewildered 
 us with our riches. We have not room to-day 
 for half the material which lies before us in manu- 
 script. 
 
 The Ages all resound with sacred song, the 
 elders having every one of them harps, and gold- 
 en vials full of odors, which are the prayers 
 of saints"; and for this youngeft age, with its 
 
 teachings of God," who is so dull that he would 
 
VI 
 
 Preface. 
 
 not turn from all traditions of the elders rather 
 than lose its ring, — none surer to reach the 
 Throne ! 
 
 The present differs from our previous series in 
 the larger space accorded to hymns In Time 
 of War," and For Old Age." We have been 
 advised to include hymns by Watts, Wefley, Cow- 
 per, and others, which had been rejeded hitherto 
 as common in Church colledions ; and have also 
 given as many as we could find of the myftical, 
 tender songs of Madame Guyon, they being out 
 of print in this country. 
 
 Nor have we failed to discover a few more of 
 the rich old Latin hymns which, filtering down 
 through German and Englifh tranflations, sink 
 as deeply into the heart to-day as if they had only 
 now reached native ground; proving fi:ill that 
 before the Eternal all hearts are one, and the 
 centuries are but as watches of a night. 
 
 " Every inmost aspiration is God's angel undefiled ; 
 And in every *0 my Father!' (lumbers deep a * Here, my 
 Child!'" 
 
 C. S. W. 
 A. E. G. 
 
 RoxBURY, Odober 3, 1864. 
 
Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 In Time of War i 
 
 Affliction 35 
 
 Patience 69 
 
 Prayer 78 
 
 Praise 133 
 
 Self-Examination 147 
 
 God 158 
 
 Christ 166 
 
 The Holy Spirit 175 
 
 Love 181 
 
 Quiet 221 
 
 Old Age 245 
 
 Death 275 
 
 Heaven 288 
 
 Sunday 304 
 
 The One Church 316 
 
 Index to First Lines 325 
 
IN TIME OF WAR. 
 
 TO-DAY IF YE WILL HEAR HIS VOICE! 
 
 OUR God ! our God ! Thou fhineft here 
 Thine own this latter day ; 
 To us thy radiant fteps appear ; 
 Here leads thy glorious way ! 
 
 We fhine not only with the light 
 Thou didft fhed down of yore ; 
 
 On us thou ftreameft ftrong and bright ; 
 Thy comings are not o'er. 
 
 The fathers had not all of thee ; 
 
 New births are in thy grace ; 
 All open to our souls lliall be 
 
 Thy glory's hiding-place. 
 
 We gaze on thy outgoings bright, 
 
 Down Cometh thy full power ; 
 We, the glad bearers of thy light ; 
 
 This, this thy saving hour ! 
 
2 
 
 In Time of War. 
 
 On us thy spirit haft thou poured ; 
 
 To us thy word has come ; 
 We feel, we bless, thy quickening. Lord ! 
 
 Thou (halt not find us dumb. 
 
 Thou comeft near ; thou ftandeft by ; 
 
 Our work begins to ftiine ; 
 Thou dwelleft with us mightily, — 
 
 On come the years divine ! 
 
 r. H. Gill. 
 
 OLD AND NEW. 
 
 O SOMETIMES gleams upon our fight, 
 Through present wrong, the Eternal Right ! 
 And ftep by ftep, fince time began, 
 We see the fteady gain of man ; — 
 
 That all of good the paft hath had 
 Remains to make our own time glad, 
 Our common daily life divine. 
 And every land a Paleftine. 
 
 We lack but open eye and ear 
 To find the Orient's marvels here, — 
 The ftill small voice in autumn's hufh. 
 Yon maple wood the burning bufh. 
 
In Time of War, 3 
 
 For ftill the new transcends the old, 
 In figns and tokens manifold : 
 Slaves rise up men ; the olive waves 
 With roots deep set in battle graves. 
 
 Through the harfh noises of our day 
 A low, sweet prelude finds its way ; 
 Through clouds of doubt and creeds of fear 
 A light is breaking, calm and clear. 
 
 Henceforth my heart fhall figh no more 
 For olden time and holier fhore ; 
 God's love and bleffing, then and there. 
 Are now, and here, and everywhere. 
 
 7. G. mittier. 
 
 THE DAY OF THE LORD ! 
 
 THE day of the Lord is at hand, at hand. 
 The ftorms roll up the Iky ; 
 A nation fleeps ftarving on heaps of gold, 
 
 All dreamers toss and figh. 
 When the pain is sorefl:, the child is born. 
 And the day is darkeft before the morn 
 
 Of the day of the Lord at hand. 
 
4 In Time of War. 
 
 Gather you, gather you, angels of God ; 
 
 Chivalry, Juftice, and Truth ; 
 Come, for the earth is grown coward and eld ; 
 
 Come down and renew us her youth ! 
 Freedom, Self-sacrifice, Mercy, and Love, 
 Hafte to the battle-field, ftoop from above. 
 To the day of the Lord at hand. 
 
 Gather you, gather you, hounds of hell, — 
 
 Famine, and Plague, and War ; 
 Idleness, Bigotry, Cant, and Misrule, 
 
 Gather, — and fall in the snare! 
 Hirelings and Mammonites, Pedants and Knaves, 
 Crawl to the battle, or sneak to your graves. 
 In the day of the Lord at hand. 
 
 Who would fit down and whine for a loft Age of Gold 
 
 While the Lord of all ages is here ? 
 True hearts will leap up at the trumpet of God, 
 
 And those who can suffer can dare. 
 Each paft Age of Gold was an iron age too, 
 And the meekeft of saints may find ftern work to do 
 In the day of the Lord at hand. 
 
 Rev. Charles King [ley. 
 
In Time of JV ar. 
 
 5 
 
 BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 
 
 MINE eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the 
 Lord: 
 
 He is trampHng out the vintage where the grapes of wrath 
 are ftored ; 
 
 He hath loosed the fateful lightnings of His terrible swift 
 sword : 
 
 His truth is marching on. 
 
 I have seen him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling 
 camps ; 
 
 They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and 
 damps ; 
 
 I can read His righteous sentence bv the dim and flaring 
 lamps : 
 
 His day is marching on. 
 
 I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnifhed rows of fteel : 
 As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace 
 ' fhall deal ; 
 
 Let the Hero, born of woman, crufh the serpent with his 
 heel. 
 
 Since God is marching on." 
 
6 
 
 In Tune of U ar. 
 
 I He has sounded forth the trumpet that lhall never call 
 [ retreat ; 
 
 I He is lifting out the hearts of men before His judsment- 
 seat : 
 
 Oh, be swift, mv soul, to answer Him ' be jubilant, mv 
 j feet I 
 
 Our God is marching on. 
 
 In the beautv of the lilies Chrift was born across the sea, 
 ^Vith a glorv in his bosom that transfigures vou and me : 
 As he died to make men holv, let us die to make men free. 
 
 While God is marching on. 
 
 Mn. Julia IFard Hoiue. 
 
 w 
 
 THY WILL BE DOXE. 
 
 rE see not, know not ; all our wav 
 
 Is night : with Thee alone is da\ 
 From out the torrent's troubled drift. 
 Above the llorm our praver we lift, 
 Thv will be done I 
 
 The flefh mav fail, the heart mav faint, 
 But who are we to make complaint. 
 Or dare to plead in times like these 
 The weakness of our lo\'e of ease? 
 Thv will be done ! 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 7 
 
 We take with solemn thankfulness 
 Our burden up, nor afk it less, 
 And count it joy that even we 
 May suffer, serve, or wait for Thee, 
 Whose will be done ! 
 
 Though dim as yet in tint and line. 
 We trace Thy picSlure's wise defign. 
 And thank Thee that our age supplies 
 The dark relief of sacrifice. 
 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 And if, in our unworthiness. 
 Thy sacrificial wine we press. 
 If from Thy ordeal's heated bars 
 Our feet are seamed with crimson scars. 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 If, for the age to come, this hour 
 Of trial hath vicarious power. 
 And, bleft by thee, our present pain 
 Be Liberty's eternal gain. 
 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 Strike, Thou the Mafter, we Thy keys. 
 The anthem of the deftinies ! 
 The minor of Thy loftier ftrain. 
 Our hearts fhall breathe the old refrain. 
 Thy will be done ! 
 
 J. G. Whittier. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 ST. CHRISTOPHER. 
 
 CARRY me across ! " 
 The Syrian heard, rose up and braced 
 His huge limbs to the accuftomed toil : 
 " My child, see how the waters boil 
 The night-black heavens look angry-faced ; 
 But life is little loss. 
 
 " I '11 carry thee with joy. 
 If needs be, safe as neftling dove : 
 f or o'er this ftream I pilgrims bring 
 In service to one Chrift, a King 
 Whom I have never seen, yet love." 
 
 " I thank thee," said the boy. 
 
 Cheerful, Arprobus took 
 The burden on his (boulders great. 
 And ftepped into the waves once more ; 
 When lo ! thev leaping rise and roar, 
 And 'neath the little child's light weight 
 
 The tottering giant fhook. 
 
 " Who art thou \ " cried he wild. 
 Struggling in middle of the ford : 
 " Boy as thou look'ft, it seems to me 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 9 
 
 The whole world's load I bear in thee, 
 Yet — " "For the sake of Chrift, thy Lord, 
 Carry me," said the child. 
 
 No more Arprobus swerved. 
 But gained the farther bank, and then 
 A voice cried, " Hence Chrift opheros be ! 
 For carrying, thou haft carried me. 
 The King of angels and of men. 
 
 The Mafter thou haft served." 
 
 And in the moonlight blue 
 The saint saw — not the wandering boy. 
 But Him who walked upon the sea 
 And o'er the plains of Galilee, 
 Till, filled with myftic, awful joy. 
 
 His dear Lord Chrift he knew. 
 
 O, little is all loss, 
 And brief the space 'twixt fhore and fhore. 
 If thou. Lord Jesus, on us lay. 
 Through the deep waters of our way. 
 The burden that Chriftopheros bore, — 
 
 To carry Thee across. 
 
 Miss D. Muloch, 
 
10 In Time of Wa 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF TRUTH. 
 
 THOU, long disowned, reviled, oppreft, 
 Strange friend of human kind. 
 Seeking through weary years a reft 
 Within our hearts to find \ — 
 
 How late thy bright and awful brow 
 Breaks through these clouds of fin ! 
 
 Hail, Truth Divine ! we know thee now. 
 Angel of God, come in ! 
 
 Come, though with purifying fire. 
 
 And desolating sword. 
 Thou of all nations the defire ! 
 
 Earth waits thy cleanfing word. 
 
 Struck by the lightning of thy glance, 
 
 Let old oppreffions die ; 
 Before thy cloudless countenance 
 
 Let fear and falsehood fly. 
 
 Anoint our eyes with healing grace. 
 
 To see, as ne'er before. 
 Our Father in our brother's face. 
 
 Our Maker in His poor. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 Hood our dark life with golden day ; 
 
 Convince, subdue, enthrall ; 
 Then to a mightier yield thy sway. 
 
 And Love be all in all. 
 
 Eli%a Sc udder. 
 
 REIGN OF CHRIST. 
 
 KINGDOMS and thrones to God belong; 
 Crown him, ye nations, in your song ; 
 His wondrous names and powers rehearse ; 
 His honors shall enrich your verse. 
 
 He fhakes the heavens with loud alarms ; 
 How terrible is God in arms ! 
 In Israel are his mercies known ; 
 Israel is his peculiar throne. 
 
 Proclaim him King, — pronounce him bleft ; 
 He is your life, your joy, your reft ; 
 When terrors rise, and nations faint, 
 God is the ftrength of every saint. 
 
 Isaac W atts. 
 
12 
 
 In Time of IV ar. 
 
 THE foe behind, the deep before, 
 Our hofts have dared and paffed the sea : 
 And Pharaoh's warriors ftrew the fhore, 
 And Israel's ransomed tribes are free. 
 Lift up, Hft up your voices now ! 
 The whole wide world rejoices now ! 
 The Lord hath triumphed glorioufly ! 
 The Lord fhall reign vicSlorioufly ! 
 Happy morrow. 
 Turning sorrow 
 
 Into peace and mirth ! 
 Bondage ending. 
 Love descending 
 
 O'er the earth ! 
 Seals alTuring, 
 Guards securing, 
 
 Watch his earthly prison : 
 Seals are fhattered. 
 Guards are scattered, 
 Chrift hath risen ! 
 
 No longer muft the mourners weep, 
 Nor call departed Chriftians dead ; 
 For death is hallowed into fleep 
 And every grave becomes a bed. 
 Now once more 
 Eden's door 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 Open ftands to mortal eyes ; 
 For Chrift hath risen, and men fhall rise : 
 Now at laft, 
 Old things paft, 
 Hope and joy and peace begin : 
 For Chrift hath won, and man fhall win. 
 
 It is not exile, reft on high : 
 
 It is not sadness, peace from ftrife : 
 To fall afleep is not to die ; 
 
 To dwell with Chrift is better life. 
 Where our banner leads us. 
 
 We may safely go : 
 Where our Chief precedes us. 
 
 We may face the foe. 
 His right arm is o'er us. 
 
 He will guide us through : 
 Chrift hath gone before us ; 
 Chriftians ! follow you ! 
 
 y. M. Neale. 1851, 
 
 THUS saith God of His Anointed ; 
 He ftiall let my people go ; 
 'T is the work for Him appointed, 
 'T is the work that He ftiall do ; 
 And my city 
 He {hall found, and build it too. 
 
I 
 
 In Tune of War, 
 
 He whom man with scorn refuses, 
 
 Whom the favored nation hates, 
 He it is Jehovah chooses. 
 
 Him the higheft place awaits ; 
 Kings and princes 
 Shall do homage at His gates. 
 
 He fhall humble all the scorners, 
 He fhall fill His foes with fhame ; 
 
 He (hall raise and comfort mourners 
 By the sweetness of His name ; 
 To the captives 
 
 He fhall liberty proclaim. 
 
 He fhall gather those that wandered ; 
 
 When they hear the trumpet's sound, 
 They fhall join the sacred ftandard. 
 They fhall come and flock around ; 
 He fhall save them. 
 They fhall be with glory crowned. 
 
 Thomas Kelley. 1^09. 
 
 PRAYER BEFORE BATTLE. 
 
 FATHER, I call on thee. 
 Through the dun smoke and the clangor of battle. 
 The lightning and dread thunder's rattle ; 
 War's great Dispenser, I call on thee. 
 Thou, Father, lead me. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 15 
 
 Thou, Father, lead me ; 
 
 
 Lead me to victory, or lead me to death. 
 
 
 Lord, in thy hand is my breath ; 
 
 
 1 yOrn 'A'i, tnnii willpir <^^ Ip3n me 
 
 
 God, I would know thee. 
 
 
 God, I would know thee ; 
 
 
 When, like the autumn leaves driven together, 
 
 
 Hofts meet in war's thunder-weather. 
 
 
 Sniirrp fif mv (aith T wniild know thee 
 
 kjv_iuiv^v^ yj v iiiy x wv^uivi iviiwvv cii^v^. 
 
 
 Thou, Father, bless me. 
 
 
 Thou, Father, bless me. 
 
 
 Into thy hands would my freed spirit go ; 
 
 
 Recall it, for thou didft beftow. 
 
 
 In life and in death do thou bless me. 
 
 
 Father, I praise thee. 
 
 
 Father, I praise thee. 
 
 
 This is the field for the fight of the Lord \ 
 
 
 Guard we our faith with the sword. 
 
 
 In fall nr in truimnh T nral<sp thpp 
 
 J.11 idil \J\. Ill LllUlll^ll, A |Jl£lloV^ tllV^V^. 
 
 
 God, I give all to thee. 
 
 
 God, I give all to thee. 
 
 
 When, on the battle-field, death sends me greeting. 
 
 When my warm life-blood is fleeting, 
 
 
 Take me, for thou haft redeemed me. 
 
 
 Father, I call on thee. 
 
 
 From the German of Korner. 1791- i8 
 
 •3- 
 
i6 
 
 In Time of IVar. 
 
 PSALM. 
 
 A SAFE ftronghold our God is ftill, 
 A trufty fhield and weapon ; 
 He '11 help us clear from all the ill 
 That hath us now o'ertaken. 
 The ancient prince of Hell 
 Hath risen with purpose fell ; 
 Strong mail of craft and power 
 He weareth in this hour : 
 On earth is not his fellow. 
 
 With force of arms we nothing can ; 
 
 Full soon were we down-ridden, 
 But for us fights the proper man, 
 Whom God himself hath bidden. 
 Alk ye, who is this same ? 
 Chrift Jesus is his name. 
 The Lord Zebaoth's Son : 
 He, and no other one. 
 Shall conquer in the battle. 
 
 And were this world all devils o'er 
 And watching to devour us, 
 
 We lay it not to heart so sore. 
 Not that they can overpower us. 
 
In Time of War, 
 
 And let the prince of Hell 
 Look grim as e'er he will, 
 He harms us not a whit ; 
 For why ? His doom is writ, 
 A word fhall quickly flay him. 
 
 God's word, for all their craft and force. 
 
 One moment will not linger. 
 But, spite of Hell, fhall have its course : 
 'Tis written by his finger. 
 
 And though they take our life. 
 Goods, honor, children, wife. 
 Yet is their profit small : 
 These things fhall vanifh all. 
 The City of God remaineth. 
 
 Martin Luther. 1483- 1501. 
 
 BURIED TOGETHER. 
 
 TO COLONEL ROBERT G. SHAW. 
 
 O FAIR-HAIRED Northern hero. 
 With thy guard of dufky hue. 
 Up from the field of battle 
 Rise to the laft review! 
 
i8 
 
 In Time of War, 
 
 Sweep downwards, holy angels, 
 
 In legions dazzling bright. 
 And bear these souls together 
 
 Before Chrift's throne of light. 
 
 The Mafter, who remembers 
 
 The cross, the thorns, the spear. 
 
 Smiles on the risen freedmen, 
 As their ransomed souls appear. 
 
 And thou, young, generous spirit. 
 
 What will thy welcome be ? 
 " Thou haft aided the down-trodden. 
 
 Thou haft done it unto me ! " 
 
 Mrs. R. a Waterjlon. 
 
 C"^ O to the grave in all thy glorious prime, 
 ^ In full activity of zeal and power ; 
 A Chriftian cannot die before his time ; 
 
 The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 
 
 Go to the grave ; at noon from labor cease ; 
 
 Reft on thy fheaves ; thy harveft-talk is done j 
 Come from the heat of battle, and in peace. 
 
 Soldier, go home ; with thee the fight is won. 
 
In Time of War, 19 
 
 Go to the grave ; for there thy Saviour lay 
 In death's embrace, ere he arose on high ; 
 
 And all the ransomed, by that narrow u^ay. 
 Pass to eternal life beyond the Iky. 
 
 Go to the grave ; — no ; take thy seat above ; 
 
 Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord, 
 Where thou for faith and hope haft perfedt love. 
 
 And open vilion for the written word. 
 
 J. Montgomery, 1 803 - 1 8 5 3 . 
 
 OHOLY Father, juft and true 
 Are all thy works and words and ways. 
 And unto thee alone are due 
 
 Thanksgiving and eternal praise ! 
 As children of thy gracious care, 
 
 We veil the eye, we bend the knee. 
 With broken words of praise and prayer. 
 Father and God, we come to thee. 
 
 For thou haft heard, O God of right. 
 The fighing of the hapless flave ; 
 
 And ftretched for him the arm of might, 
 Not ftiortened that it could not save. 
 
In Time of IVar, 
 
 The laborer fits beneath his vine, 
 
 The {hackled soul and hand are free ; — 
 
 Thanksgiving! — for the work is thine! 
 Praise ! — for the blelling is of thee. 
 
 Speed on thy work, Lord God of hofls ! 
 
 And when the bondsman's chain is riven, 
 And swells from all our country's coafts 
 
 The anthem of the free to heaven, 
 O, not to those whom thou hafi: led. 
 
 As with thy cloud and fire before, 
 But unto thee, in fear and dread. 
 
 Be praise and glory evermore. 
 
 J. G. mittier. 
 
 PREPARE YE THE WAY OF THE LORD. 
 
 A VOICE from the desert comes awful and fhrill ; 
 The Lord is advancing ; prepare ye the way ! 
 The word of his promise he comes to fulfil. 
 And o'er the dark world pour the splendor of day. 
 
 Bring down the proud mountain, though towering to heaven, 
 And be the low valley exalted on high ; 
 The rough path and crooked be made smooth and even, 
 He Cometh ! our King, our Redeemer is nigh. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 21 
 
 The beams of salvation his progress illume, 
 The lone, dreary wilderness fings of her God ; 
 The rose and the myrtle there suddenly bloom, 
 And the olive of peace spreads its branches abroad. 
 
 Drummond. 1 5 8 5 - 1 649 . 
 
 OPPRESSION fhall not always reign; 
 There comes a brighter day, 
 When freedom, burft from every chain. 
 
 Shall have triumphant way. 
 Then right fhall over might prevail. 
 And truth, like hero armed in mail, 
 The hofts of tyrant wrong afTail, 
 And hold eternal sway. 
 
 What voice fhall bid the progress ftay 
 
 Of truth's victorious car ? 
 What arm arreft the growing day. 
 
 Or quench the solar ftar ? 
 What reckless soul, though ftout and ftrong, 
 Shall dare bring back the ancient wrong, 
 Oppreflion's guilty night prolong. 
 
 And freedom's morning bar ? 
 
 The hour of triumph comes apace. 
 The fated, promised hour. 
 
22 
 
 In T^iTTie of IVar. 
 
 When earth upon a ransomed race 
 Her bounteous gifts fhall fhower. 
 
 Ring, Liberty, thy glorious bell ! 
 
 Bid high thy sacred banner swell ! 
 
 Let trump on trump the triumph tell 
 Of Heaven's redeeming power. 
 
 Rev. H. Ware, Jr. 
 
 OUT of the dark the circling sphere 
 Is rounding onward to the light ; 
 We see not yet the full day here. 
 But we do see the paling night ; 
 
 And Hope, that lights her fadeless fires, 
 And Faith, that fhines, a heavenly will. 
 And Love, that courage reinspires, — 
 These ftars have been above us ftill. 
 
 O sentinels ! whose tread we heard. 
 Through long hours when we could not see. 
 Pause now ; exchange with cheer the word. 
 The unchanging watchword, — Liberty! 
 
 Look backward, how much has been won ! 
 Look round, how much is yet to win ! 
 The watches of the night are done ; 
 The watches of the day begin. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 23 
 
 O Thou, whose mighty patience holds 
 The day and night alike in view, 
 Thy will our deareft hopes enfolds, 
 O keep us fteadfaft, patient, true ! 
 
 Rev, S. Longfellow. 
 
 CLEAR THE WAY. 
 
 EN of thought ! be up and ftirring 
 Night and day ! 
 
 Sow the seed, withdraw the curtain. 
 
 Clear the way ! 
 Men of a£tion, aid and cheer them 
 
 As ye may ! 
 There 's a fount about to ftream ; 
 There 's a light about to beam \ 
 There 's a warmth about to glow ; 
 There 's a flower about to blow \ 
 There 's a midnight blackness changing 
 
 Into gray. 
 Men of thought and men of a6lion, 
 
 Clear the way ! 
 
 Once the welcome light has broken, 
 
 Who fhall say 
 What the unimagined glories 
 
 Of the day ? 
 
24 
 
 In Time of I Far. 
 
 What the evil that fhall perifh 
 
 In its ray ? 
 Aid the dawning, tongue and pen ; 
 Aid it, hopes of honeft men ; 
 Aid it, paper ; aid it, type ; 
 Aid it, for the hour is ripe ; 
 And our earneft muft not flacken 
 
 Into play. 
 Men of thought and men of a6fion, 
 
 Clear the way ! 
 
 Lo ! a cloud 's about to vanifh 
 
 From the day ; 
 Lo ! the right 's about to conquer, — 
 
 Clear the way ! 
 And a brazen wrong to crumble 
 
 Into clay. 
 With that right fhall many more 
 Enter smiling at the door ; 
 With the giant wrong fhall fall 
 Many others, great and small. 
 That for ages long have held us 
 
 For their prey. 
 Men of thought and men of a6lion, 
 
 Clear the way ! 
 
 Charles Mack ay. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 25 
 
 O ISRAEL, to thy tents repair : 
 Why thus secure on hoftile ground ? 
 Thy King commands " thee to beware, 
 For many foes thy camp surround. 
 
 The trumpet gives a martial ftrain : 
 O Israel, gird thee for the fight ! 
 
 Arise, the combat to maintain, 
 And put thine enemies to flight ! 
 
 Thou fhouldft not fleep as others do ; 
 
 Awake ; be vigilant ; be brave ! 
 The coward and the fluggard too 
 
 Must wear the fetters of the flave. 
 
 A nobler lot is caft for thee ; 
 
 A kingdom waits thee in the fkies : 
 With such a hope, (hall Israel flee. 
 
 Or yield, through weariness, the prize ? 
 
 No ! let a careless world repose 
 
 And flumber on through life's fhort day. 
 
 While Israel to the confli6l goes. 
 And bears the glorious prize away ! 
 
 Thomas Kelly, 1806. 
 
26 
 
 In Time of War. 
 
 BE STRONG, FEAR NOT. 
 
 PRISONERS of hope ! be ftrong, be bold ; 
 Caft off your doubts, disdain to fear ! 
 The day which prophets have foretold, 
 And saints have longed for, draweth near : 
 Our God {hall in his kingdom come ; 
 Prepare your hearts to make him room ! 
 
 O ye of fearful hearts^ be ftrong ! 
 Your downcaft eyes and hands lift up. 
 Doubt not, nor cry, " O God, how long ? " 
 Hope to the end, in patience hope ! 
 O, never from your faith remove ; 
 Ye cannot fail, for God is love ! 
 
 Lord, we have faith ; we wait the hour 
 Which to the earth thy kingdom brings ; 
 When thou, in love and joy and power, 
 Shalt come and make us priefts and kings ; 
 When man fhall be indeed thy son. 
 And thy pure will on earth be done. 
 
In Time of War. 27 
 
 A SOLDIER'S course, from battles won 
 To new-commencing ftrife ; 
 A pilgrim's, reftless as the sun ; 
 Behold the Chriftian's Hfe ! 
 
 Prepared the trumpet's call to greet, 
 
 Soldier of Jesus, ftand ! 
 Pilgrim of Chrift, with ready feet 
 
 Await thy Lord's .command. 
 
 The hofts of Satan pant for spoil ; 
 
 How can thy warfare close ? 
 Lonely, thou treadft a foreign soil ; 
 
 How canft thou hope repose ? 
 
 Seek, soldier! pilgrim! seek thine home. 
 
 Revealed in sacred lore ; 
 The land whence pilgrims never roam, 
 
 Where soldiers war no more ; — 
 
 Where grief fhall never wound, nor death 
 
 Difturb the Saviour's reign ; 
 Nor fin, with peftilential breath. 
 
 His holy realm profane ; — 
 
28 
 
 In Time of War. 
 
 Where founts of life their treasures yield 
 
 In ftreams that never cease ; 
 Where everlafting mountains fhield 
 
 Vales of eternal peace : 
 
 Where they who meet fhall never part ; 
 
 Where grace achieves its plan ; 
 And God, uniting every heart, 
 
 Dwells face to face with man. 
 
 Thomas Gifborne. 1803. 
 
 LUTHER'S PRAYER. 
 
 OUR God, our Father, with us ftay. 
 And make us keep thy narrow way ; 
 Free us from fin and all its power ; 
 Give us a joyful dying hour ; 
 Deliver us from Satan's arts. 
 And let us build our hopes on thee, 
 Down in our very heart of hearts ! 
 O God, may we true servants be. 
 And serve thee ever perfectly. 
 Help us, with all thy children here, 
 To fight and flee with holy fear ; 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 Flee from temptation, and to fight 
 With thine own weapons for the right ; 
 Amen ! Amen ! so let it be ! 
 So ftiall we ever fing to Thee, 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 1483- 1501 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 IT came upon the midnight clear, 
 That glorious song of old. 
 From angels bending near the earth 
 To touch their harps of gold, — 
 " Peace to the earth, good-will to men. 
 
 From Heaven's all-gracious King": 
 The world in solemn ftillness lay, 
 To hear the angels fing. 
 
 Still through the cloven fkies they come. 
 
 With peaceful wings unfurled ; 
 And fl:ill their heavenly mufic floats 
 
 O'er all the weary world : 
 Above its sad and lowly plains 
 
 They bend on heavenly wing, 
 And ever o'er its Babel sounds 
 
 The blefl^ed angels fing. 
 
30 
 
 In Time of War. 
 
 Yet with the woes of fin and ftrife 
 
 The world has suffered long ; 
 Beneath the angel-ftrain have rolled 
 
 Two thousand years of wrong ; 
 And men, at war with men, hear not 
 
 The love-song which they bring : 
 O, hufh the noise, ye men of ftrife, 
 
 And hear the angels fing ! 
 
 And ye, beneath life's crufhing load, 
 
 Whose forms are bending low. 
 Who toil along the climbing way 
 
 With painful fteps and flow ; 
 Look now ! for glad and golden hours 
 
 Come swiftly on the wing : 
 O, reft befide the weary road. 
 
 And hear the angels fing ! 
 
 For lo ! the days are haftening on. 
 
 By prophet bards foretold. 
 When with the ever-circling years 
 
 Comes round the age of gold ; 
 When Peace ftiall over all the earth 
 
 Its ancient splendors fling. 
 And the whole world send back the song 
 
 Which now the angels fing. 
 
 Rev. E. H. Sears. 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 THE WORD. 
 
 IN the beginning was the Word : 
 Athwart the chaos-night 
 It gleamed with quick creative power, 
 And there was life and light. 
 
 Thy Word, O God ! is living yet. 
 
 Amid earth's reftless ftrife, 
 New harmony creating ftill, 
 
 And ever higher life. 
 
 And as that Word moves surely on, 
 
 The light, ray after ray, 
 Streams farther out athwart the dark. 
 
 And night grows into day. 
 
 O Word that broke the ftillness firft, 
 Sound on ! and never cease. 
 
 Till all Earth's darkness be made light; 
 And all her discord peace ! 
 
 Till — wail of woe and clank of chain 
 And bruit of battle ftilled — 
 
 The world with thy great mufic's pulse, 
 O Word of Love ! be thrilled ; — 
 
32 In Time of War. 
 
 Till selfifli paflion, ftrife, and wrong 
 Thy summons fhall have heard, 
 
 And thy creation be complete, 
 O Thou Eternal Word ! 
 
 Rev. S. Longfellow. 
 
 PEACE ON EARTH. 
 
 OFOR the coming of the end, 
 The laft long Sabbath day of time. 
 When peace from heaven fhall descend, 
 Like light on every clime. 
 
 For men in fhips far off at sea 
 Shall hear the happy nations raise 
 
 The song of peace and liberty. 
 And overflovi^ing praise. 
 
 Mankind (hall be one brotherhood ; 
 
 One human soul fhall fill the earth, 
 And God fliall say, The world is good 
 
 As when I gave it birth." 
 
In Time of War. 
 
 33 
 
 CHRIST 
 
 THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. 
 
 OTHOU great Friend to all the sons of men, 
 Who once appeared in humbleft guise below, 
 Sin to rebuke, to break the captive's chain, 
 
 And call thy brethren forth from want and woe, — 
 
 We look to thee ! thy truth is ftill the Light 
 Which guides the nations, groping on their way. 
 
 Stumbling and falling in disaftrous night. 
 Yet hoping ever for the perfed: day. 
 
 Yes ; thou art ftill the Life, thou art the Way 
 
 The holieft know ; Light, Life, the Way of heaven ! 
 
 And they who deareft hope and deepeft pray 
 
 Toil by the Light, Life, Way, which thou haft given. 
 
 Kev, Theodore Parker, 
 
 THE POWER OF JESUS. 
 
 STRONG-SOULED Reformer, whose far-seeing faith 
 Of lifted cry and tumult had no need, — 
 
34 
 
 In Time of War. 
 
 Who ftayedft the lightnings of thy holy wrath 
 With pitying love, to spare the bruised reed, — 
 Thy will to save, thy ftrength to conquer, flowed 
 From seas of tenderness and might in God. 
 
 Thy living word sprang from the heart of man 
 
 Eternal word of love and liberty : 
 
 Fearless thou gav'ft it to the winds again ; 
 
 'T was Manhood's native tongue, and could not die. 
 
 To thy dear brotherhood life's pulses leap ; 
 
 And wakening ages answer, deep to deep. 
 
 Rev. S. 'Johnson. 
 
AFFLICTION. 
 
 BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN. 
 
 FROM lips divine, like healing balm 
 To hearts opprefled and torn, 
 The heavenly consolation fell, 
 " BlelTed are they that mourn." 
 
 Unto the hopes by sorrow cruftied 
 
 A noble faith succeeds ; 
 And life, by trials furrowed, bears 
 
 The fruit of loving deeds. 
 
 How rich, how sweet, how full of ftrength. 
 
 Our human spirits are. 
 Baptized into the san(S^:ities 
 
 Of suffering and of prayer ! 
 
 Yes, heavenly wisdom, love divine. 
 Breathed through the lips which said, 
 
 " O bleffed are the hearts that mourn ; 
 They ftiall be comforted." 
 
36 
 
 Affllaion. 
 
 THE GUIDING HAND. 
 " Caft thy burden upon the Lord." — Psalm Iv. az. 
 
 IS this the way, my Father t 'T is, my child. 
 Thou muft pass through this tangled, dreary wild, 
 If thou wouldft reach the city, undeftled. 
 
 Thy peaceful home above. 
 
 But enemies are round ! Yes, child, I know 
 That where thou leaft expe6left thou 'It find a foe ; 
 But victor thou (halt prove o'er all below. 
 
 Only seek ftrength above. 
 
 My Father, it is dark ! Child, take my hand. 
 Cling close to me ; I '11 lead thee through the land ; 
 Truft my all-seeing care ; so fhalt thou ftand 
 
 'Midft glory bright above. 
 
 My footfteps seem to Aide ! Child, only raise 
 Thine eye to me, then in these flippery ways 
 I will hold up thy goings ; thou flialt praise 
 
 Me for each ftep above. 
 
 O Father, I am weary ! Child, lean thy head 
 Upon my breaft. It was my love that spread 
 Thy rugged path ; hope on, till I have said, 
 
 "Reft, reft for aye, above." 
 
AfflMon. 
 
 37 
 
 • 
 
 A FIRST SORROW. 
 
 
 A RISE ! this day fhall fhine, 
 ±\. P'orevermore, 
 TTo thee a ftar divine, 
 
 On Time's dark fhore. 
 
 
 Till now thy soul has been 
 All glad and gay : 
 
 r?in It jiwukp Jinn Innlf 
 
 At grief to-day ! 
 
 
 No fhade has come between 
 Thee and the sun \ 
 
 IjIkP snmp Inner pViilni'Tn rlrp^im 
 
 Thy life has run : 
 
 
 But now the ftream has reached 
 
 A dark, deep sea, 
 And Sorrow, dim and crowned, 
 
 Is waiting thee. 
 
 
 Each of God's soldiers bears 
 
 A sword divine : 
 Stretch out thy trembling hands 
 
 To-day for thine ! 
 
 
38 
 
 Affilaion. 
 
 To each anointed Priert 
 
 God's summons came : 
 O soul, He speaks to-day, 
 
 And calls thy name. 
 
 Then, with flow, reverent ftep, 
 
 And beating heart, 
 From out thy joyous days 
 
 Thou muft depart. 
 
 And, leaving all behind, 
 
 Come forth alone. 
 To join the chosen band 
 
 Around the throne. 
 
 Raise up thine eyes, — be ftrong. 
 
 Nor caft away 
 The crown that God has given 
 
 Thy soul to-day ! 
 
 Miss A. A. Proper, 
 
 "ONLY A YEAR." 
 
 ONE year ago, — a ringing voice, 
 A clear blue eye. 
 And cluftering curls of sunny hair. 
 Too fair to die. 
 
 
 
Affliaion. 
 
 39 
 
 Only a year, — no voice, no smile, 
 
 No glance of eye, 
 No cluftering curls of golden hair, 
 
 Fair but to die ! 
 
 One year ago, — what loves, what schemes 
 
 Far into life ! 
 What joyous hopes, what high resolves. 
 
 What generous ftrife ! 
 
 The filent picture on the wall. 
 
 The burial ftone. 
 Of all that beauty, life, and joy. 
 
 Remain alone ! 
 
 One year, — one year, — one little year, — 
 
 And so much gone ! 
 And yet the even flow of life 
 
 Moves calmly on. 
 
 The grave grows green, the flowers bloom fair. 
 
 Above that head ; 
 No sorrowing tint of leaf or spray 
 
 Says he is dead. 
 
 No pause or hufli of merry birds 
 
 That fing above 
 Tells us how coldly fleeps below 
 
 The form we love. 
 
40 
 
 Affliaion. 
 
 Where haft thou been this year, beloved ? 
 
 What haft thou seen ? 
 What vifions fair, what glorious life. 
 
 Where thou haft been ? 
 
 The veil ! the veil ! so thin, so ftrong ! 
 
 'Twixt us and thee ; 
 The myftic veil ! when ftiall it fall, 
 
 That we may see ? 
 
 Not dead, not fleeping, not even gone ; 
 
 But present ftill. 
 And waiting for the coming hour 
 
 Of God's sweet will. 
 
 Lord of the living and the dead. 
 
 Our Saviour dear ! 
 We lay in filence at thy feet 
 
 This sad, sad year ! 
 
 Mrs. H. B. Stowe. 
 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 
 GOD moves in a myfterious way 
 His wonders to perform ; 
 He plants his footfteps in the sea. 
 And rides upon the ftorm. 
 
r 
 
 Affliaion. 
 
 41 
 
 Deep in unfathomable mines 
 
 Of never-failing fkill 
 He treasures up his bright defigns, 
 
 And works his sovereign will. 
 
 Ye fearful saints, frefh courage take ; 
 
 The clouds ye so much dread 
 Are big with mercy, and fhall break 
 
 In bleffings on your head. 
 
 Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, 
 But truft him for his grace ; 
 
 Behind a frowning Providence 
 He hides a smiling face. 
 
 His purposes will ripen faft, 
 
 Unfolding every hour ; 
 The bud may have a bitter tafte, 
 
 But sweet will be the flower. 
 
 Blind unbelief is sure to err, 
 
 And scan his work in vain ; 
 
 God is his own interpreter, 
 
 And he will make it plain. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
42 
 
 Afflithon. 
 
 
 BE STILL! 
 
 
 pEACE! Be ftiU ! 
 
 JL In this night of sorrow bow, 
 O my heart, contend not thou ! 
 What befalls thee is God's will, — 
 Peace! Be ftill ! 
 
 
 Peace! Be ftill ! 
 
 All thy murmuring words are vain, — 
 God will make the riddle plain : 
 Wait his word, and bear his will, — 
 Peace! Be ftill! 
 
 
 Hold thee ftill ! 
 
 Though the Father scourge thee sore. 
 Cling thou to him all the more. 
 Let him mercy's work fulfil ! 
 Hold thee ftill! 
 
 
 Hold thee ftill! 
 
 Though the good Phyfician's knife 
 Seem to touch thy very life. 
 
 Hold thee ftill ! 
 
Affliaion. 
 
 43 
 
 Lord, my God ! 
 Give nie grace, that I may be 
 Thy true child, and filently 
 Own thy sceptre and thy rod. 
 Lord, my God ! 
 
 Shepherd mine ! 
 From thy fulness give me ftill 
 Faith to do and bear Thy will. 
 Till the morning light (hall fhine, — 
 Shepherd mine ! 
 
 From the German. 
 
 HOLY TEARS. 
 
 YES, thou mayft weep, for Jesus ftied 
 Such tears as those thou (heddeft now. 
 When for the living or the dead 
 Sorrow lay heavy on his brow. 
 
 He sees thee weep, yet doth not blame 
 The weakness of thy flefh and heart ; 
 
 Thy human nature is the same 
 As that in which he took a part. 
 
 He knows its weakness, for he felt 
 The cruftiing power of pain and woe. 
 
44 
 
 Affli^ion. 
 
 How body, soul, and spirit melt, 
 
 And faint beneath the ftunning blow. 
 
 What if poor finners count thy grief 
 The fign of an unchaltened will ? 
 
 He who can give thy soul relief 
 
 Knows that thou art submiffive ftill. 
 
 Turn thee to Him, to Him alone ; 
 
 For all that our poor lips can say 
 To soothe thee, broken-hearted one. 
 
 Would fail to comfort thee to-day. 
 
 We will not speak to thee, but fit 
 In prayerful filence by thy fide : 
 
 Grief has its ebbs and flows ; 't is fit 
 Our love (hould wait the ebbing tide. 
 
 Jesus himself will comfort thee. 
 
 In his own time, in his own way ; 
 
 And haply more than two or three " 
 Unite in prayer for thee to-day. 
 
Afflia'ion, 45 
 
 ALL, ALL IS KNOWN TO THEE. 
 
 " When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then thou kneweft my 
 path." — Psalm cxlii. 3. 
 
 MY God, whose gracious pity I may claim, 
 Calling thee feather, sweet, endearing name ! 
 The sufferings of this weak and weary frame, 
 All, all are known to Thee. 
 
 From human eye 't is better to conceal 
 Much that I suffer, much I hourly feel ; 
 But oh ! the thought does tranquillize and heal, — 
 All, all is known to Thee. 
 
 Each secret conflict with indwelling sin. 
 
 Each fickening fear I ne'er the prize (hall win. 
 
 Each pang from irritation, turmoil, din, — 
 
 All, all are known to Thee. 
 
 Nay, all by Thee is ordered, chosen, planned, — 
 . Each drop that fills my daily cup ; thy hand 
 Prescribes for ills none else can underftand. 
 
 All, all is known to Thee. 
 
46 Ajfliaion, 
 
 Nor will the bitter draught diftafteful prove, 
 When I recall the Son of thy dear love ; 
 The cup thou wouldft not for our sakes remove, 
 That cup he drank for me. 
 
 And welcome, precious can his Spirit make 
 My little drop of suffering for his sake. 
 Father, the cup I drink, the path I take, — 
 All, all is known to Thee. 
 
 Adelaide L, Newton. 
 
 THE ETERNAL YEARS. 
 
 " While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which 
 are not seen : for the things which are seen are temporal j but the things 
 which are not seen are eternal." — 2 Cor. iv. 18 
 
 HOW ftialt thou bear the cross that now 
 So dread a weight appears } 
 Keep quietly to God, and think 
 Upon the Eternal Years. 
 
 Aufterity is little help. 
 
 Although it somewhat cheers ; 
 Thine oil of gladness is the thought 
 
 Of the Eternal Years. 
 
Affliaion. 
 
 47 
 
 Set hours and written rule are good. 
 Long prayer can lay our fears ; 
 
 But it is better calm for thee 
 To count the Eternal Years. 
 
 Oh ! many things are good for souls, 
 In proper times and spheres ; 
 
 Thy present good is in the thought 
 Of the Eternal Years. 
 
 Thy self-upbraiding is a snare. 
 Though meekness it appears ; 
 
 More humbling is it far for thee 
 To face the Eternal Years. 
 
 Brave quiet is the thing for thee. 
 Chiding thy scrupulous fears ; 
 
 Learn to be real from the thought 
 Of the Eternal Years. 
 
 Bear gently, suffer like a child, 
 
 Nor be afhamed of tears ; 
 Kiss the sweet Cross, and in thy heart 
 
 Sing of the Eternal Years. 
 
 Thy Cross is quite enough for thee. 
 
 Though little it appears ; 
 For there is hid in it the weight 
 
 Of the Eternal Years. 
 
Affliaion. 
 
 And knovvft thou not how bitterness 
 
 An ailing spirit cheers ? 
 Thy medicine is the ftrengthening thought 
 
 Of the Eternal Years. 
 
 One Cross can sanctify a soul ; 
 
 Late saints and ancient seers 
 Were what they were because they mused 
 
 Upon the Eternal Years. 
 
 Death will have rainbows round it seen 
 Through calm contrition's tears, 
 
 If tranquil Hope but trims her lamp 
 At the Eternal Years. 
 
 Frederick Faher. 
 
 "WHAT ARE THESE IN BRIGHT ARRAY?" 
 
 W^HAT are these in bright array? 
 This innumerable throng, 
 Round the altar, night and day. 
 Hymning one triumphant song : 
 Worthy is the Lamb once flain, 
 BlelTing, honor, glory, power, 
 Wisdom, riches, to obtain. 
 New dominion every hour." 
 
Affliaion, 
 
 49 
 
 These through fiery trials trod ; 
 
 These from great afflidlion came ; 
 Now before the throne of God, 
 
 Sealed with his almighty name, 
 Clad in raiment pure and white, 
 
 Vi6tor-palms in every hand. 
 Through their dear Redeemer's might. 
 
 More than conquerors they ftand. 
 
 Hunger, thirft, disease unknown. 
 
 On immortal fruits they feed ; 
 Them the Lamb, amidft the throne. 
 
 Shall to living fountains lead : 
 Joy and gladness banifh fighs, 
 
 Perfe6l love dispels all fear. 
 And forever from their eyes 
 
 God fhall wipe away the tear. 
 
 'James Montgomery, 1803— 1853. 
 
 Take away the dross from the filver, and there fhall come forth a veflel 
 for the finer." — Prov. xxv. 4. 
 
 SICKNESS is a school severe, 
 Where the soul, (in childhood here,) 
 Wayward, 'neath a milder sway. 
 Learns to think, and learns to pray. 
 
50 
 
 Affliaion. 
 
 Bleft and wise its discipline, 
 There the teacher is divine. 
 
 Wert thou thoughtless, led away 
 
 Bv each folly of the day ? 
 
 Cleaving to the things of earth. 
 
 Mindless of thy heavenly birth ? 
 
 Bless the hours which broke their spell, 
 
 Made thee fick to make thee well. 
 
 Wert thou selfifli, thinking not 
 On the ftarving sufferer's lot ? 
 Fed with dainties, gavly drelled, 
 Wert thou by the poor unblelfed ? 
 Now for sufferers thou wilt feel, 
 God has wounded but to heal. 
 
 Wert thou fretful, harfli, unkind. 
 Finding nothing to thy mind ? 
 Though with countless mercies bleft, 
 Never thankful, ne'er at reft ? 
 Sickness comes to purge thy dross, 
 Prove thy gain, and not thy loss. 
 
 Wert thou proud, exalted high 
 By affluence, ftation, anceftry ? 
 Oft with supercilious ken 
 Glancing at thy fellow-men ? 
 God now ftrips thee,, lays thee low. 
 All thy nothingness to lliow. 
 
Affliaion. 
 
 51 
 
 Dwelt thy soul at ease, affured 
 All was well, and heaven secured ? 
 Didft thou need no better dress 
 Than thy fancied righteousness ? 
 Sickness comes to probe thy heart, 
 Comes to fhow thee what thou art. 
 
 Is the one thing needed moft 
 That which scarce thy mind has crofled ? 
 Haft thou earthly science prized, 
 But the themes of heaven despised ? 
 God now warns thee, thus he saith : 
 Soul, awake, thy lleep is death ! " 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
 BEREAVEMENT. 
 
 FLOW on, thou Fountain of my joy, 
 Through all the wilderness ! 
 Thou seeft what will work for good, 
 
 Thou knoweft how to bless. 
 Get thyself glory, O my God, 
 Be praised in my diftress ! 
 
 O, let Thy true, refining love 
 Its utmoft pleasure see ; 
 
52 
 
 Afflitiiou. 
 
 And litt not up Thv faithful hand 
 
 \Vhate'er mv cry may be, 
 Till I am llrong for Thy renown, 
 
 And pure for use to Thee. 
 
 I know Thine eve has weighed the path 
 To Thv loll creature's bliss. 
 
 No comfort could supplv the need 
 Of grief so sore as this ; 
 
 No jov could wake mv heart so well 
 To Thv full preciousness. 
 
 Thou wait the Source of all that lo\'e 
 Which makes me glad no more, — 
 
 And Thou halt taken to Thvself 
 What was Thine own before. 
 
 Thine, and mine too, O Good to 2;i\'e, 
 O Faithful to reilore. 
 
 That lo\ing spirit is withdrawn 
 
 From everv lliade of fin ; 
 And I in svmpathv with her 
 
 A holier life begin. 
 Yes ! to her new delight in Thee, 
 
 I, Lord, can enter in. 
 
 She with Thee, wheresoe'er Thou art, 
 
 In fellowlhip untold ! 
 She in Thee, li\ ing bv mv Bread, 
 
 AIv Hope, my heart's ftronghold ! 
 
AfflMon. 53 
 
 Oh ! 't is a song for days of grief, 
 Whate'er their depths unfold. 
 
 As one whose mother comforts him, 
 
 I will lift up my head. 
 No wound of Thine fhall take the life 
 
 From words which Thou haft said. 
 And in the fulness of Thy truth 
 
 I fhall be comforted. 
 
 Miss A, L. Waring, 
 
 "GOD DOTH NOT LEAVE HIS OWN." 
 
 GOD doth not leave his own ! 
 The night of weeping for a time may laft \ 
 Then, tears all paft, 
 His going forth fhall as the morning (hine ; 
 The sunrise of his favor fhall be thine, — 
 God doth not leave his own. 
 
 God doth not leave his own ! 
 Though " few and evil " all their days appear. 
 
 Though grief and fear 
 Come in the train of earth and hell's dark crowd. 
 The trufting heart says, even in the cloud, 
 
 God doth not leave his own. 
 
54 Affliaion. 
 
 God doth not leave his own ! 
 This sorrow in their life he doth permit, 
 
 Yea, iiseth it 
 To speed his children on their hea\enward way, — 
 He guides the winds. — P^aith, Hope and Lo\ e all sav 
 
 God doth not leave his own. 
 
 FAITH. 
 
 WE will not weep ; for God is Handing bv us, 
 And tears will blind us to the blelled fight ; 
 We will not doubt, if darkness llill doth trv us, 
 Our souls have promise of serenell light. 
 
 We will not faint, — if hea\ v burdens bind us, 
 Thev press no harder than our souls can bear. 
 
 The thornieft wav is King ftill behind us, 
 ^Ve lhall be bra\-er for the pall: despair. 
 
 O, not in doubt fhall be our journev's ending ; 
 
 Sin with its fears fhall leave us at the lall, — 
 All its bell hopes in glad fulfilment blending. 
 
 Life lhall be with us when the Death is pall. 
 
 Help us, O Father ! when the world is preffing 
 
 On our frail hearts, that faint without their friend, — 
 
AffiMon. 
 
 Help us, O Father ! let thy conftant bleffing 
 Strengthen our weakness — till the joyful end. 
 
 IV, H. Hurlburt. 
 
 55 
 
 WHY SEEK YE THE LIVING AMONG THE DEAD? 
 
 AH ! why (hould bitter tears be fhed 
 In sorrow o'er the mounded sod, 
 When verily there are no dead 
 Of all the children of our God ? 
 
 They who are loll: to outward sense 
 Have but flung off their robes of clav, 
 
 And, clothed in heavenly radiance, 
 Attend us on our lowly way. 
 
 And oft their spirits breathe in ours 
 
 The hope and ftrength and love of theirs, 
 
 Which bloom as bloom the early flowers 
 In breath of summer's viewless airs. 
 
 And filent aspirations ftart, 
 
 In promptings of their purer thought. 
 Which gently lead the troubled heart 
 
 To jovs not even Hope had wrought. 
 
Affllaion, 
 
 While sorrow's tears our eves have wet, 
 
 Shed o'er the consecrated dull, 
 Too much our darkened souls forget 
 
 The lellbns of enduring l^ulh 
 
 Let li\ing Faith serenelv pour 
 
 Her sunlight on our pathwav dim, 
 
 And Death can have no terrors more ; 
 But holv Jov lhall walk with him. 
 
 G. S. BurWigh. 
 
 THERE is a land where beaut v cannot fade. 
 Nor sorrow dim the eve ; 
 Where true love lhall not droop nor be dismayed, 1 
 And none lhall ever die ! 
 Where is that land, O where ? 
 For I would ha lien there ! 
 l^ell me, I fain would go. 
 For I am wearied with a hea\ v woe ! 
 The beautiful ha\ e left me all alone : 
 The true, the tender, from \\\\ path arc gone ! 
 O, guide me with th\- hand. 
 If thou doll know the land. 
 For I am burthened with opprellhe care, 
 And I am weak and fearful with despair! 
 
AffliSiion, 
 
 57 
 
 Where is it ? tell me where ? 
 Thou that art kind and gentle, tell me where ? 
 
 Friend, thou muft truft in him who trod before 
 
 The desolate paths of life ; 
 Muft bear in meekness, as he meekly bore. 
 
 Sorrow, and pain, and ftrife ! 
 
 Think how the Son of God 
 
 These thorny paths hath trod ; 
 
 Think how he longed to go. 
 Yet tarried out for thee the appointed woe : 
 Think of his weariness in places dim. 
 When no man comforted nor cared for him ! 
 
 Think of the blood-like sweat 
 
 With which his brow was wet. 
 Yet how he prayed, unaided and alone. 
 In that great agony, " Thy will be done ! " 
 
 Friend, do not thou despair, 
 Chrift from his heaven of heavens will hear thy prayer ! 
 
 From the German of Uhland. 1804. 
 
 THE INVITATIONS OF THE GOSPEL. 
 
 COME ! said Jesus' sacred voice. 
 Come, and make my paths your choice, 
 I will guide you to your home ; 
 Weary pilgrim, hither come ! 
 
58 
 
 Thou, who, houseless, sole, forlorn. 
 Long haft borne the proud world's scorn. 
 Long haft roamed the barren wnile, 
 Weapk- pilgrim, hither hafte ! 
 
 Ye, who, tolled on beds of pain. 
 Seek for ease, but seek in vain ; 
 e, whose swollen and fleepless e\ es 
 .uch to see the morninsj rise ; 
 
 Ye, by fiercer anguifli torn. 
 In remorse for guilt who mourn ; 
 Here repose your heavy care ! 
 Conscience wounded who can bear? 
 
 Sinner, come ! for here is found 
 Balm that flows for every wound ; 
 Peace that ever fliall endure ; 
 Reft eternal, sacred, sure. 
 
 J/r.f. BarhauLi. i S 2 ; . 
 
 •THAT Vt THROUGH HIS POVERTY .VOGHT BE RICH. 
 
 O'ER the dark wave of Galilee 
 The gloom of twilight gathers taft. 
 And on the waters drearily 
 
 Descends the fitful evening blaft. 
 
Affllalon. 
 
 The weary bird hath left the air, 
 And sunk into his (heltered neH ; 
 
 The wandering beaft has sought his lair, 
 And laid him down to welcome reft. 
 
 Still near the lake, with weary tread. 
 Lingers a form of human kind ; 
 
 And on his lone, unftieltered head 
 
 Flows the chill night-damp of the wind. 
 
 Why seeks He not a home of reft ? 
 
 Why seeks He not a pillowed bed ? 
 Beafts have their dens, the bird its neft ; 
 
 He hath not where to lay his head. 
 
 Such was the lot He freely chose. 
 To bless, to save, the human race ; 
 
 And through His poverty there flows 
 A rich, full ftream of heavenly grace. 
 
 Rujfell 
 
 CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE IN SUFFERING. 
 
 C"^ O to dark Gethsemane, 
 T Ye that feel temptation's power ; 
 Your Redeemer's conflidt see ; 
 
 Watch with him one bitter hour : 
 
Afflitlion. 
 
 Turn not from his griefs away ; 
 Learn of Jesus Chrift to pray. 
 
 Follow to the judgment-hall \ 
 
 View the Lord of life arraigned : 
 O the wormwood and the gall ! 
 
 O the pangs his soul suftained ! 
 Shun not suffering, fhame, or loss ; 
 Learn of him to bear the cross. 
 
 Calvary's mournful mountain climb ; 
 
 There, admiring at his feet, 
 Mark that miracle of time, 
 
 God's own sacrifice complete : 
 " It is finifhed," hear him cry ; 
 Learn of Jesus Chrifl to die. 
 
 Early haffen to the tomb 
 
 Where they laid his breathless clay ; 
 All is solitude and gloom : 
 
 Who has taken him away ? 
 Chrift is risen ; he meets our eyes : 
 Saviour, teach us so to rise ! 
 
 J, Montgomery, 1803-1853. 
 
AfflMon. 
 
 6i 
 
 FELLOWSHIP IN SUFFERING. 
 
 " That I may know Him, and tne power of His resurreftion, and the fellow- 
 Ihip of His sufferings." — Philippians iii. lo. 
 
 HUMBLY while my soul doth prove 
 Sweeteft joys of pardoning love, 
 Still, mv Saviour, doth it yearn 
 Love's deep myftery to learn, 
 In the fhadow of Thy cross 
 Counting earthly gain but loss. 
 Breathing ftill its fervent plea 
 For a closer life with Thee, 
 By that high and holy thing, 
 Fellowfhip in suffering. 
 
 O my Lord, the Crucified ! 
 Who for love of me haft died, 
 Mould me by Thy living breath 
 To the likeness of Thy death ; 
 While the thorns Thy brows entwine, 
 Let no flower-wreath reft on mine. 
 In Thy hands the cruel nail, 
 Blood-sweat on Thy forehead pale ; 
 Clasp me to Thy wounded side, 
 O my Lord the Crucified ! 
 
62 
 
 Afflia'ion. 
 
 Hands, love-clasped through charmed hours. 
 
 Feet that press the bruised flowers, 
 
 Is there aught for vou to dare 
 
 That ye may His fignet bear ? 
 
 In this easv, painless life, 
 
 Free from ftruggle, care, and Itrife, 
 
 E\er on mv doubting breall 
 
 Lies the fliadovv of unreft ; 
 
 This no path that Jesus trod ; 
 
 Can the smooth way lead to God ? 
 
 But when chaltening Ih'ipes descend. 
 Welcoming as friend doth friend, 
 Thy dear tokens, Lord, I know. 
 And to Thee unerring go j 
 Blelled tears flow warm and free. 
 Thou doll love me, — even me. 
 Pomp and ease, and praise of men, 
 All are loathed and scorned then, 
 Since mv Lord, my Love, hath died. 
 Mocked and scourged and crucified. 
 
 By the agonv and pain 
 
 Of the torture-ftricken brain, 
 
 Bv the riches of Thv love. 
 
 Let not suffering barren prove ; 
 
 Pledge and emblem 't would remain 
 
 Of the dark and sullen pain. 
 
Affli£lion, 
 
 Where nor love nor good doth Hve, 
 And the blefled word ''forgive" 
 Comes not with its subtle art, 
 Softening, healing, any heart. 
 
 In the little islet Time 
 
 Of Eternity sublime. 
 
 Standing on the doping brink. 
 
 Let me of Thy chalice drink. 
 
 Be baptized with Thy baptism, 
 
 And be crowned with Thy love-chrism; 
 
 Slain with Thee in darkeft hour, 
 
 Feel Thy resurre6lion power. 
 
 Till where Thou art I may be. 
 
 Perfected, dear Lord, with Thee ! 
 
 Chrijiian Mirror. 
 
 DEEM not that they are bleft alone 
 Whose days a peaceful tenor keep ; 
 The God who loves our race has fhown 
 A blefling for the eyes that weep. 
 
 The light of smiles (hall fill again 
 The lids that overflow with tears, 
 
 And weary hours of woe and pain 
 Are earnefts of serener years. 
 
64 
 
 Ajfliaion. 
 
 O, there are davs of hope and rell: 
 For ever\- dark and troubled night ! 
 
 And griet mav bide, an evening gueft, 
 But jov lhall come with earlv Hght. 
 
 And thou who o'er thy friend's low bier 
 Doll filed the bitter drops like raifi, 
 
 Hope that a brighter, happier sphere 
 Will gi\e him to thv arms again. 
 
 Nor let the good man's trulf depart. 
 Though life its common gifts denv ; 
 
 Though with a pierced and broken heart, 
 And spurned of men, he goes to die. 
 
 For God hath marked each anguillied da\', 
 And numbered e\'erv secret tear ; 
 
 And hea\ en's long age of bliss lliall pay 
 For all His children suffer here. 
 
 Jl'm. C. Br s ant. 
 
 FATHER, when o'er our trembling hearts 
 Doubt's fliadows gathering brood. 
 When faith in Thee almolt departs, 
 And gloomiell: fears intrude, 
 
Affliaion. 
 
 65 
 
 Forsake us not, O God of grace, 
 
 But send those fear^ relief ; 
 Grant us again to see Thy face ; 
 
 Lord, help our unbehef. 
 
 When sorrow comes, and joys are flown. 
 
 And fondeft hopes lie dead, 
 And blellings, long efteemed our own, 
 
 Are now forever fled, — 
 When the bright promise of our spring 
 
 Is but a withered leaf, — 
 Lord, to thy truths ftill let us cling ; 
 
 Help Thou our unbelief. 
 
 And when the powers of nature fail 
 
 Upon the couch of pain. 
 Nor love nor friendfhip can avail 
 
 The spirit to detain, 
 Then, Father, be our clofing eyes 
 
 Undimmed by tears of grief ; 
 And if a trembling doubt arise, 
 
 Help Thou our unbelief. 
 
 Rev, S. G. Bulfinch. 
 
 5 
 
66 
 
 THE REQUEST. 
 
 OTHOU who didft deny to me 
 This world's adored felicity, 
 And every big, imperious luft. 
 Which fools admire in finful duft 
 With those fine subtle twifts that tie 
 Their bundles of foul gallantry, — 
 Keep ftill my weak eyes from the fliine 
 Of those gay things which are not Thine ! 
 And fliut my ears againlt the noise 
 Of wicked, though applauded, joys ! 
 For Thou in any land haft ftore 
 Of (hades and coverts for Thy poor ; 
 Where from the busy duft and heat. 
 As well as ftorms, they may retreat. 
 A rock or bufti are downy beds. 
 When Thou art there, crowning their heads 
 With secret bleftings, or a tire 
 Made of the Comforter's live fire. 
 And when Thv goodness, in the dress 
 Of anger, will not seem to bless, 
 Yet doft Thou give them that rich rain, 
 Which, as it drops, clears all again. 
 O what kind vifits daily pass 
 'Twixt Thv great self and such poor grass ! 
 
Affliakn. 
 
 67 
 
 With what sweet looks doth Thy love ftiine 
 On those low violets of Thine, 
 While the tall tulip is accurrt, 
 And crown-imperials die with thirft ! 
 O give me ftill those secret meals, 
 Those rare repafts which Thy love deals ! 
 Give me that joy which none can grieve, 
 And which in all griefs doth relieve. 
 This is the portion Thy child begs ; 
 Not that of ruft, and rags, and dregs. 
 
 Henry Vaugh an. 1622- 1695. 
 
 AFFLICTION. 
 
 "For whom the Lord loveth he chafteneth." — Hebrews xxii. 6. 
 
 WHO, that a watcher doth remain 
 Befide a couch of mortal pain, 
 Deems he can ever smile again ? 
 
 Or who that weeps befide a bier 
 
 Counts he has any more to fear 
 
 From the world's flatteries false, and leer ? 
 
 And yet anon and he doth ftart 
 
 At the light toys in which his heart 
 
 Can now already claim its part. 
 
68 
 
 AfflMon, 
 
 O heart of ours ! so weak and poor, 
 That nothing there can long endure ; 
 And so their hurts find fhimeful cure, — 
 
 While every sadder, wiser thought. 
 Each holier aim which sorrow brought. 
 Fades quite away, and Comes to naught. 
 
 O Thou who doft our weakness know, 
 Watch for us, that the ftrong hours so 
 Not wean us from our wholesome woe. 
 
 Grant Thou that we may long retain 
 The wholesome memories of pain, 
 Nor wifh to lose them soon again. 
 
 Richard Chenevix Trench. 
 
PATIENCE. 
 
 LIFE SPRINGING FROM DEATH. 
 
 THE seed muft die before the corn appears 
 Out of the ground, in blade and fruitful ears. 
 
 Low have these ears before the fickle lain, 
 Ere thou canft treasure up the golden grain. 
 
 The grain is cruflied before the bread is made, 
 And the bread broke ere life to man conveyed. 
 
 O be content to die, to be laid low. 
 And to be crufhed, and to be broken so. 
 
 If thou upon God's table mayft be bread, 
 Life-giving food for souls an hungered. 
 
 R. C, Trench. 
 
70 Patience. 
 
 A CITY THAT HATH FOUNDATIONS. 
 
 THEREFORE, O friend ! I would not, if I might, 
 Rebuild my house of lies wherein I joyed 
 One time to dwell ; my soul fhall walk in white, 
 Caft down, but not deftroyed. 
 
 Therefore in patience I poffess my soul ; 
 
 Yea, therefore as a flint I set my face. 
 To pluck down, to build up again the whole, — 
 
 But in a diftant place. 
 
 The thorns are (harp, yet I can tread on them ; 
 
 The cup is bitter, yet He makes it sweet ; 
 My face is fteadfaft toward Jerusalem, 
 
 My heart remembers it. 
 
 I lift the hanging hands, the feeble knees, — 
 
 I, precious more than seven times molten gold, — 
 
 Until the day when from his ftorehouses 
 God fhall bring new and old. 
 
 Beauty for afhes, oil of joy for grief. 
 
 Garment of praise for spirit of heaviness ; 
 
 Although to-day I fade as doth a leaf, 
 I languifh and grow less. 
 
Patience. 7 1 
 
 Although to-day He prunes my twigs with pain, 
 Yet doth His blood nourifh and warm my root 
 
 To-morrow I fhall put forth buds again, 
 And clothe myself with fruit. 
 
 Although to-day I walk in tedious ways, — 
 To-day His ftaff is turned into a rod, — 
 
 Yet will I wait for Him the appointed days. 
 And ftay upon my God. 
 
 Chrijiina Rojfetti. 
 
 VIA CRUCIS, VIA LUCIS. 
 
 THROUGH night to light! — And though to mortal 
 eyes 
 
 Creation's face a pall of horror wear. 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! The gloom of midnight flies ; 
 Then {hall a sunrise follow, mild and fair. 
 
 Through ftorm to calm ! — And though His thunder-car 
 The rumbling tempeft drive through earth and fky, 
 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! The elemental war 
 Tells that a blefled healing hour is nigh. 
 
 Through froft to spring ! — And though the biting blaft 
 
 Of Eurus ftifFen Nature's juicy veins. 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! When winter's wrath is paft, 
 
 Soft, murmuring spring breathes sweetly o'er the plains. 
 
r 
 
 72 
 
 Patience. 
 
 Through ftrife to peace ! — though, with briftling front, 
 A thousand frightful deaths encompass thee. 
 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! Brave thou the battle's brunt, 
 For the peace-march and song of victory. 
 
 Through sweat to fleep ! — And though the sultry noon 
 With hea\'v, drooping wing oppress thee now. 
 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! The cool of evening soon 
 Shall lull to sweet repose thv wearv brow. 
 
 Through cross to crown! — And though thv spirit's life 
 
 Trials untold aflail with giant ftrength. 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! Soon ends the bitter ftrife. 
 
 And thou fhalt reign in peace with Chrill at length. 
 
 Through woe to jov ' — And though at morn thou weep. 
 And though the midnight finds thee weeping ftill, 
 
 Good cheer ! good cheer ! The Shepherd loves his fheep : 
 Refign thee to the watchful Father's will. 
 
 Through death to life ! — And through this vale of tears, 
 And through this thiftle-field of life, ascend 
 
 To the great supper in that world whose years 
 Of bliss unfading, cloudless, know no end. 
 
 Kosegarten, 
 
Patience. 
 
 73 
 
 WHEN darkness long has veiled my mind, 
 And smiling day once more appears, 
 Then, my Creator ! then I find 
 The folly of my doubts and fears. 
 
 Straight I upbraid my wandering heart. 
 
 And blufh that I fhould ever be 
 Thus prone to a6l so base a part. 
 
 Or harbor one hard thought of Thee. 
 
 O, let me then at length be taught 
 What I am ftill so flow to learn, — 
 
 That God is love, and changes not. 
 Nor knows the ftiadow of a turn. 
 
 Sweet truth, and easy to repeat ! 
 
 But when my faith is fharply tried, 
 I find myself a learner yet, 
 
 Unfkilful, weak, and apt to flide. 
 
 But, O my God ! one look from Thee 
 
 Subdues the disobedient will. 
 Drives doubt and discontent away. 
 
 And thy rebellious child is ftill. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779= 
 
74 
 
 Patience. 
 
 "THY WILL BE DONE." 
 
 MY God, my Father ! while I ftray, 
 Far from my home, on Hfe's rough way, 
 
 0 teach me from my heart to say, 
 
 ''Thy will be done!" 
 
 Though dark my path, and sad my lot. 
 Let me "be ftill," and murmur not. 
 Or breathe the prayer, divinely taught, 
 "Thy will be done!" 
 
 What though in lonely grief I sigh 
 For friends beloved, no longer nigh; 
 Submiflive ftill would I reply, 
 
 "Thy will be done!" 
 
 If thou ftiouldft call me to refign 
 What moft I prize, it ne'er was mine 
 
 1 only yield thee what was thine : 
 
 Thy will be done ! " 
 
 Should pining fickness wafte away 
 My life in premature decay, 
 My Father ! ftill I ftrive to say, 
 "Thy will be done!" 
 
Patience. 
 
 IS 
 
 If but my fainting heart be bleft 
 With thy sweet spirit for its gueft, 
 My God ! to thee I leave the reft, — 
 ^'Thy will be done!" 
 
 Renew my will from day to day, 
 Blend it with thine, and take away 
 All now that makes it hard to say, 
 " Thy will be done ! " 
 
 Then, when on earth I breathe no more 
 The prayer, oft mixed with tears before, 
 I '11 fing upon a happier fhore, 
 
 ^'Thy will be done!" 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
 JUDGE NOT. 
 
 T UDGE not ; the workings of his brain 
 I And of his heart thou canft not see ; 
 What looks to thy dim eyes a ftain 
 In God's pure light may only be 
 A scar, brought from some well-won field. 
 Where thou wouldft only faint and yield. 
 
 The look, the air, that frets thy fight 
 May be a token that below 
 
76 
 
 Patience. 
 
 The soul has closed in deadly fight 
 
 With some infernal fiery foe, 
 Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, 
 And caft thee (huddering on thy face ! 
 
 The fall thou dareft to despise, — 
 May be the angel's flackened hand 
 
 Has suffered it, that he may rise 
 And take a firmer, surer ftand ; 
 
 Or, trufting less to earthly things. 
 
 May henceforth learn to use his wings. 
 
 And judge none loft ; but wait and see, 
 
 With hopeful pity, not disdain ; 
 The depth of the abyss may be 
 
 The measure of the height of pain 
 And love and glory that may raise 
 This soul to God in after days ! 
 
 Miss A. A. Proper. 
 
 HASTE NOT! REST NOT! 
 
 WITHOUT hafte! without reft! 
 Bind the motto to thy breaft ; 
 Bear it with thee as a spell ; 
 Storm or sunftiine, guard it well ! 
 
Patience. 
 
 11 
 
 Heed not flowers that round thee bloom, 
 Bear it onward to the tomb ! 
 
 Hafte not ! let no thoughtless deed 
 Mar for aye the spirit's speed ! 
 Ponder well and know the right, 
 Onward then with all thy might ! 
 Halte not ! years can ne'er atone 
 For one reckless a6lion done. 
 
 Reft not ! life is sweeping by. 
 Go and dare before you die : 
 Something mighty and sublime 
 Leave behind to conquer time ! 
 Glorious 't is to live for aye, 
 When these forms have passed away. 
 
 Hafte not ! reft not ! calmly wait ; 
 Meekly bear the ftorms of fate ! 
 Duty be thy polar guide, — 
 Do the right, whate'er betide ! 
 Hafte not ! reft not ! conflidls paft, 
 God ftiall crown thy work at laft. 
 
 From the German of Goethe, 1768. 
 
PRAYER. 
 
 EXHORTATION TO PRAYER. 
 
 NOT on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless 1 
 Compose thy weary limbs to reft ; 
 For they alone are bleft 
 With balmy fleep 
 Whom angels keep ; 
 Nor, though by care opprefled. 
 
 Or anxious sorrow. 
 Or thought in many a coil perplexed 
 For coming morrow, 
 Lay not thy head 
 On prayerless bed. 
 
 For who can tell, when fleep thine eye fhall close, 
 That earthly cares and woes 
 To thee may e'er return ? 
 Arouse, my soul ! 
 Slumber control. 
 And let thy lamp burn brightly ; 
 So fhall thine eyes discern 
 
Prayer. 
 
 79 
 
 Things pure and fightly ; 
 
 Taught by the spirit ; learn 
 Never on prayerless bed 
 To lay thine unbleft head. 
 
 Haft thou no pining want, or wifh, or care, 
 That calls for holy prayer ? 
 
 Has thy day been so bright 
 
 That in its flight 
 There is no trace of sorrow ? 
 And art thou sure to-morrow 
 
 Will be like this, and more 
 Abundant ? Doft thou yet lay up thy ftore. 
 
 And ftill make plans for more ? 
 
 Thou fool ! this very night 
 
 Thy soul may wing its flight. 
 
 Haft thou no being than thyself more dear, 
 That ploughs the ocean deep. 
 And when ftorms sweep 
 
 The wintry, lowering fky, 
 f'or whom thou wak'ft and weepeft ? 
 O when thy pangs are deepeft. 
 Seek then the covenant ark of prayer ! 
 For He that flumbereth not is there : 
 His ear is open to thy cry. 
 
 O, then, on prayerless bed 
 Lay not thy thoughtless head ! 
 
8o 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to {lumber ! 
 
 Till in communion bleft 
 
 With the eleft ye reft, 
 Those souls of countless number ; 
 
 And with them raise 
 
 The note of praise. 
 Reaching from earth to Heaven : 
 Chosen, redeemed, forgiven ! 
 
 So lay thv happy head, 
 
 Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed. 
 
 Margaret Mercer. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 " I will, therefore, that men pray everywhere, lifting up holy hands, with- 
 out wrath and doubting." — i Tim. ii. 8. 
 
 BE not afraid to prav, — to pray is right. 
 Pray, if thou canft, with hope ; but ever pray, 
 Though hope be weak, or sick with long delay ; 
 Pray in the darkness, if there be no light. 
 Far is the time, remote from human fight. 
 
 When war and discord on the earth (hall cease ; 
 Yet every prayer for universal peace 
 Avails the blefled time to expedite. 
 Whate'er is good to wifh, afk that of Heaven, 
 Though it be what thou canft not hope to see ; 
 
Prayer. 8 1 
 
 Pray to be perfect, though material leaven 
 
 P'orbid the spirit so on earth to be ; 
 But if for any wifh thou dareft not pray, 
 Then pray to God to caft that wifh away. 
 
 Hartley Coleridge. 1840. 
 
 THE PRAYERS I MAKE. 
 
 THE prayers I make will then be sweet indeed, 
 If Thou the spirit give by which I pray ; 
 My unaffifted heart is barren clay, 
 That of its native self can nothing feed ; 
 Of good and pious works Thou art the seed 
 
 That quickens only where Thou sayft it may. 
 Unless Thou fhow to us Thy own true way. 
 No man can find it : Father ! Thou muft lead ; 
 
 Do Thou then breathe those thoughts into my mind 
 By which such virtue may in me be bred 
 That in Thy holy footfteps I may tread ; 
 
 The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind. 
 That I may have the power to fing to Thee, 
 And sound Thy praises everlaftingly ! 
 
 Michel Angela. Tranjl. hy Wordsworth. 1474- 1564. 
 
 6 
 
82 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 LORD, teach us how to pray aright, 
 With reverence and with fear : 
 Though duft and ailies in Thy fight, 
 We may, we muft, draw near. 
 
 Burdened with guilt, convinced of fin. 
 In weakness, want, and woe, 
 
 Fightings without, and fears within. 
 Lord, whither fhall we go ? 
 
 God of all grace, we come to Thee 
 With broken, contrite hearts \ 
 
 Give what Thine eye delights to see, — 
 Truth in the inward parts. 
 
 Give deep humility ; the sense 
 
 Of godly sorrow give ; 
 A ftrong, defiring confidence. 
 
 To hear Thy voice and live ; 
 
 Patience, to watch, and wait, and weep. 
 
 Though mercy long delay ; 
 Courage our fainting souls to keep. 
 
 And truft Thee, though Thou flay. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 83 
 
 Give these, and then Thy will be done ; 
 
 Thus, ftrengthened with all might, 
 We, by Thy Spirit and Thy Son, 
 
 Shall pray, and pray aright. 
 
 parries Montgomery. 1803-1853. 
 
 THE LORD'S PRAYER. 
 
 IF any be diftrefled, and fain would gather 
 Some comfort, let him hafte unto 
 Our Father. 
 For we of hope and help are quite bereaven 
 Except Thou succor us 
 
 Who art in Heaven. 
 Thou fhoweft mercy, therefore for the same 
 We praise Thee, finging. 
 
 Hallowed be Thy name. 
 Of all our miseries caft up the sum ; 
 Show us Thy joys, and let 
 
 Thy kingdom come. 
 We mortal are, and alter from our birth ; 
 Thou conftant art. 
 
 Thy will be done on earth. 
 Thou madeft the earth as well as planets seven. 
 Thy name be blefled here 
 
 As 't is in Heaven. 
 
Nothing we have to use or debts to pay, 
 
 Except Thou gi\ e it us. 
 
 Give us this da\- 
 ^Vhc^e\vi[h to clothe us, wherewith to be ted. 
 For without Thee we want 
 
 Our d.iilv bread. 
 \\ e wan:, but we want no faults, tor no da\' palles 
 Bu: we do fm, — 
 
 Forgi\e us our trespalles. 
 No man tVom linning ever tree did h \ e ; 
 Forgive us. Lord, our fins. 
 
 As we forgive. 
 It we repent our fauhs. Thou ne'er disdaineit us ; 
 W'e pardon them 
 
 That trespass againll us ; 
 Forgive us that is pall, a new path tread us ; 
 Direct us alwavs in Thv faith, 
 
 And lead us — 
 ^Ve, Thine own people and Thv chosen nation — 
 Into all truth, but i 
 
 Not into temptation. | 
 Thou that of all good graces art the giver, 
 Surrer us not to wander, 
 
 But deliver 
 
 Us from the tierce aUaults of world and devil 
 And flelh, so lhalt Thou free us 
 
 From all evil. 
 To these petitions let both church and la\ men, 
 ^^''.:h one consent of heart and \'olce, say 
 
 Amen. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 85 
 
 COME, let us pray : 't is sweet to feel 
 That God himself is near ; 
 That, while we at his footftool kneel. 
 
 His mercy deigns to hear : 
 Though sorrows cloud life's dreary way, 
 This is our solace, — let us pray. 
 
 Come, let us pray : the burning brow, 
 The heart opprefled with care, 
 
 And all the woes that throng us now, 
 Will be relieved by prayer : 
 
 Our God will chase our griefs away ; 
 
 O glorious thought! — come, let us pray. 
 
 Come, let us pray : the mercy-seat 
 
 Invites the fervent prayer ; 
 Our Heavenly Father waits to greet 
 
 The contrite spirit there : 
 O loiter not, nor longer ftay 
 From Him who loves us; — let us pray. 
 
86 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 THE HOUR OF PRAYER. 
 
 MY God ! is any hour so sweet, 
 From blufh of morn to evening ftar, 
 As that which calls me to Thy feet, 
 The hour of prayer ? 
 
 Bleft is the tranquil hour of morn, 
 
 And bleft that hour of solemn eve, 
 When, on the wings of prayer upborne, 
 The world I leave. 
 
 Then is my ftrength by Thee renewed ; 
 
 Then are my fins by Thee forgiven ; 
 Then doft Thou cheer my solitude 
 With hopes of heaven. 
 
 No words can tell what sweet relief 
 There for my every want I find ; 
 What ftrength for warfare, balm for grief, 
 What peace of mind. 
 
 Huftied is each doubt, gone every fear ; 
 
 My spirit seems in heaven to ftay ; 
 And e'en the penitential tear 
 Is wiped away. 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 87 
 
 OLORD, turn not Thy face away 
 From them that lowly lie, 
 Lamenting sore their finful life 
 
 With tears and bitter cry ; 
 Thy mercy-gates are open wide 
 
 To them that mourn their fin ; 
 O (hut them not againft us, Lord, 
 But let us enter in. 
 
 We need not to confess our fault. 
 
 For surely Thou canft tell 
 What we have done, and what we are 
 
 Thou knoweft very well : 
 Wherefore, to beg and to entreat, 
 
 With tears we come to Thee, 
 As children that have done amiss 
 
 f^all at their father's knee. 
 
 And need we then, O Lord, repeat 
 
 The bleffing which we crave. 
 When Thou doft know, before we speak. 
 
 The thmg that we would have ? 
 Mercy, O Lord, mercy we afk. 
 
 This is the total sum ; 
 For mercy. Lord, is all our prayer ; 
 
 O let Thy mercy come ! 
 
 Variation by Bijhop Heber. 1827. 
 From 'John Mardly. 1562. 
 
88 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 HELP us, Lord ! each hour of need, 
 
 Help us in thought and word and deed. 
 Each hour on earth we live ! 
 
 O help us when our spirits bleed 
 
 With contrite anguifh sore ; 
 And when our hearts are cold and dead, 
 
 O help us, Lord, the more! 
 
 O help us, through the prayer of faith, 
 
 More firmly to believe ; 
 For ftill the more the servant hath. 
 
 The more (hall he receive. 
 
 If ftrangers to Thy fold we call. 
 
 Imploring at Thy feet 
 The crumbs that from Thy table fall, 
 
 'T is all we dare entreat. 
 
 But be it. Lord of mercy, all. 
 So Thou wilt grant but this : 
 
 The crumbs that from Thy table fall 
 Are light and life and bliss. 
 
 Thy heavenly succor give ; 
 
Prayer. 89 
 
 O help us, Jesus, from on high ! 
 
 We know no help but Thee : 
 O help us so to live and die 
 
 As Thine in heaven to be ! 
 
 H. H. Milman. 1827. 
 
 THE POWER OF TRUST. 
 
 MY God ! in life's moft doubtful hour. 
 In fharpeft pains of death, 
 Who waits on Thee hath peace and power. 
 Thou present help of faith ! 
 
 Thy crown of joy upon his head, 
 
 Thy light upon his face, 
 Through ftorms and ftrife thy Chrift could tread 
 
 On to the happy place. 
 
 And though the cross were fliarp and high. 
 
 The lifted Lord could see 
 The souls he loved drawn nearer by 
 
 His love's laft energy. 
 
 Help me, O God ! to seek, to win. 
 Through ftruggles and through prayer. 
 
 The faith which frees my soul from fm. 
 And brings Thy bleffing there. 
 
90 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 So fhall my cross of conquered fhame 
 
 My fainting brothers raise ; 
 So Thy triumphant mercy flame 
 
 Around my path of praise. 
 
 And earth, with all its pain and toil, 
 
 By love's pure presence bleft. 
 Shall wear the calm, celeftial smile 
 
 Of heaven's eternal reft. 
 
 IV, H. Hurlhurt. 
 
 HABITUAL DEVOTION. 
 
 WHILE Thee I seek, protecting Power, 
 Be my vain wifhes ftilled ; 
 And may this consecrated hour 
 With better hopes be filled. 
 
 Thy love the power of thought beftowed ; 
 
 To Thee my thoughts would soar ; 
 Thy mercy o'er my life has flowed ; 
 
 That mercy I adore. 
 
 In each event of life, how clear 
 
 Thy ruling hand I see ! 
 Each blefling to my soul more dear, 
 
 Because conferred by Thee. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 91 
 
 In every joy that crowns my days, 
 
 In every pain I bear, 
 My heart fhall find delight in praise, 
 
 Or seek relief in prayer. 
 
 When gladness wings my favored hour, 
 
 Thy love my thoughts fhall fill ; 
 Refigned, when ftorms of sorrow lower. 
 
 My soul fliall meet Thy will. 
 
 My lifted eye, without a tear. 
 
 The gathering ftorm (hall see •, 
 My fteadfaft heart fhall know no fear ; 
 
 That heart fhall reft on Thee. 
 
 Miss H. M. Williams. 1762- 1 827. 
 
 ON LEAVING HOME FOR A MILDER CLIMATE. 
 
 "My presence fhall go with thee, and I will give thee reft." — Exodus 
 xxxiii. 14. 
 
 THIS gracious promise. Lord, fulfil. 
 Now that I leave a home so dear ; 
 My soul's sweet home is present ftill, 
 If Thou art near. 
 
 Beneath thy wings if I remain. 
 
 My home! my hiding-place! my reft! 
 
92 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Sheltered, and safe, and free from pain, 
 My soul is bleft. 
 
 Thy presence fills my mind with peace, 
 Brightens the thoughts so dark erewhile. 
 
 Bids cares and sad forebodings cease. 
 Makes all things smile. 
 
 This ftriking of my pilgrim tent 
 
 No longer mournful will appear, 
 If Thy reviving presence lent 
 
 The traveller cheer. 
 
 The spacious earth is all thine own ; 
 
 What land soe'er my fteps invite. 
 That land thine eye will reft upon. 
 
 By day, by night. 
 
 Whether again my home I see, 
 
 Or yield on foreign ftiores my breath. 
 
 Take not thy presence, Lord, from me. 
 In life or death ! 
 
 In thee, my hiding-place divine. 
 
 Be reft throughout life's journeyings given: 
 Then sweeter, holier reft be mine. 
 
 With Thee in heaven ! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 93 
 
 PRAYER IN DESPONDENCY. 
 
 BOWED 'neath the load of human ill, 
 Our spirits droop and are dismayed ; 
 O Thou that saideft, "Peace, be ftill," 
 To the wild sea, and waft obeyed. 
 Speak comfortable words of peace 
 And bid the spirit's tumult cease ! 
 
 We afk not length of days, nor ease, 
 Nor gold ; but for Thy mercy's sake, 
 Give us Thy joy, surpafling these. 
 Which the world gives not, nor can take: 
 And count it not for sin that we 
 At times despond, or turn from Thee. 
 
 From Mary Howitfs Seven Temptations.'" 
 
 ABIDE IN ME, AND I IN YOU. 
 
 THAT myftic word of Thine, O sovereign Lord, 
 Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me ! 
 Weary with ftriving and with longing faint, 
 I breathe it back again in prayer to Thee. 
 
94 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Abide in me, I pray, and I in Thee ! 
 
 From this good hour, O leave me never more ! 
 Then fliall the discord cease, the wound be healed, 
 
 The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er. 
 
 Abide in me, — o'erfhadow by Thy love 
 
 Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin ; 
 
 Quench, ere it rise, each selfifh, low defne. 
 And keep my soul as Thine, calm and divine : 
 
 As some rare perfume in a vase of clay 
 Pervades it with a fragrance not its own, 
 
 So, when Thou dwelleft in a mortal soul. 
 
 All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown. 
 
 The soul alone, like a negle61:ed harp. 
 
 Grows out of tune, and needs that Hand divine. 
 
 Dwell Thou within it, tune and touch the chords. 
 Till every note and firing fhall answer Thine. 
 
 Abide in 7ne : there have been moments pure. 
 
 When I have seen Thy face and felt Thy power ; 
 
 Then evil loft its grasp, and paffion, hufhed. 
 Owned the divine enchantment of the hour. 
 
 These were but seasons beautiful and rare ; 
 
 Abide in me, and they fhall ever be : 
 I pray Thee now fulfil my earneft prayer. 
 
 Come and abide in me, and I in Thee. 
 
 Mrs. H. B. Stowe. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT. 
 
 IN the hour of my diftress, 
 When temptations me oppress, 
 And when I my fins confess, 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When I He within my bed. 
 Sick at heart and fick at head. 
 And with doubts disquieted. 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When the house doth figh and weep. 
 And the world is drowned in fleep. 
 Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When the paffing-bell doth toll. 
 And the furies in a (hoal 
 Come to fright a parting soul. 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When, God knows, I 'm tofTed about. 
 Either with despair or doubt. 
 Yet before the glass be out. 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
96 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 When the tapers now burn blue, 
 And the comforters are few, 
 And that number more than true, 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When the prieft his laft hath prayed. 
 And I nod to what is said, 
 'Cause my speech is now decayed. 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When the tempter me pursu'th 
 With the fins of all my youth. 
 And half damns me with untruth. 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When the flames and hellifh cries 
 Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes, 
 And all terrors me surprise. 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 When the judgment is revealed. 
 And that opened which was sealed. 
 When to Thee I have appealed, 
 
 Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 
 
 Robert Herrick. 1648. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 97 
 
 CONSECRATION. 
 
 FROM my lips in their defilement, 
 From my heart in its beguilement, 
 From my tongue, which speaks not fair. 
 From my soul, ftained everywhere, — 
 O my Jesus, take my prayer ! 
 Spurn me not, for all it says, — 
 Not for words and not for ways. 
 Not for fhameleflness endued ! 
 Make me brave to speak my mood, 
 
 0 my Jesus, as I would. 
 
 Or teach me (which I rather seek) 
 What to do and what to speak. 
 
 1 have finned more than fhe 
 
 Who, learning where to meet with Thee, 
 And bringing myrrh, the higheft priced. 
 Anointed bravely, from her knee 
 Thy bleffed feet accordingly. 
 
 My God, mv Lord, my Chrift, 
 As thou saideft not, " Depart," 
 To that suppliant from her heart. 
 Scorn me not, O Word, that art 
 The gentleft one of all words said ! 
 But give thy feet to me inftead, 
 
98 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 That tenderly I may them kiss, 
 
 And clasp them close, and never miss, 
 
 With over-dropping tears, as free 
 
 And precious as that myrrh could be, 
 
 T' anoint them bravely from my knee ! 
 
 Wafh me with thy tears ! draw nigh me, 
 
 That their salt may purify me ! 
 
 Thou remit my fins, who knoweft 
 
 All the finning, to the loweft, — 
 
 Knoweft all my wounds, and seeft 
 
 All the ftripes thyself decreeft ; 
 
 Yea, but knoweft all my faith, — 
 
 Seeft all my force to death, — 
 
 Heareft all my wailings low 
 
 That mine evil ftiould be so. 
 
 Nothing hidden but appears 
 In thy knowledge, O Divine, 
 O Creator, Saviour mine ! 
 
 Not a drop of falling tears. 
 Not a breath of inward moan. 
 Not a heart-beat which is gone. 
 
 From the Greek of St. yoannes Damascenus., 
 tranjlated by E. B. Browning. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 JESUS, caft a look on me ; 
 Give me sweet fimplicity, 
 Make me poor and keep me low, 
 Seeking only Thee to know. 
 
 Weaned from my lordly self. 
 
 Weaned from the miser's pelf, 
 
 Weaned from the scorner's ways. 
 
 Weaned from the luft of praise : 
 
 All that feeds my busy pride. 
 Call: it evermore afide ; 
 Bid my will to Thine submit ; 
 Lay me humbly at Thy feet. 
 
 Make me like a little child, 
 Of my ftrength and wisdom spoiled, 
 Seeing only in Thy light. 
 Walking only in Thy might, 
 
 Leaning on Thy loving breaft, 
 Where a weary soul may reft ; 
 P'eeling well the peace of God 
 Flowing from Thy gracious Blood ! 
 
100 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 In this pofture let me live, 
 And hosannas daily give ; 
 In this temper let me die. 
 And hosannas ever cry ! 
 
 yohn Ber ridge. 1785. 
 
 RACIOUS Spirit, dwell with me; 
 
 And with words that help and heal 
 Would Thy life in mine reveal. 
 And with anions bold and meek 
 Would for Chrift mv Saviour speak. 
 
 Truthful Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I mvself would truthful be. 
 And with wisdom kind and clear 
 Let Thv life in mine appear. 
 And with actions brotherly 
 Speak mv Lord's fmcerity. 
 
 Tender Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I myself would tender be. 
 Shut my heart up like a flower 
 At temptation's darksome hour, 
 Open it when (liines the sun. 
 And His love by fragrance own. 
 
 would gracious be. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 lOI 
 
 Silent Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 
 I myself would quiet be, — 
 
 Quiet as the growing blade 
 
 Which through earth its way has made, 
 
 Silently, like morning light. 
 
 Putting mifts and chills to flight. 
 
 Mighty Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 I myself would mighty be, — 
 Mighty so as to prevail 
 Where unaided man muft fail. 
 Ever by a mighty hope 
 Preffing on and bearing up. 
 
 Holy Spirit, dwell with me ; 
 
 I myself would holy be ; 
 
 Separate from fin, I would 
 
 Choose and cherifh all things good. 
 
 And whatever I can be 
 
 Give to Him who gave me Thee ! 
 
 T. T. Lynch. 1855. 
 
 PRAY FOR ME! 
 
 I BEG of you, I beg of you, my brothers. 
 For my need is very sore. 
 Not for gold and not for filver do I afk you. 
 But for something even more : 
 
102 
 
 Prayer, 
 
 From the depths of your hearts pity let it be, — 
 Prav for me ! 
 
 I beo; of you whose robes of radiant whiteness 
 Haye been kept without a ftain ; 
 
 Of you who, ftung to death by serpent pleasure, 
 Found the healing angel pain : 
 
 Whether holy or forgiyen you may be, — 
 Pray for me ! 
 
 I beg of you calm souls whose wondering pity 
 Looks at paths you neyer trod : 
 
 I beg of you who suffer, — for all sorrow 
 Aiufl: be yery near to God, — 
 
 And the need is even greater than you see, — 
 Pray for me ! 
 
 I beg of you, O children, for He loyes you, 
 And He loyes your prayers the beft : 
 
 Fold your little hands together, and afk Jesus 
 That the weary may haye reft. 
 
 That a bird caught in a net may be set free, — 
 Pray for me ! 
 
 I beg of you who ftand before the altar. 
 
 Whose anointed hands upraise 
 All the fin and all the sorrow of the ages. 
 
 All the loye and all the praise. 
 And the glory which was always and fhall be, — 
 Pray for me ! 
 
Prayer, 
 
 I beg of you, — of you who through life's battle 
 
 Our dear Lord has set apart, 
 That, while we who love the peril are made captives, 
 
 Still the Church may have its heart 
 Which is fettered that our souls may be set free, — 
 Pray for me ! 
 
 I beg of you, I beg of you, my brothers. 
 
 For an alms this very day, 
 I am ftanding on your doorftep as a beggar 
 
 Who will not be turned away, 
 And the charity you give my soul fhall be, — 
 Pray for me ! 
 
 Miss A. A. Proper. 
 
 ONE prayer I have, — all prayers in one, — 
 When I am wholly thine ; 
 Thy will, my God, thy will be done, 
 And let that will be mine. 
 
 All-wise, almighty, and all-good. 
 
 In Thee I firmly truft ; 
 Thy ways, unknown or underftood. 
 
 Are merciful and juft. 
 
 May I remember that to Thee 
 Whate'er I have I owe ; 
 
104 
 
 Prayer, 
 
 And back, in gratitude, from me 
 AJav all thv bounties flow. 
 
 Thy gifts are onlv then enjoyed, 
 
 When used as talents lent ; 
 Those talents onlv well employed. 
 
 When in th\- service spent. 
 
 And though thv wisdom takes away, 
 
 Shall I arraign th\- will : 
 No ; let me bless thy name, and say, 
 
 " The Lord is gracious llill." 
 
 A pilgrim through the earth I roam. 
 
 Of nothing long polleiled, 
 And all mull fail when I go home, 
 
 For this is not my rell. 
 
 "J. Montgo?ntr\'. 1803- 
 
 THY WILL BE DONE. 
 
 THY will be done ' I will not fear 
 The fate pro\ ided by thy lo\ e ; 
 Though clouds and darkness Ihroud me here, 
 I know that all is bright above. 
 
Prayer. 105 
 
 The ftars of heaven are fhining on, 
 
 Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears ; 
 The hopes of earth indeed are gone, 
 
 But are not ours th' immortal years ? 
 
 Father ! forgive the heart that cHngs 
 Thus trembHng to the things of time ; 
 
 And bid my soul, on angel wings. 
 Ascend into a purer clim.e. 
 
 There fhall no doubts difturb its truft, 
 
 No sorrows dim celeftial love ; 
 But these affli£lions of the duft, 
 
 Like (hadows of the night, remove. 
 
 E'en now, above, there 's radiant day. 
 While clouds and darkness brood below ; 
 
 Then, Father, joyful on my way 
 To drink the bitter cup I go. 
 
 Jane Roscoe. 1800. 
 
 BEGIN WITH GOD. 
 
 BEGIN the day with God! 
 He is thy sun and day ; 
 His is the radiance of thy dawn. 
 To Him address thy lay. 
 
io6 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Sino; a new sons; at morn ' 
 
 Join the glad woods and hills ; 
 
 Join the frefli winds and seas and plains, 
 Join the bright flowers and rills. 
 
 Sing thy firft song to God ! 
 
 Not to thv fellow-man ; 
 Not to the creatures of his hand, 
 
 But to the Glorious One. 
 
 Awake, cold lips, and fing ! 
 
 Arise, dull knees, and pray ; 
 Lift up, O man, thv heart and eves ; 
 
 Brufh flothfulness away. 
 
 Look up, bevond these clouds ! 
 
 Thither thv pathway lies ; 
 Mount up, awav, and linger not, 
 
 Thv goal is vonder (kies. 
 
 Caft every weight afide ! 
 
 Do battle with each fin ; 
 Fight with the faithless world without. 
 
 The faithless heart within. 
 
 Take thv flrll: meal with God ! 
 
 He is thv heavenly food ; 
 Feed luith and oyi Him ; he with thee 
 
 Will feaft in brotherhood. 
 
Prayer. 107 
 
 Take thy firft walk with God ! 
 
 Let him go forth with thee ; 
 By ftream or sea or mountain-path, 
 
 Seek ftill his company. 
 
 Thy firft transa6tion be 
 
 With God himself above ; 
 So fhall thy bufiness prosper well, 
 
 And all the day be love. 
 
 //. Bonar. 1856. 
 
 I AND MY HOUSE WILL SERVE THE LORD. 
 
 I AND my house are ready. Lord, 
 With hearts that beat in sweet accord, 
 To serve Thee and obey Thee ; 
 Be in the midft of us, we pray. 
 To guide and bless us, that we may 
 A willing service pay Thee : 
 Of us all. 
 Great and small. 
 Make a pious congregation, 
 Pure in life and conversation. 
 
 Let thy good Spirit by the word 
 Work mightily in us, O Lord, 
 Our souls and bodies filling ! 
 
lo8 Prayer. 
 
 O let the sun of grace fhine bright, 
 That there may be abundant light 
 In us and in our dwelling : 
 
 On our way, 
 
 Night and day, 
 
 With the heavenly manna feed us. 
 To the heavenly Canaan lead us. 
 
 Send peace and bleffing from above. 
 
 Unite us all in faith and love 
 Who in this house are living; 
 
 Let charity our hearts prepare 
 
 To suffer long and all things bear, 
 Meek, gentle, and forgiving : 
 Nor in aught 
 Chrift hath taught 
 Let us fail to one another. 
 But each love and help his brother. 
 
 Lord, let our house be built upon 
 Thy faithfulness and grace alone ; 
 
 And when the day is clofmg. 
 And night her gloomy fhadow flings. 
 Let us lie down beneath Thy wings. 
 With childlike trull repofing ; 
 E'en with smart 
 In the heart. 
 
 Cheerful, happy, and confiding. 
 Patiently in Thee abiding. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 109 
 
 If Thou fhouldft bless our home with wealth, 
 Let not the world creep in by ftealth, 
 
 And take away the blelling ; 
 For if our hearts fhould empty be 
 Of meekness and humility, 
 Although all else poffeffing. 
 We fhould miss 
 That true bliss, 
 
 Which not all the world's vaft treasure 
 Can supply in smalleft measure. 
 
 a J. p. Spitta. 
 Tranjlated by R. MaJJte. 1854. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 CHRIST, whose glory fills the fkies, 
 Chrift, the true, the only Light, 
 Sun of Righteousness, arise. 
 
 Triumph o'er the (hades of night ! 
 Day-spring from on high, be near ! 
 Day-ftar, in my heart appear ! 
 
 Dark and cheerless is the morn 
 
 Unaccompanied by Thee ; 
 Joyless is the day's return. 
 
 Till thy mercy's beams I see ; 
 
1 10 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Till thev inward light impart, 
 Glad mv eves, and warm mv heart. 
 
 Vilit then this soul of mine, 
 
 Pierce the gloom of fin and grief; 
 Fill me, Radiancy Divine, 
 
 Scatter all mv unbelief! 
 More and more Thvself display. 
 
 Shining to the perfecl: dav ! 
 
 Charles J I ejJey. i 740. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 OTLMELY happv, timelv wise, 
 Hearts that with rifmg morn arise ! 
 Eyes that the beam celeltial view, 
 Which evermore makes all things new ! 
 
 New everv morning is the lo\-e 
 Our wakening and uprifing pro\e. 
 Through fleep and darkness safelv brought, 
 Rellored to life, and power, and thought. 
 
 New mercies, each returning dav. 
 
 Hover around us while we prav ; 
 
 New perils pall, new fins forgi\-en. 
 
 New thoughts of God, new hopes of Heaven. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 1 1 1 
 
 If, on our daily course, our mind 
 Be set to hallow all we find. 
 New treasures ftill, of countless price, 
 God will provide for sacrifice. 
 
 Old friends, old scenes, will lovelier be, 
 As more of Heaven in each we see ; 
 Some softening gleam of love and prayer 
 Shall dawn on every cross and care. 
 
 As for some dear familiar strain 
 Untired we alk, and afk again. 
 Ever, in its melodious ftore. 
 Finding a spell unheard before, — 
 
 Such is the bliss of souls serene, 
 
 When they have sworn, and fteadfaft mean, 
 
 Counting the coft, in all t' espy 
 
 Their God, in all themselves deny. 
 
 O could we learn that sacrifice. 
 What lights would all around us rise ! 
 How would our hearts with wisdom talk 
 Along life's dulleft, drearieft walk! 
 
 We need not bid, for cloiftered cell. 
 Our neighbor and our work farewell. 
 Nor ftrive to wind ourselves too high 
 For finful man beneath the fky. 
 
112 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 The trivial round, the common tal"k. 
 Will furnifh all we ought to afk ; 
 Room to denv ourselves ; a road 
 To bring us, daily, nearer God. 
 
 Seek we no more : content with these. 
 Let present rapture, comfort, ease. 
 As Heaven shall bid them, come and oq ; 
 The secret this of reft below. 
 
 Only, O Lord, in Thv dear love 
 Fit us for perfed: reft above ; 
 And help us, this and everv dav. 
 To live more nearlv as we prav ! 
 
 Joim Keble. 1827. 
 
 WHEN WE FIRST AWAKE. 
 
 DEAR God, that watch doth keep 
 Round all that honor Thee, 
 Vouchsafing Thv beloved fleep 
 When reft fhall needful be. 
 My soul returns Thee praise. 
 
 That thus refreflied I am. 
 And that mv tongue a \oice can raise. 
 To praise Thee for the same. 
 
Prayer, 
 
 As now my soul doth {hake 
 
 Dull fleep out of her eyes, 
 So let Thy Spirit me awake, 
 
 That I from fin may rise. 
 The night is paft away^ 
 
 Which filled us full of fears \ 
 And we enjoy the glorious day, 
 
 Wherein Thy grace appears. 
 
 O, let me, therefore, fhun 
 
 All errors of the night ; 
 Thy righteousness let me put on. 
 
 And walk as in the light : 
 And guard me from his power, 
 
 Since I on Thee rely, 
 Who walks in darkness to devour 
 
 When our long deep draws nigh. 
 
 George Wither. 1 64 1. 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 THE purple morning gilds the eaftern fkies. 
 And what the night had hidden from our eyes 
 Now stands revealed to our admiring gaze ; 
 Mountain and valley, wood and fruitful plain. 
 Which in their mifty bed alleep had lain, 
 
 Shine forth and glitter in the sun's bright rays. 
 8 
 
114 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Shine in my soul, and light and joy impart, 
 
 0 blefled Jesus, Sun of my dark heart. 
 
 O cause therein the light of truth to fhine ; 
 Show me each crooked winding of my heart, 
 Change and renew it so in every part. 
 
 That my whole nature be transformed to Thine. 
 
 Lord, in Thy light O let me walk this day. 
 
 By Thy love prompted, ail, and speak, and pray. 
 
 As a new creature it becomes to do. 
 Whose aim it is, in all his words and ways. 
 To set forth duly his Creator's praise. 
 
 And new in heart, in life be also new. 
 
 1 pray not, " Take my troubles all away " ; 
 It is for love to bear them that I pray. 
 
 And firm belief that all is for my good ; 
 That every trouble muft be kindly meant. 
 Since from the hands of Him it has been sent 
 
 Who is my loving Father and my God. 
 
 I pray not that my days may smoothly run ; 
 Ah no ! I pray, Thy will alone be done ! 
 
 Yet give a childlike trufting heart to me ; 
 Should the earth seek to draw my spirit down, 
 
 0 let my heart continue ftill Thine own. 
 
 And draw me upward from the earth to Thee. 
 
 1 pray not. Lord, that Thou wilt quickly end 
 The griefs and troubles Thou art pleased to send ; 
 
Prayer, 1 1 5 
 
 Be Thou my peace in every trying hour. 
 I afk not Heaven at once to enter in, 
 But ere I die, that I may die to fin : 
 
 Be Thou its death j deftroy its guilt and power. 
 
 Thou Sun, by whom my new life firft was lighted, 
 O let me not again become benighted, 
 
 But be my light when fhades around me spread ; 
 With the bright splendor of Thy heavenly rays 
 Illuminate the evening of my days. 
 
 And fhed a halo round my dying head. 
 
 C. J. P. Spitta. 
 Tranjlated by R. Majte. 1854. 
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 THE weary day at length is paft. 
 Pale fhadows beckon it to reft ; 
 The flanting sunbeams fading caft 
 
 Their dim reflection through the weft. 
 
 The song of birds, the hum of bees. 
 The droning inseft's fliining wing, 
 
 Are filent all, the evening breeze 
 Its plaintive monody doth fing. 
 
ii6 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Now, holv bells, vour chime begin 
 f^rom towers that bathe in sunset air ! 
 
 Lift these poor spirits from the fin 
 That chains with fetters gross or fair. 
 
 Speak of the coming fliadowed night, 
 That preludes dav^ no more to cease ; 
 
 Speak of the Love that gloom to light. 
 And guide us to the perfect Peace ! 
 
 C. M. P. 
 
 VESPERS. 
 
 O SHADOW in a sultry land ! 
 We gather to thv breaft, 
 Whose love, unfolding like the night, 
 
 Brings quietude and reil. 
 Glimpse of the fairer life to be. 
 In foretafte here poffefled ! 
 
 From aimless wanderings we come, 
 
 From drifting to and fro ; 
 The wave of being mingles deep. 
 
 Amid its ebb and flow. 
 The grander sweep of tides serene 
 
 Our spirits yearn to know ! 
 
Prayer. 
 
 That which the garifli day had lort 
 
 The twihght vigil brings, 
 While softlier the vesper bell 
 
 Its silver cadence rings, — 
 The sense of an immortal truft, 
 
 The brufh of angel wings ! 
 
 Drop down behind the solemn hills, 
 
 O Day, with golden fkies ! 
 Serene above its fading glow, 
 
 Night, ftarry-crowned arise ! 
 So beautiful may Heaven be. 
 
 When Life's laft sunbeam dies ! 
 
 C. M. P. 
 
 I LOVE to fteal awhile away 
 From every cumbering care. 
 And spend the hours of setting day 
 In humble, grateful prayer. 
 
 I love in solitude to fhed 
 
 The penitential tear, 
 And all his promises to plead 
 
 Where none but God can hear. 
 
 I love to think on mercies paft, 
 And future good implore. 
 
ii8 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 And all my cares and sorrows caft 
 On Him whom I adore. 
 
 I love by faith to take a view 
 
 Of brighter scenes in heaven ; 
 The prospe6t doth my ftrength renew, 
 
 While here by tempefts driven. 
 
 Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er. 
 
 May its departing ray 
 Be calm as this impreflive hour, 
 
 And lead to endless day. 
 
 Mrs. Broivn. 
 
 EVENING HYMN. 
 
 THE (hadows of the evening hours 
 Fall from the darkening fky ; 
 Upon the fragrance of the flowers 
 
 The dews of evening lie : 
 Before thy throne, O Lord of Heaven, 
 
 We kneel at close of day ; 
 Look on thy children from on high. 
 And hear us while we pray. 
 
 The sorrows of thy servants, Lord, 
 O do not thou despise; 
 
Prayer. 
 
 119 
 
 But let the incense of our prayers 
 
 Before thy mercy rise j 
 The brightness of the coming night 
 
 Upon the darkness rolls : 
 With hopes of future glory chase 
 
 The (hadovvs on our souls. 
 
 slowly the rays of daylight fade ; 
 
 So fade within our heart 
 The hopes in earthly love and joy, 
 
 That one by one depart : 
 Slowly the bright ftars, one by one, 
 
 Within the heavens (hine ; — 
 Give us, O Lord, frefli hopes in Heaven, 
 
 And truft in things divine. 
 
 Let peace, O Lord, thy peace, O God, 
 
 Upon our souls descend : 
 From midnight fears and perils. Thou 
 
 Our trembling hearts defend ; 
 Give us a respite from our toil, 
 
 Calm and subdue our woes ; 
 Through the long day we suffer, Lord, 
 
 O give us now repose ! 
 
 Miss A. A, Proaer. 
 
I20 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 EVENING HYMN. 
 
 " Let my prayer be set before thee as incense ; and the lifting up of my hands 
 as the evening sacrifice." — Psalm cxli. 2. 
 
 SWEET Saviour ! bless us ere we go ; 
 Thy word into our minds inftil, 
 And make our lukewarm hearts to glow 
 
 With lowly love and fervent will ; 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
 The day is done, its hours are run, 
 And Thou haft taken count of all, — 
 
 The scanty triumphs grace hath won. 
 The broken vow, the frequent fall ; 
 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
 Grant us, dear Lord, from evil ways 
 
 True absolution and release. 
 And bless us more than in paft days. 
 
 With purity and inward peace ; 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 121 
 
 Do more than pardon, — give us joy, 
 
 Sweet fear, and sober liberty. 
 And simple hearts without alloy. 
 
 That only long to be like Thee ; 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
 Labor is sweet, for Thou haft toiled. 
 And care is light, for Thou haft cared : 
 
 Ah ! never let our work be soiled 
 With ftrife, or bv deceit ensnared ; 
 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
 For those we love, — the poor, the sad. 
 
 The finful, — unto Thee we call ; 
 Oh ! let thy mercy make us glad ! 
 
 Thou art our Jesus and our all ; 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
 Sweet Saviour ! bless us ; night is come ; 
 
 Through all its watches near us be ; 
 Good angels watch about our home. 
 
 And we are one day nearer Thee. 
 Through life's long day and death's dark night, 
 O gentle Jesus, be our light. 
 
 Frederick Faber. 
 
122 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 ALL'S WELL. 
 
 THE day is ended. Ere I fink to fleep, 
 IVly wearv spirit seeks repose in Thine ; 
 Father ! forgive my trespafles, and keep 
 This Httle Hfe of mine. 
 
 With lo\ ing kindness curtain Thou my bed, 
 And cool in relt my burning pilgrim feet; 
 Thy pardon be the pillow for my head, — 
 So fliall my fleep be sweet. 
 
 At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and Thee, 
 
 No fears my soul's unwavering faith can fliake ; 
 All 's well, whichever fide the grave for me 
 The morning light may break ! 
 
 H. McEiven Kimball. 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 HEAR my prayer, O Heavenly Father, 
 Ere I lay me down to fleep : 
 Bid Thy angels pure and holy 
 Round my bed their vigil keep. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 123 
 
 Great my Tins are, but Thy mercy 
 
 Far outweighs them every one ; 
 Down before Thy cross I caft them, 
 
 Trufting in Thy help alone. 
 
 Keep me through this night of peril. 
 
 Underneath its boundless fhade ; 
 Take me to Thy reft, I pray Thee, 
 
 When my pilgrimage is made ! 
 
 None fhall measure out Thy patience 
 
 By the span of human thought ; 
 None fhall bound the tender mercies 
 
 Which Thy holy Son hath wrought. 
 
 Pardon all my paft transgreflions ; 
 
 Give me ftrength for days to come ; 
 Guide and guard me with Thy bleiling 
 
 Till Thine angels bid me home ! 
 
 Thomas Park. 1797. 
 
 AN EVENING SONG. 
 
 LORD, a happy child of Thine, 
 Patient in the love of Thee, 
 In the light, the life divine. 
 Lives and walks at liberty. 
 
124 
 
 Prciyn-. 
 
 
 Leaning on Thv tender care 
 
 Thou hall led ni\- soul ari^xht ; 
 Fer\ ent was mv morning-praver, 
 Jo\hil is mv song to-night. 
 
 
 O mv Sa\ iour, Guardian true. 
 All m\- life is Thine to keep ; 
 
 At Th\- feet m\- work I do. 
 In Th\- arms I fall alleep. 
 
 J. L. If ari)ig. 
 
 
 WHEN WE CANNOT SLEEP. 
 
 
 "\ X THAT ails mv heart, that in m\ breall 
 
 V V It thus unquiet lies ; 
 And that it now of needful rell 
 
 Deprives m\ tired eves ? 
 Let not \ain hopes, griefs, doubts or fears, 
 
 Diilemper so mv mind j 
 But call on God thv thoughtful cares, 
 
 And comfort thou llialt find. 
 
 
 \i\ vain that soul attempteth aught. 
 And spends her thoughts in \ain. 
 
 Who b\' or in herselt hath sou^^ht 
 Defired peace to gain. 
 
Prayer, 
 
 125 
 
 In vain as rifing in the morn 
 
 Before the day appear ; 
 In vain to bed we late return, 
 
 And He unquiet there. 
 
 For when of reft our fm deprives, 
 
 When cares do waking keep ; 
 'T is God, and He alone, that gives 
 
 To His beloved fleep. 
 On Thee, O Lord ! on Thee therefore, 
 
 My mufings now I place : 
 Thy free remiflion I implore. 
 
 And Thy refrefhing grace. 
 
 Forgive Thou me, that when my mind 
 
 Oppressed begun to be, 
 I sought elsewhere my peace to find. 
 
 Before I came to Thee, 
 And, gracious God ! vouchsafe to grant. 
 
 Unworthy though I am. 
 The needful reft which now I want. 
 
 That I may praise Thy name. 
 
 George Wither, 1 64 1. 
 
126 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 AWAKE, my soul, awake to prayer ; 
 Thy vigil of the night prepare : 
 Now all around is dark and ftill, 
 Angels defending us from ill. 
 
 The time to sacred thought is dear, 
 When Thou alone, good Lord, art near ; 
 Huftied is the world's external din, 
 That we may hear Thy voice within. 
 
 It seems to plead with gentle breath ; 
 Sad child of frailty, heir of death. 
 Its reft thy wearied body knows ; 
 O, let thy soul on me repose ! 
 
 I came to suffer in thy ftead ; 
 I had not where to lay my head : 
 Think on the love that could provide 
 Bleffings for man, to me denied ! 
 
 Thus filent hours of darkness prove 
 Remembrancers of Jesus' love ; 
 While conftancy in prayer we learn 
 From each succeeding night's return. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 127 
 
 Day without night the angels fing, 
 Nor reft upon the drooping wing ; 
 Teaching our souls betimes to ascend, 
 Where hallelujahs never end. 
 
 David awaked his harp and voice, 
 And all within him, to rejoice, 
 God's love to praise at morning light. 
 And tell of all His truth at night. 
 
 Jacob in prayer no6turnal ftrove ; 
 
 No ftern repulse his prayer could move; 
 
 In vain the angel-man did say, 
 
 " Dismiss me, for 't is break of day ! " 
 
 See how, in galling fetters laid. 
 At midnight Paul and Silas prayed ; 
 Their gory wounds ftill smarting sore, 
 And cold the prison's rugged floor. 
 
 Thev sang the praises of the Lord ; 
 So loud they sang, the prisoners heard : 
 And yet they thought that death was nigh ; 
 And clouds obscured their morning fky. 
 
 How ftiall I then Thy praise decline. 
 When health and friends and home are mine ? 
 My dawn of day is clear and calm ; 
 No foes oppress, no fears alarm. 
 
128 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 Are these Thy mercies, Lord, to me ? 
 O, let me then Thy servant be ! 
 Submitting to Thy juft control. 
 And loving Thee with all my soul. 
 
 So fliall I find Thee ftrong to save. 
 When my laft bed fhall be the grave ; 
 The grave fhall own my Saviour's might. 
 And darkness vanifh at Thy fight ! 
 
 Only my soul muft now awake 
 From fleep of fin for Thy dear sake ! 
 And then my body fhall arise 
 From fleep of death to yonder fkies. 
 
 'T is there I hope Thy face to see. 
 The crown of all felicity ; 
 'T is there I hope that refl to gain, 
 Which here I seek, but seek in vain. 
 
 As endless ages roll along. 
 Endless fhall be my grateful song ; 
 And heaven itself fhall pass away. 
 Before I cease my vows to pay. 
 
 Glory to God, who Israel keeps. 
 Who never flumbers, never fleeps ! 
 Almighty Power no weakness knows ; 
 Unwearied Love asks no repose. 
 
Prayer. 
 
 129 
 
 And now, my midnight mufings o'er, 
 Thy wonted mercies. Lord, reftore : 
 Let fleep again my eyelids fill. 
 And angels guard my soul from ill. 
 
 James Ford, 1856. 
 
 SONGS IN THE NIGHT. 
 
 "Tp WAS in the watches of the night 
 J- I thought upon Thy power ; 
 
 I kept Thy lovely face in fight, 
 Amid the darkeft hour. 
 
 While I lay refl:ing on my bed. 
 
 My soul arose on high ; 
 My God, my life, my hope, I said. 
 
 Bring thy salvation nigh. 
 
 I ftrive to mount thy holy hill ; 
 
 I walk the heavenly road ; 
 Thy glories all my spirit fill. 
 
 While I commune with God. 
 
 Thy mercy ftretches o'er my head 
 
 The (hadow of thy wing ; 
 My heart rejoices in thine aid. 
 
 And I thy praises fing. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 
 
130 
 
 Prayer. 
 
 NIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 IN the ftill filence of the voiceless night, 
 When, chased by airy dreams, the flumbers flee, 
 Whom in the darkness doth my spirit seek, 
 
 O God, but Thee ? 
 
 And if there be a weight upon my breast, 
 Some vague impreflion of the day foregone. 
 Scarce knowing what it is, I fly to Thee, 
 
 And lay it down. 
 
 Or if it be the heaviness that comes 
 
 In token of anticipated ill. 
 
 My bosom takes no heed of what it is. 
 
 Since 't is Thy will. 
 
 For, oh ! in spite of paft and present care. 
 Or anything befide, how joyfully 
 Passes that almoft solitary hour. 
 
 My God, with Thee! 
 
 More tranquil than the ftillness of the night, 
 More peaceful than the filence of that hour. 
 More blefl: than anything, my spirit lies 
 
 Beneath Thy power. 
 
Prayer. 1 3 1 
 
 For what is there on earth that I defire, 
 Of all that it can give or take from me, 
 Or whom in heaven doth my spirit seek, 
 
 O God, but Thee? 
 
 STAR of morn and even. 
 Sun of Heaven's heaven. 
 Saviour high and dear. 
 Toward us turn thine ear ; 
 Through whate'er may come, 
 Thou canft lead us home. 
 
 Though the gloom be grievous, 
 Those we leant on leave us. 
 Though the coward heart 
 Quit its proper part. 
 Though the Tempter come, 
 Thou wilt lead us home. 
 
 Saviour pure and holy. 
 Lover of the lowly. 
 Sign us with thy fign. 
 Take our hands in thine. 
 Take our hands and come. 
 Lead thy children home ! 
 
132 Prayer, 
 
 Star of morn and even 
 
 Shine on us from Heaven, 
 From thy glory-throne 
 Hear thy very own ! 
 Lord and Saviour, come. 
 Lead us to our home ! 
 
 F. T. Palgrave. 1862. 
 
 AUTHOR of good, to thee we turn : 
 Thine ever wakeful eye 
 Alone can all our wants discern, 
 Thy hand alone supply. 
 
 O, let thy love within us dwell. 
 
 Thy fear our footfteps guide ; 
 That love fhall vainer loves expel, 
 
 That fear all fears befide. 
 
 And, O, by error's force subdued, 
 
 Since oft, with ftubborn will. 
 We blindly fhun the latent good. 
 
 And grasp the specious ill, — 
 
 Not what we wifh, but what we want. 
 
 Let mercy ftill supply : 
 The good we alk not. Father, grant ; 
 
 The ill we afk, deny. 
 
 Aderrick. 
 
PRAISE. 
 
 "All things are yours, .... things present." — i Cor. iii. 21, 22. 
 
 WHILE toil and warfare urge us on our way, 
 And heart is answering heart in fighs of pain 
 Have we no words of ftrengthening joy to say, — 
 No songs for those who suffer but to reign ^ 
 
 O for the faithful mind, the fteadfaft eye. 
 To keep our Leader's glory full in fight, 
 
 And make our converse, even while we die. 
 An interchange of triumph and delight ! 
 
 Behold, the paths of life are ours, — we see 
 Our bleft inheritance where'er we tread ; 
 
 Sorrow and danger our security. 
 
 And disappointment lifting up our head. 
 
 Kings unto God, we may not doubt our power. 
 
 We may not languifli when He says, "Be ftrong ! ' 
 
 We muft move on through every adverse hour. 
 And take pofTeflion as we pass along. 
 
'34 
 
 Praise. 
 
 Yes, all is for us ; nothing fhall withftand 
 Our faithful, valiant, persevering claim \ — 
 
 The rod of God's Anointed in our hand. 
 And our alTurance His unchanging name. 
 
 We need no hafte where He has said, " Be ftill," — 
 No peace where He has charged us to contend ; 
 
 Only the fearless love to do His will. 
 
 And to (how forth His honor to the end. 
 
 O ye that faint and die, arise and live ! 
 
 Sing, ye that all things have a charge to bless ! 
 If He is faithful who hath sworn to give, 
 
 Then be ye also faithful, and pofless. 
 
 Take thy whole portion with thy Mafter's mind, — 
 Toil, hindrance, hardness, with His virtue take, — 
 
 And think how fliort a time thy heart may find 
 To labor or to suffer for His sake. 
 
 Count all the pains that speed thee to thy reft 
 Among the riches of thy purchased right ; 
 
 Yea, bind them in His name upon thy breast, 
 As jewels for the Bride, the Lamb's delight. 
 
 And love fhall teach us, while on Him we lean, 
 That, in the certainty of coming bliss. 
 
 We may be yearning for a world unseen, 
 Yet wear our beautiful array in this. 
 
Praise. 
 
 
 Ours be a loyal love for service tried, 
 
 
 To (how by deeds and words, and looks 
 
 that cheer. 
 
 How He can bless the scene in which He 
 
 died. 
 
 And fill His house with glory even here. 
 
 
 Miss J, L, 
 
 W aring. 
 
 TREASURES. 
 
 
 T ET me count my treasures, 
 i — ^ All my soul holds dear, 
 
 
 
 Given me by dark spirits 
 
 
 Whom I used to fear. 
 
 
 Through long days of anguifh. 
 And sad nights, did Pain 
 
 
 Forge my fliield. Endurance, 
 
 
 Bright and free from ftain ! 
 
 
 Doubt, in mifty caverns. 
 
 
 'Mid dark horrors sought, 
 
 
 Till my peerless jewel. 
 Faith, to me fhe brought. 
 
 
 Sorrow, that I wearied 
 
 
 Should remain so long. 
 
 
 Wreathed my ftarry glory. 
 The bright Crown of Song. 
 
 
1 36 Praise. 
 
 Strife, that racked my spirit 
 
 Without hope or reft, 
 Left the blooming flower. 
 
 Patience, on my breaft. 
 
 Suffering, that I dreaded, 
 
 Ignorant of her charms. 
 Laid the fair child. Pity, 
 
 Smiling, in my arms. 
 
 So I count my treasures. 
 Stored in days long paft, — 
 
 And I thank the givers. 
 Whom I know at laft ! 
 
 J. Procter. 
 
 A THANKSGIVING FOR HIS HOUSE. 
 
 LORD, Thou haft given me a cell. 
 Wherein to dwell ; 
 A little house, whose humble roof 
 
 Is weather proof ; 
 Under the spars of which I lie 
 
 Both soft and dry. 
 Where Thou, my chamber for to ward. 
 Haft set a guard 
 
Praise. 
 
 Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep 
 
 Me while I fleep. 
 Low is my porch, as is my fate. 
 
 Both void of ftate ; 
 And yet the threfhold of my door 
 
 Is worn by the poor, 
 Who hither come, and freely get 
 
 Good words and meat. 
 Like as my parlor, so my hall, 
 
 And kitchen small ; 
 A little buttery, and therein 
 
 A little bin. 
 Which keeps my little loaf of bread 
 
 Unchipt, unflead. 
 Some brittle sticks of thorn or brier 
 
 Make me a fire. 
 Close by whose living coal I fit, 
 
 And glow like it. 
 Lord, I confess too, when I dine, 
 
 The pulse is Thine, 
 And all those other bits that be 
 
 There placed by Thee. 
 The worts, the purllain, and the mess 
 
 Of water-cress. 
 Which of Thy kindness Thou haft sent : 
 
 And my content 
 Makes those and my beloved beet 
 
 To be more sweet. 
 'T is Thou that crown'ft my glittering hearth 
 
 With guiltless mirth. 
 
138 Praise. 
 
 And giv'ft me waflail-bowls to drink, 
 
 Spiced to the brink. 
 Lord, 't is Thy plenty-dropping hand 
 
 That sows my land : 
 All this, and better, doft Thou send 
 
 Me for this end : 
 That I fhould render for my part 
 
 A thankful heart, 
 Which, fired with incense, I refign 
 
 As wholly Thine : 
 But the acceptance, — that muft be, 
 
 O Lord, by Thee. 
 
 Robert Herrick. 1596. 
 
 "AS STRANGERS AND PILGRIMS." 
 
 AS ftrangers, — glad for this good inn 
 Where nobler wayfarers have been ; 
 Yet afking but a little reft : 
 Earth may not keep her spirit-gueft. 
 
 As those whom no entangling bond 
 Muft draw from life and love beyond, 
 Strangers to all that lures aftray 
 From one plain path, the homeward way. 
 
Praise. 
 
 How muft the pilgrim's load be borne ? 
 With ftaggering limbs and look forlorn ? 
 His Guide chose all that load within ; 
 There 's need of everything, but fin. 
 
 So trufting Him whose love he knows. 
 Singing along the road he goes ; 
 And nightly of his burden makes 
 A pillow till the morning breaks. 
 
 How thinks the pilgrim of his way 
 As wanderers homefick and aftray? 
 The ftarlight and the dew he sees ; 
 He feels the bleffing of the breeze. 
 
 The valley-fliades, how cool and ftill ! 
 What splendor from the beetling hill! 
 He longs to go, he loves to flay. 
 For God is both his Home and Way. 
 
 Strangers to fin ! beloved of God ! 
 Ye track with heaven-light earth's mean sod : 
 For, pilgrims dear, He walks with you, 
 A Guide — but once a Pilgrim too. 
 
 Lucy Larcom. 
 
Praise. 
 
 OUR TITLES. 
 
 ARE we not Nobles ? We who trace 
 Our pedigree so high 
 That God for us and for our race 
 
 Created earth and fky, 
 And Hght and air and time and space, 
 To serve us and then die. 
 
 Are we not Princes ? we who ftand 
 
 As heirs befide the throne ; 
 We who can call the promised land 
 
 Our heritage, our own ; 
 And answer to no less command 
 
 Than God's, and His alone. 
 
 Are we not Kings ? both night and day. 
 
 From early until late, 
 About our bed, about our way, 
 
 A guard of angels wait ; 
 And so we watch and work and pray 
 
 In more than royal state. 
 
 Are we not holy ? Do not start : 
 It is God's sacred will 
 
Praise. 
 
 To call us temples set apart 
 
 His Holy Ghoft may fill : 
 Our very food . . . . O hufh, my heart, 
 
 Adore IT and be ftiU ! 
 
 Are we not more ? our life (hall be 
 
 Immortal and divine. 
 The nature Mary gave to thee, 
 
 Dear Jesus, ftill is thine ; 
 Adoring in thy heart, I see 
 
 Such blood as beats in mine. 
 
 O God, that we can dare to fail. 
 
 And dare to say we muft ! 
 O God, that we can ever trail 
 
 Such banners in the duft. 
 Can let such ftarry honors pale. 
 
 And such a blazon ruft ! 
 
 Shall we upon such titles bring 
 
 The taint of fin and fhame ? 
 Shall we, the children of the King, 
 
 Who hold so grand a claim, 
 Tarnifh by any meaner thing 
 
 The glory of our name ? 
 
 Miss A, A, Proper. 
 
142 
 
 Praise. 
 
 WHEN all Thy mercies, O my God, 
 My rifing soul surveys, 
 Transported with the view, I 'm loft 
 In wonder, love, and praise. 
 
 Unnumbered comforts to my soul 
 
 Thy tender care beftowed. 
 Before my infant heart conceived 
 
 From whence these comforts flowed. 
 
 When in the flippery paths of youth 
 
 With heedless fteps I ran. 
 Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe. 
 
 And led me up to man. 
 
 Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, 
 
 It gently cleared my way ; 
 And through the pleafing snares of vice. 
 
 More to be feared than they. 
 
 When worn with fickness, oft haft Thou 
 With health renewed my face ; 
 
 And, when in fins and sorrows sunk. 
 Revived my soul with grace. 
 
Praise. 
 
 H3 
 
 Ten thousand, thousand precious gifts 
 
 My daily thanks employ ; 
 Nor is the leaft a cheerful heart 
 
 That taftes those gifts with joy. 
 
 Through every period of my life 
 
 Thy goodness I '11 pursue ; 
 And after death, in diftant worlds. 
 
 The glorious theme renew ! 
 
 Joseph Addison. 1728. 
 
 "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits." — Psalm 
 ciii. 2. 
 
 MY soul repeat His praise. 
 Whose mercies are so great : 
 Whose anger is so flow to rise. 
 So ready to abate. 
 
 High as the heavens are raised 
 Above the ground we tread. 
 
 So far the riches of his grace 
 Our higheft thoughts exceed. 
 
 His power subdues our fins. 
 And his forgiving love, 
 
 P'ar as the eaft is from the weft, 
 Doth all our guilt remove. 
 
144 Praise. 
 
 The pity of the Lord 
 
 To those that fear his name 
 
 Is such as tender parents feel ; 
 He knows our feeble frame. 
 
 Our days are as the grass, 
 Or like the morning flower; 
 
 If one fharp blaft sweeps o'er the field, 
 It withers in an hour. 
 
 But thy companions. Lord, 
 
 To endless years endure ; 
 And children's children ever find 
 
 Thy word of promise sure. 
 
 Isaac Watts, 1674- 1748. 
 
 SEED-TIME AND HARVEST. 
 
 COME, ye thankful people, come. 
 Raise the song of Harveft-Home ! 
 All is safely gathered in. 
 Ere the winter-ftorms begin ; 
 God, our Maker, doth provide 
 For our wants to be supplied ; 
 Come to God's own temple, come. 
 Raise the song of Harveft-Home ! 
 
Praise. 
 
 145 
 
 We ourselves are God's own field, 
 Fruit unto His praise to yield ; 
 Wheat and tares together sown, 
 Unto joy or sorrow grown : 
 Firft the blade, and then the ear. 
 Then the full corn fhall appear : 
 Grant, O Harveft-Lord, that we 
 Wholesome grain and pure may be ! 
 
 For the Lord our God fhall come, 
 And fhall take His harveft home ! 
 From His field fhall purge away 
 All that doth offend, that day ; 
 Give His angels charge at lafl 
 In the fires the tares to caft. 
 But the fruitful ears to ftore 
 In His garner evermore. 
 
 Then, thou Church triumphant, come, 
 
 Raise the song of Harvefl-Home ! 
 
 All are safely gathered in. 
 
 Free from sorrow, free from fin. 
 
 There forever, purified. 
 
 In God's garner to abide : 
 
 Come, ten thousand angels, come. 
 
 Raise the glorious Harveft-Home ! 
 
 Henry Alford. 1 845. 
 
 10 
 
146 
 
 Praise. 
 
 PRAISE TO OUR CREATOR. 
 
 BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, 
 Ye nations bow with sacred joy ; 
 Know that the Lord is God alone j 
 He can create and He deftroy. 
 
 His sovereign power, without our aid, 
 Made us of clay, and formed us men ; 
 
 And when, like wandering (heep, we ftrayed. 
 He brought us to His fold again. 
 
 We are His people, we His care ; 
 
 Our souls, and all our mortal frame : 
 What lafting honors fhall we rear, 
 
 Almighty Maker, to Thy name ? 
 
 We '11 crowd Thy gates, with thankful songs. 
 High as the heaven our voices raise ; 
 
 And earth, with her ten thousand tongues. 
 Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise. 
 
 Wide as the world is Thy command ; 
 
 Vaft as eternity Thy love 
 Firm as a rock Thy truth fhall ftand. 
 
 When rolling years fhall cease to move. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 
 
SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 SELF-CONDEMNATION. 
 
 " If our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth 
 all things." — i John iii. 20. 
 
 LORD, many times I am a-weary quite 
 Of my own self, my fin and vanity ; 
 Yet be not Thou, or I am loft outright. 
 
 Weary of me. 
 
 And hate againft myself I often bear. 
 
 And enter with myself in fierce debate; — 
 Take Thou my part againft myself, nor ftiare 
 
 In that juft hate. 
 
 Beft friends might loathe us, if what things perverse 
 We know of our own selves they also knew ; — 
 Lord, Holy One ! if Thou, who knoweft worse, 
 
 Shouldft loathe us too ! 
 
 R. a Trench. 
 
148 Self- Examination. 
 
 OFOR a closer walk with God, 
 A calm and heavenly frame, 
 A light to ftiine upon the road 
 That leads me to the Lamb ! 
 
 What peaceful hours I once enjoyed ! 
 
 How sweet their memory ftill ! 
 But now I find an aching void 
 
 The world can never fill. 
 
 Return, O holy Dove, return, 
 
 Sweet meflenger of reft ; 
 I hate the fins that made thee mourn, 
 
 And drove thee from my breaft. 
 
 The deareft idol I have known, 
 
 Whate'er that idol be. 
 Help me to tear it from thy throne, 
 
 And worfhip only thee. 
 
 So fhall my walk be close with God, 
 
 Calm and serene my frame \ 
 So purer light fhall mark the road 
 
 That leads me to the Lamb. 
 
 W m . Cowper. 1779. 
 
 . 
 
Self- Examination. 149 
 
 GROWING IN GRACE. 
 
 " But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour 
 Jesus Chrift." — 2 Peter iii. i8. 
 
 THIS did not once so trouble me, 
 That better I could not love Thee ; 
 But now I feel and know, 
 That only when we love, we find 
 How far our hearts remain behind 
 The love they fhould beftow. 
 
 While we had little care to call 
 
 On Thee, and scarcely prayed at all, 
 
 We seemed enough to pray ; 
 But now we only think with fhame, 
 How seldom to Thy glorious name 
 
 Our lips their offerings pay. 
 
 And when we gave yet {lighter heed 
 Unto our suffering brother's need. 
 
 Our hearts reproached us then 
 Not half so much as now, that we 
 With such a careless eye can see 
 
 The woes and wants of men. 
 
150 Self-Examination. 
 
 In doing is this knowledge won, 
 To see what yet remains undone ; 
 
 With this our pride repress ; 
 And give us grace, a growing ftore, 
 That day by day we may do more. 
 
 And may efteem it less. 
 
 R. a Trench. 
 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 "And when he is come, he will reprove the world of fin, and of right- 
 eousness, and of judgment." — John xvi. 8. 
 
 THE world is wise, for the world is old ; 
 Five thousand years their tale have told ; 
 Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — 
 Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! 
 
 The world is kind if we afk not too much ; 
 It is sweet to the tafte, and smooth to the touch ; 
 Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — 
 Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! 
 
 The world is ftrong, with an awful ftrength, 
 
 And full of life in its breadth and length ; 
 
 Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — 
 
 Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! 
 
Self-Examination. 
 
 The world is so beautiful one may fear 
 
 Its borrowed beauty might make it too dear ; 
 
 Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — 
 
 Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! 
 
 The world is good in its own poor way. 
 
 There is reft by night and high spirits by day ; 
 
 Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — 
 
 Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! 
 
 The Cross ftiines fair, and the church-bell rings. 
 And the earth is peopled with holy things ; 
 Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, — 
 Why is it ? why is it ? O, answer me ! 
 
 What lackeft thou, world ? for God made thee of old 
 Why, — thy faith hath gone out, and thy love grown cold; 
 Thou art not happy, as thou mighteft be. 
 For the want of Chrift's fimplicity. 
 
 It is blood that thou lackeft, thou poor old world ! 
 Who ftiall make thy love hot for thee, frozen old world ? 
 Thou art not happy, as thou mighteft be. 
 For the love of dear Jesus is little in thee. 
 
 Poor world ! if thou craveft a better day. 
 Remember that Chrift muft have his own way ; 
 I mourn thou art not as thou mighteft be. 
 But the love of God would do all for thee. 
 
 Frederick Faher. 
 
152 
 
 Self- Examination, 
 
 " Thy people fhall be willing in the day of thy power. — Psalm ex. 3. 
 
 SAVIOUR ! though my rebellious will 
 Has been, by thy blefl: power, renewed ; 
 Yet in its secret workings ftill 
 
 How much remains to be subdued ! 
 
 Oft I recall, with grief and fhame. 
 
 How many years their course had run 
 
 Ere grace my murmuring heart o'ercame. 
 Ere I could say, " Thy will be done ! " 
 
 I wifhed a flowery path to tread. 
 
 And thought 't would safely lead to heaven ; 
 A lonely room, a suffering bed. 
 
 These for my training-place were given. 
 
 Long I refifted, mourned, complained, 
 
 Wifhed any other lot my own ; 
 Thy purpose. Lord, unchanged remained, — 
 
 What wisdom planned, love carried on. 
 
 Year after year I turned away. 
 
 But marred was every scheme I planned ; 
 
 Still the same lesson, day by day. 
 Was placed before me, by thy hand. 
 
Self-Examination. 153 
 
 At length thy patient, wondrous love. 
 
 Unchanging, tender, pitying, ftrong. 
 Availed that ftony heart to move, 
 
 Which had rebelled, alas ! so long. 
 
 Then was I taught by thee to say, 
 
 " Do with me what to thee seems beft ; 
 
 Give, take, whate'er thou wilt away. 
 Health, comfort, usefulness, or reft. 
 
 " Be my whole life in suffering spent. 
 
 But let me be in suffering thine ; 
 Still, O my Lord, I am content, 
 
 Thou now haft made thy pleasure mine." 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
 " We have need of patience, that after ye have done the will of God, 
 ye might receive the promise." — Heb. x. 36, 
 
 AND is there nothing to be done. 
 While here, on this fick bed, I lie ? 
 Should I thus weary to be gone. 
 
 Thus think, 't were better far to die ? 
 
 Alas ! that very thought declares 
 
 How much remains unhallowed ftill ; 
 
 The soul which God for heaven prepares 
 Has loft her own in His bleft will. 
 
154 
 
 Self-Examination. 
 
 And if His work of grace in me 
 
 Were now wellnigh consummated, 
 Contented, willing, fhould I be 
 
 To lie for years on this fick bed. 
 
 f'or then my faith would be so ftrong. 
 Would bring my blessed Lord so near, 
 
 That days, weeks, months, would ne'er seem long. 
 With such a Friend my couch to cheer. 
 
 Full many a sufferer there has seen 
 
 Such proofs of His transcendent worth, 
 
 That e'en their bed of pain has been 
 To them a little heaven on earth. 
 
 O then, my Saviour ! be no more 
 
 Far from me in my hour of need ; 
 Thou canft the fainting soul reftore. 
 
 And make the feeble ftrong indeed. 
 
 O, grant me now that will refigned. 
 That patient, weaned, obedient heart. 
 
 That loving, peaceful, heavenly mind, 
 Thy Spirit can alone impart. 
 
 Let me not languish e'en for home, 
 
 One wifh, one only wifh, be mine ! 
 Each hour more holy to become, 
 
 More fully and entirely Thine ! 
 
 Charlotte Elliott. 
 
Self-Examination. 
 
 ^55 
 
 AS body when the soul has fled, 
 As barren trees, decayed and dead. 
 Is faith, — a hopeless, lifeless thing. 
 If not of righteous deeds the spring. 
 
 One cup of healing oil and wine. 
 One tear-drop (bed on mercy's fbrine. 
 Is thrice more grateful. Lord, to thee, 
 Than lifted eye or bended knee. 
 
 In true and heaven-born faith we trace 
 The source of every Chrifl;ian grace ; 
 Within the pious heart it plays, 
 A living fount of joy and praise. 
 
 Kind deeds of peace and love betray 
 Where'er the ftream has found its way ; 
 But where these spring not rich and fair. 
 The ftream has never wandered there. 
 
 Drummond. 1585 - 1649. 
 
156 Self- Examination. 
 
 BRINGING OUR SHEAVES WITH US. 
 
 THE time for toil is paft, and night is come, — 
 The laft and saddeft of the harveft eves ; 
 Worn out with labor long and wearisome, 
 Drooping and faint the reapers haften home, 
 Each laden with his fheaves. 
 
 Laft of the laborers, thy feet I gain. 
 
 Lord of the harveft ! and my spirit grieves 
 That I am burdened not so much with grain. 
 As with a heaviness of heart and brain ; — 
 Mafter, behold my ftieaves ! 
 
 Few, light, and worthless, — yet their trifling weight 
 
 Through all my frame a weary aching leaves ; 
 For long I ftruggled with my hapless fate. 
 And ftayed and toiled till it was dark and late. 
 Yet these are all my fheaves. 
 
 Full well I know I have more tares than wheat. 
 
 Brambles and flowers, dry ftalks, and withered leaves ; 
 Wherefore I blufti and weep, as at thy feet 
 I kneel down reverently, and repeat, 
 
 Mafter, behold my ftieaves ! 
 
Self-Examination. 157 
 
 I know these bloflbms, cluftering heavily 
 
 With evening dev^^ upon their folded leaves, 
 Can claim no value nor utility ; — 
 Therefore fhall fragrancy and beauty be 
 The glory of my fheaves. 
 
 So do I gather ftrength and hope anew, 
 
 For well I know thy patient love perceives 
 Not what I did, but what I ftrove to do \ 
 And, though the full, ripe ears be sadly few, 
 Thou wilt accept my fheaves. 
 
 Atlantic Monthly, 
 
GOD. 
 
 WHO BY SEARCHING CAN FIND OUT GOD? 
 
 I CANNOT find Thee ! Still on reftless pinion 
 My spirit beats the void where Thou doft dwell ; 
 I wander loft through all Thy vaft dominion, 
 And ftirink beneath Thy Light ineffable. 
 
 I cannot find Thee ! Even when moft adoring 
 Before Thy ftirine I bend in lowlieft prayer, 
 Beyond these bounds of thought, my thought, upsoaring. 
 From furtheft queft comes back ; Thou art not there. 
 
 Yet high above the limits of my seeing. 
 
 And folded far within the inmoft heart. 
 
 And deep below the deeps of conscious being. 
 
 Thy splendor ftiineth j there, O God ! Thou art. 
 
 I cannot lose Thee ! Still in Thee abiding. 
 The End is clear, how wide so e'er I roam ; 
 The Law that holds the worlds my fteps is guiding, 
 And I muft reft at laft in Thee, my home. 
 
 Eliza Scudder. 
 
God. 
 
 159 
 
 "I will put my truft in him." — Heb. ii. 13. 
 
 GIVE to the winds thy fears ; 
 Hope, and be undismayed ; 
 God hears thy fighs, and counts thy tears ; 
 God fhall lift up thy head. 
 
 Through waves, through clouds and ftorms. 
 
 He gently clears thy way ; 
 Wait thou his time, so fhall the night 
 
 Soon end in joyful day. 
 
 He everywhere hath rule. 
 
 And all things serve his might ; 
 
 His every a61: pure bleffing is, 
 His path unsullied light. 
 
 When He makes bare his arm. 
 What fhall his work withltand ? 
 
 When He his people's cause defends, 
 Who then (hall ftay his hand ? 
 
 Leave to his sovereign sway 
 
 To choose and to command : 
 With wonder filled, thou then {halt own 
 
 How wise, how ftrong his hand. 
 
i6o God. 
 
 Thou comprehend'ft him not ; 
 
 Yet earth and heaven tell, 
 God fits as sovereign on the throne : 
 
 He ruleth all things well. 
 
 Thou seeft our weakness, Lord, 
 Our hearts are known to thee ; 
 
 O, lift thou up the finking hand, 
 Confirm the feeble knee ! 
 
 Let us, in life or death. 
 
 Boldly thy truth declare ; 
 And publifh, with our lateft breath. 
 
 Thy love and guardian care. 
 
 Moravian. 
 
 THE Lord is King ! lift up thy voice, 
 O earth, and all ye heavens, rejoice ! 
 From world to world the joy (hall ring, 
 The Lord Omnipotent is King. 
 
 The Lord is King ! who then fhall dare 
 Refift His will, diftruft His care. 
 Or murmur at His wise decrees. 
 Or doubt His royal promises ? 
 
God. l6l 
 
 The Lord is King! Child of the duft, 
 The Judge of all the earth is jufl : 
 Holy and true are all His ways : 
 Let every creature speak His praise. 
 
 He reigns ! ye saints, exalt your (trains ; 
 Your God is King, your Father reigns ; 
 And He is at the Father's fide. 
 The Man of Love, the crucified. 
 
 Come, make your wants, your burdens known. 
 He will present them at the Throne ; 
 And angel bands are waiting there 
 His meflages of love to bear. 
 
 O, when His wisdom can miftake, 
 His might decay. His love forsake, 
 Then may His children cease to fmg. 
 The Lord Omnipotent is King. 
 
 Alike pervaded by His eye, 
 
 All parts of His dominion lie ; 
 
 This world of ours, and worlds unseen, 
 
 And then the boundary between. 
 
 One Lord, one empire, all secures ; 
 He reigns, and life and death are yours : 
 Through earth and heaven one song fliall ring. 
 The Lord Omnipotent is King. 
 
 yojiah Conder. 1856. 
 
l62 
 
 God. 
 
 SOMETIMES a light surprises 
 The Chriftian while He Tings; 
 It is the Lord, who rises 
 
 With healing in His wings : 
 When comforts are declining, 
 
 He grants the soul again 
 A season of clear (hining 
 To cheer it after rain. 
 
 In holy contemplation 
 
 We sweetly then pursue 
 The theme of God's salvation. 
 
 And find it ever new : 
 Set free from present sorrow, 
 
 We cheerfully can say. 
 E'en let the unknown morrow 
 
 Bring with it what it may. 
 
 It can bring with it nothing 
 
 But He will bear us through ; 
 Who gives the lilies clothing 
 
 Will clothe His people too ; 
 Beneath the spreading heavens 
 
 No creature but is fed ; 
 And He, who feeds the ravens. 
 
 Will give His children bread. 
 
God. 
 
 163 
 
 Though vine nor fig-tree neither 
 
 Their wonted fruit (hall bear ; 
 Though all the field (hould wither, 
 
 Nor flocks nor herds be there ; 
 Yet, God the same abiding. 
 
 His praise fhall tune my voice ; 
 For, while in Him confiding, 
 
 I cannot but rejoice. 
 
 William Cowper. 1779. 
 
 I SHALL NOT WANT. 
 
 THOU all-sufficient One, 
 Who art 
 The chosen portion of my heart ! 
 Other rejoicing need I none, — 
 I can find all in Thee, 
 Thou chiefeft good to me ! 
 Who has Thee is satisfied ; 
 Who by Thee doth flill abide 
 Is no more lonely, at Thy fide. 
 
 To whom Thou dofl reveal 
 
 Thy face. 
 He lives in joy in every place, — 
 In everv time has what he will. 
 
164 
 
 God. 
 
 Who in his deep heart-ground 
 To Thee is firmly bound, 
 Still and joyful knows no fear. 
 Earth cofts him no bitter tear, — 
 Earth grows dim when Thou art near. 
 
 O higheft joy of joy ! 
 True reft ! 
 
 Comfort of every aching breaft ! 
 
 Whom can earth trouble and annoy, 
 Whom Thou art near to bless, 
 Who does Thy love polTess ? 
 
 All I seek for out of Thee 
 
 Hindrance to my joy might be. 
 
 And diminifh peace in me. 
 
 Whom Thou doft call Thy child, 
 
 Thine own, — 
 By all on earth may be unknown, 
 By all on earth may be reviled : 
 
 What then? if God be his 
 
 He needs no other bliss. 
 If I know that I have Thee, 
 Life and ftrength and joy may flee. 
 Griefs may come, — they move not me. 
 
 Come, O thou blefTed One, 
 
 My choice ! 
 Now in Thy light make me rejoice, — 
 Come, fill the soul which Thou haft won. 
 
God. 
 
 165 
 
 Come, take the whole, that I 
 
 To Thee may Hve and die. 
 I am Thine, O, be Thou mine. 
 Until in yonder life divine 
 Thy face on me (hall fully fhine ! 
 
 Terjieegen. 1 73 1. 
 
 MAJESTY OF GOD. 
 
 THE Lord descended from above, 
 And bowed the heavens moft high. 
 And underneath His feet He caft 
 The darkness of the Iky. 
 
 On cherubim and seraphim 
 
 Full royally He rode, 
 And on the wings of mighty winds 
 
 Came flying all abroad. 
 
 He sat serene upon the floods. 
 
 Their fury to reftrain ; 
 And He,, as sovereign Lord and King 
 
 For evermore fhall reign. 
 
 Sternhold. 1540. 
 
CHRIST. 
 
 CHRIST'S MESSAGE. 
 
 HARK ! the glad sound ! the Saviour comes ! 
 The Saviour promised long ! 
 Let every heart prepare a throne, 
 And every voice a song. 
 
 On him the Spirit, largely poured, 
 
 Exerts its sacred fire ; 
 Wisdom and might, and zeal and love. 
 
 His holy breaft inspire. 
 
 He comes, the prisoner to release. 
 
 In Satan's bondage held ; 
 The gates of brass before him burft. 
 
 The iron fetters yield. 
 
 He comes from thickeft films of vice 
 
 To clear the mental ray. 
 And on the eyeballs of the blind 
 
 To pour celeftial day. 
 
r 
 
 Chriji. 
 
 ,67 
 
 He comes, the broken heart to bind, 
 
 The bleeding soul to cure. 
 And with the treasures of his grace 
 
 T' enrich the humble poor. 
 
 Our glad hosannas. Prince of Peace, 
 
 Thy welcome fhall proclaim. 
 And heaven's eternal arches ring 
 
 With thy beloved name. * 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 JESUS ! the very thought is sweet ; 
 In that dear name all heart-joys meet ; 
 But sweeter than the honey far 
 The glimpses of his presence are. 
 
 No word is sung more sweet than this ; 
 No name is heard more full of bliss ; 
 No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh, 
 Than Jesus, Son of God, moft high. 
 
 Jesus, the hope of souls forlorn ! 
 How good to them for fin that mourn ; 
 To them that seek Thee, O how kind ! 
 But what art Thou to them that find ? 
 
68 
 
 Chrift. 
 
 No tongue of mortal can express, 
 No letters write its blefledness ; 
 Alone, who hath Thee in his heart 
 Knows, love of Jesus, what Thou art. 
 
 O Jesus, King of wondrous might ; 
 O vi6tor, glorious from the fight ; 
 Sweetness that may not be exprefled, 
 And altogether lovelieft ! 
 
 St. Bernard. 1153. 
 
 THE COMFORTER. 
 
 I LOOK to Thee in every need. 
 And never look in vain ; 
 I feel Thy ftrong and tender love. 
 
 And all is well again : 
 The thought of Thee is mightier far 
 Than fin and pain and sorrow are. 
 
 Discouraged in the work of life. 
 
 Disheartened by its load. 
 Shamed by its failures or its fears, 
 
 I fink befide the road ; — 
 But let me only think of Thee, 
 And then new heart springs up in me. 
 
Chriji. 
 
 Thy calmness bends serene above, 
 
 My reftleflness to ftill ; 
 Around me flows Thy quickening life, 
 
 To nerve my faltering will ; 
 Thy presence fills my solitude ; 
 Thy providence turns all to good. 
 
 Embosomed deep in Thy dear love. 
 
 Held in Thy law, I ftand ; 
 rhy hand in all things I behold. 
 
 And all things in Thy hand ; 
 Thou leadeft me by unsought ways. 
 And turn'ft my mourning into praise. 
 
 Hymns of the Spirit. 
 
 "CLING TO THE MIGHTY ONE." 
 
 CLING to the Mighty One, Ps. Ixxxix. 19. 
 
 Cling in thy grief; Heb. xii. 11. 
 
 Cling to the Holy One, Heb. i. 22. 
 
 He gives relief; Ps. cxvi. 9. 
 
 Cling to the Gracious One, Ps. cxvi. 5. 
 
 Cling in thy pain , Ps. Iv. 4. 
 
 Cling to the Faithful One, i Thess. v. 24. 
 
 He will suftain. Ps. xxviii. 8. 
 
 Cling to the Living One, 
 Cling in thy woe, 
 
 Heb. vii. 25. 
 Ps. Ixxxvi. 7. 
 
170 
 
 Chriji. 
 
 Cling to the Living Une 
 
 I John IV. ID. 
 
 Through all below ; 
 
 Rom. viii. 38, 39 
 
 Cling to the Pardoning One, 
 
 Is. iv. 7. 
 
 He speaketh peace ; 
 
 John XIV. 27. 
 
 Cling to the Healing One, 
 
 Exod. XV. 26. 
 
 Anguish shall cease. 
 
 rs. cxviii. 3. 
 
 L-lmg to the Dleeding Une, 
 
 I John 1. 7. 
 
 Cling to his side ; 
 
 John XX. 27. 
 
 Cling to the Risen Une, 
 
 Kom. VI. 9. 
 
 in 0 1 III dDiue , 
 
 JOIIII XV. ^. 
 
 Cling to the Coming One, 
 
 Rev. xxii. 20. 
 
 Hope fhall arise ; 
 
 Titus ii. 13. 
 
 Cling to the Reigning One, 
 
 Ps. xcvii. I. 
 
 Joy lights thine eyes. 
 
 Ps. xvi. II. 
 
 "A refuge from the ftorm, a fnadow from the heat, &c." — Isaiah xxv. 4. 
 
 JESUS ! lover of my soul. 
 Let me to thy bosom fly. 
 While the nearer waters roll. 
 
 While the tempeft ftill is nigh ! 
 Hide me, O my Saviour ! hide, 
 Till the ftorm of life is paft ; 
 Safe into the haven guide ; 
 O, receive my soul at laft ! 
 
Chriji. 
 
 171 
 
 Other refuge have I none ; 
 
 Hangs my helpless soul on Thee ! 
 Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, 
 
 Still support and comfort me ! 
 All my truft on Thee is flayed ; 
 
 All my help from Thee I bring ; 
 Cover my defenceless head 
 
 With the fhadow of thy wing ! 
 
 Wilt Thou not regard my call ? 
 
 Wilt Thou not accept my prayer ? 
 Lo ! I fmk, I faint, I fall ! 
 
 Lo ! on Thee I caft my care ! 
 Reach me out thy gracious hand ! 
 
 While I of thy flrength receive. 
 Hoping againft hope I ftand, 
 
 Dying, and behold I live ! 
 
 Thou, O Chrift, art all I want ; 
 
 More than all in Thee I find ; 
 Raise the fallen, cheer the faint. 
 
 Heal the fick, and lead the blind ! 
 Just and holy is thy name, 
 
 I am all unrighteousness ; 
 P'alse and full of fin I am. 
 
 Thou art full of truth and grace. 
 
 Plenteous grace with Thee is found, — 
 Grace to cover all my fm ; 
 
172 Chrift. 
 
 Let the healing ftreams abound, 
 Make and keep me pure within. 
 
 Thou of life the fountain art ; 
 Freely let me take of Thee ; 
 
 Spring Thou up within my heart ; 
 Rise to all eternity. 
 
 Charles Wejley. 1740. 
 
 LOST BUT FOUND. 
 
 I WAS a wandering (heep, 
 I did not love the fold ; 
 I did not love my Shepherd's voice, " 
 
 I would not be controlled. 
 I was a wayward child, 
 
 I did not love my home, 
 I did not love my Father's voice, 
 I loved afar to roam. 
 
 The Shepherd sought his ftieep, 
 
 The Father sought his child, 
 They followed me o'er vale and hill, 
 
 O'er deserts wafte and wild. 
 They found me nigh to death, 
 
 Famifhed, and faint, and lone ; 
 They bound me with the bands of love. 
 
 They saved the wandering one. 
 
Chr'lji. 
 
 173 
 
 They spoke in tender love, 
 
 They raised my drooping head ; 
 They gently closed my bleeding wounds, 
 
 My fainting soul they fed. 
 They wafhed my filth away. 
 
 They made me clean and fair ; 
 They brought me to my home in peace, — 
 
 The long-sought wanderer ! 
 
 Jesus my Shepherd is, 
 
 'T was He that loved my soul, 
 'T was He that wafhed me in his blood, 
 
 'T was He that made me whole. 
 'T was He that sought the loft. 
 
 That found the wandering ftieep, 
 'T was He that brought me to the fold, 
 
 'T is He that ftill doth keep. 
 
 I was a wandering ftieep, 
 
 I would not be controlled : 
 But now I love my Shepherd's voice, 
 
 I love, I love the fold ! 
 I was a wayward child, 
 
 I once preferred to roam : 
 But now I love my leather's voice, 
 
 I love, I love his home ! 
 
 H. Bonar. i860. 
 
174 
 
 Chrift. 
 
 THOU art the Way ; and he who fighs. 
 Amid this ftarless wafte of woe, 
 To find a pathway to the (kies, 
 
 A light from heaven's eternal glow, 
 By Thee muft come, thou Gate of love. 
 
 Through which the saints undoubting trod, 
 Till faith discovers, like the dove, 
 An ark, a refting-place in God. 
 
 Thou art the Truth, whose fteady day 
 
 Shines on through earthly blight and bloom 
 The pure, the everlafting Ray, 
 
 The Lamp that ftiines e'en in the tomb ; 
 The Light that out of darkness springs. 
 
 And guideth those that blindly go ; 
 The Word whose precious radiance flings 
 
 Its luflre upon all below. 
 
 Thou art the Life, the bleffed Well 
 
 With living waters gufhing o'er. 
 Which those that drink fhall ever dwell 
 
 Where fin and thirft are known no more. 
 Thou art the myftic Pillar given. 
 
 Our Lamp by night, our Light by day ; 
 Thou art the sacred Bread from heaven ; 
 
 Thou art the Life, the Truth, the Way. 
 
THE HOLY SPIRIT. 
 
 COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
 With all thy quickening powers. 
 Kindle a flame of sacred love 
 In these cold hearts of ours. 
 
 In vain we tune our formal songs. 
 
 In vain we ftrive to rise ; 
 Hosannas languifh on our tongues, 
 
 And our devotion dies. 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, 
 
 With all thy quickening powers; 
 Come, fhed abroad a Saviour's love. 
 
 And that (hall kindle ours. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 
 
176 
 
 The Holy Spirit. 
 
 COME, MIGHTY SPIRIT. 
 
 COME, mighty Spirit, penetrate 
 This heart and soul of mine ; 
 And my whole being with thy grace 
 Pervade, O Life divine ! 
 
 As this clear air surrounds the earth, 
 
 Thy grace around me roll ; 
 As the frefh light pervades the air, 
 
 So pierce and fill my soul. 
 
 As from these clouds drops down in love 
 
 The precious summer rain, 
 So from thyself pour down the flood 
 
 That frefhens all again. 
 
 As these fair flowers exhale their scent 
 
 In gladness at our feet. 
 So from thyself let fragrance breathe. 
 
 More heavenly and more sweet. 
 
 Thus life within our lifeless hearts 
 
 Shall make its glad abode ; 
 And we fhall (bine in beauteous light. 
 
 Filled with the light of God. 
 
 H. Bonar. i860. 
 
The Holy Spirit. 
 
 ^11 
 
 VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS. 
 
 COME, Holy Spirit ! from the height, 
 Of heaven send down Thy blefled light ! 
 Come, Father of the friendless poor ! 
 Giver of gifts, and Light of hearts. 
 Come with that unction which imparts 
 Such consolations as endure. 
 
 The Soul's Refrefliment and her Gueft, 
 Shelter in heat, in labor Reft, 
 
 The sweeteft Solace in our woe ! 
 Come, blissful Light ! O come and fill. 
 In all Thy faithful, heart and will. 
 
 And make our inward fervor glow. 
 
 Where Thou art. Lord ! there is no ill. 
 For evil's self Thy light can kill. 
 
 O let that light upon us rise. 
 Lord ! heal our wounds, and cleanse our ftains. 
 Fountain of grace ! and with thy rains 
 
 Our barren spirits fertilize. 
 
 Bend with Thy fires our ftubborn will, 
 And quicken what the world would chill, 
 And homeward call the feet that ftray : 
 
178 
 
 The Holy Spirit. 
 
 Virtue's reward, and final grace, 
 The Eternal vifion face to face. 
 Spirit of Love ! for these we pray. 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit ! bid us live ; 
 To those who truft Thy mercy give 
 
 Joys that through endless ages flow : 
 Thy various gifts, foretaftes of heaven, 
 Those that are named Thy sacred Seven, 
 
 On us, O God of love, beftow. 
 
 Frederick Faher. 1856. 
 
 HOLY COMMUNION. 
 
 THEY talked of Jesus as they went ; 
 And Jesus, all unknown. 
 Did at their fide himself present 
 
 With sweetness all his own. 
 Swift as He oped the sacred word, 
 
 His glory they discerned ; 
 And swift, as his dear voice they heard. 
 Their hearts within them burned. 
 
 He would have left them, but that they 
 With prayers his love afi^ailed : 
 
 " Depart not yet ! a little ftay ! " 
 They prefixed Him, and prevailed. 
 
The Holy Spirit. 
 
 And Jesus was revealed, as there 
 
 He bleffed and brake the bread : 
 
 But, while they marked his heavenly air. 
 
 The matchless Gueft had fled. 
 
 And thus at times, as Chriftians talk 
 
 Of Jesus and his word. 
 He joins two friends amidft their walk. 
 
 And makes, unseen, a third. 
 And O how sweet their converse flows ! 
 
 Their holy theme how clear ! 
 How warm with love each bosom glows. 
 
 If Jesus be but near ! 
 
 And they that woo his vifits sweet. 
 
 And will not let Him go. 
 Oft, while his broken bread they eat. 
 
 His soul-felt presence know : 
 His gathered friends He loves to meet. 
 
 And fill with joy their faith. 
 When they with melting hearts repeat 
 
 The memory of his death. 
 
 But such sweet vifits here are brief ; 
 
 Dispensed from ftage to fi:age 
 (A cheering and a prized relief) 
 
 Of faith's hard pilgrimage. 
 There is a scene where Jesus ne'er. 
 
 Ne'er leaves his happy guefl:s ; 
 He spreads a ceaseless banquet there. 
 
 And love (till fires their breafts. 
 
 Thomas Grinfield. 1 836. 
 
i8o 
 
 The Holy Spirit. 
 
 CANA. • 
 
 DEAR Friend, whose presence in the house, 
 Whose gracious word benign. 
 Could once at Cana's wedding feaft 
 Turn water into wine, — 
 
 Come vifit us, and when dull work 
 
 Grows weary, line on line. 
 Revive our souls, and make us see 
 
 Life's water glow as wine. 
 
 Gay mirth fhall deepen into joy. 
 
 Earth's hopes fhall grow divine, 
 When Jesus vifits us, to turn 
 
 Life's water into wine. 
 
 The social talk, the evening fire. 
 
 The homely household (hrine. 
 Shall glow with angels' vifits when 
 
 The Lord pours out the wine ! 
 
 For when self-seeking turns to love. 
 Which knows not mine and thine, 
 
 The miracle again is wrought, 
 And water changed to wine. 
 
 Rev. Jas. F. Clarke. 1856. 
 
LOVE. 
 
 GLORY TO GOD ALONE. 
 
 O LOVED ! but not enough, though dearer far 
 Than self and its moft loved enjoyments are ; 
 None duly loves Thee, but who, nobly free 
 From sensual objects, finds his all in Thee. 
 
 Glory of God ! thou ftranger here below, 
 Whom man nor knows, nor feels a wifh to know j 
 Our faith and reason are both (hocked to find 
 Man in the poft of honor. Thee behind. 
 
 My soul ! reft happy in thy low eftate. 
 Nor hope nor wifh to be efteemed or great : 
 To take the impreffion of a Will Divine, 
 Be that thy glory, and those riches thine. 
 
 Confess Him righteous in his juft decrees. 
 
 Love what He loves, and let his pleasures please ; 
 
 Die daily; from the touch of fin recede; 
 
 Then thou haft crowned Him, and He reigns indeed. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648- 1717. 
 
l82 
 
 Love. 
 
 
 A LITTLE BIRD I AM. 
 
 
 Composed in Prison. 
 
 
 A LITTLE bird I am, 
 
 
 1 jL bhut rrom the nelds or air ; 
 
 
 And in my cage I fit and fing 
 
 
 To Him who placed me there ; 
 
 
 Well pleased a prisoner to be, 
 
 
 Because, my God, it pleases Thee. 
 
 
 Naught have I else to do ; 
 
 
 I fing the whole day long ; 
 
 
 AlTT 1 ATI 1 
 
 And He whom molt 1 love to please 
 
 
 Doth liften to my song ; 
 
 
 He caught and bound my wanderinp; wins;. 
 
 
 But ftill He bends to hear me fing. 
 
 
 1 hou halt an ear to hear, 
 
 
 A heart to love and bless ; 
 
 
 And though my notes were e'er so rude. 
 
 
 1 hou wouldit not hear the less ; 
 
 
 Because Thou knoweft, as they fall. 
 
 
 That love, sweet love, inspires them all. 
 
 
 My cage confines me round ; 
 
 
 Abroad I cannot fly ; 
 
Love, 183 
 
 But though my wing is closely bound, 
 
 My heart 's at liberty. 
 My prison walls cannot control 
 The flight, the freedom, of the soul. 
 
 O, it is good to soar 
 
 These bolts and bars above. 
 To Him whose purpose I adore. 
 
 Whose providence I love ; 
 And in Thy mighty will to find 
 The joy, the freedom, of the mind. 
 
 Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 . 
 
 PRISONS DO NOT EXCLUDE GOD. 
 In Prison. 
 
 TRONG are all the walls around me. 
 That hold me all the day ; 
 
 But they who thus have bound me 
 
 Cannot keep God away : 
 My very dungeon walls are dear. 
 Because the God I love is here. 
 
 They know, who thus oppress me, 
 'T is hard to be alone ; 
 
Love, 
 
 But know not One can bless me 
 
 Who comes through bars and stone : 
 He makes my dungeon's darkness bright. 
 And fills my bosom with delight. 
 
 Thy love, O God ! reftores me 
 
 From fighs and tears to praise ; 
 And deep my soul adores Thee, 
 
 Nor thinks of time or place : 
 I afk no more, in good or ill, 
 But union with Thy holy will. 
 
 'T is that which makes my treasure, 
 
 'T is that which brings my gain \ 
 Converting woe to pleasure. 
 
 And reaping joy from pain. 
 O, 't is enough, whate'er befall. 
 To know that God is All in All. 
 
 Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1717. 
 
 LOVE CONSTITUTES MY CRIME. 
 In Prison. 
 
 LOVE conftitutes my crime ; 
 For this they keep me here, 
 Imprisoned thus so long a time 
 For Him I hold so dear ; 
 
Love. 
 
 185 
 
 And yet I am, as when I came, 
 The subje6l of this holy flame. 
 
 How can I better grow ! 
 
 How from my own heart fly ! 
 Those who imprison me fhould know 
 
 True love can never die. 
 Yea, tread and crufh it with disdain, 
 And it will live and burn again. 
 
 And am I then to blame ? 
 
 He 's always in my fight ; 
 And having once inspired the flame. 
 
 He always keeps it bright. 
 For this they smite me and reprove, 
 Because I cannot cease to love. 
 
 What power fhall dim its ray. 
 
 Dropped burning from above ! 
 Eternal Life fhall ne'er decay ; 
 
 God is the life of love. 
 And when its source of life is o'er. 
 And only then, 't will fhine no more. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648 -1717. 
 
i86 
 
 Love. 
 
 1 
 
 THE ACQUIESCENCE OF PURE LOVE. 
 In Prison. 
 
 LOVE ! if thy deftined sacrifice am I, 
 Come, flay thy vi6lim, and prepare thy fires ; 
 Plunged in thy depths of mercy, let me die 
 The death which every soul that lives defires. 
 
 I watch my hours, and see them fleet away ; 
 The time is long that I have languifhed here j 
 Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obev, 
 With no reluilance, cheerful and fincere. 
 
 To me 't is equal, whether love ordain 
 My life or death, appoint me pain or ease ; 
 Mv soul perceives no real ill in pain ; 
 In ease or health no real good fhe sees. 
 
 One good (he covets, and that good alone, 
 To choose thy will, from selfifh bias free ; 
 And to prefer a cottage to a throne. 
 And grief to comfort, if it pleases Thee. 
 
 That we fhould bear the cross is thy command. 
 Die to the world, and live to self no more ; 
 Suffer, unmoved, beneath the rudeft hand ; 
 When (hipwrecked pleased as when upon the fhore. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648- 171 7. 
 
Love, 
 
 187 
 
 / 
 
 THE LIGHT ABOVE US. 
 
 THERE is a light in yonder (kies, 
 A light unseen by outward eyes ; 
 But clear and bright to inward sense 
 It fhines, the ftar of Providence. 
 
 The radiance of the central throne. 
 It comes from God, and God alone ; — 
 The ray that never yet grew pale. 
 The ftar that "fhines within the veil." 
 
 And faith, unchecked by earthly fears. 
 Shall lift its eye, though filled with tears. 
 And while around 't is dark as night, 
 Untired, (hall mark that heavenly light. 
 
 In vain they smite me. Men but do 
 What God permits with different view; — 
 To outward fight they wield the rod. 
 But faith proclaims it all of God. 
 
 Unmoved, then, let me keep my way ; 
 Supported by that cheering ray 
 Which, fhining diftant, renders clear 
 The clouds and darkness thronging near. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648- 1717. 
 
i88 
 
 Love, 
 
 FOREST HYMN. 
 
 HERE, sweetly forgetting and wholly forgot 
 By the world and its turbulent throng, 
 The birds and the ftream lend me many a note 
 That aids meditation and song. 
 
 Ye desolate scenes, to your solitude led, 
 
 My life I in praises employ. 
 And scarce know the source of the tears that I fhed. 
 
 Whether springing from sorrow or joy. 
 
 Though awfully filent, and fliaggy and rude, 
 I am charmed with the peace ye afford ; 
 
 Your (hades are a temple where none will intrude. 
 The abode of my Lover and Lord. 
 
 Ah, send me not back to the race of mankind. 
 
 Perversely by folly beguiled ; 
 For where in the crowds I have left ftiall I find 
 
 The spirit and heart of a child ? 
 
 Here let me, though fixed in a desert, be free, 
 
 A little one whom they despise ; 
 Though loft to the world, if in union with Thee, 
 
 I am holy, and happy, and wise. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648- 17 17. 
 
r 
 
 Love. 
 
 DIVINE CONSOLATIONS. 
 
 MY heart is easy and my burden light ; 
 I smile, though sad, when God is in my fight ; 
 The more my woes in secret I deplore, 
 I tafte thy goodness, and I love Thee more. 
 
 There, while a solemn ftillness reigns around. 
 Faith, love, and hope within my soul abound ; 
 And while the world suppose me loft in care, 
 The joys of angels unperceived I fhare. 
 
 Thy creatures wrong thee, O thou Sovereign Good ! 
 Thou art not loved, because not underftood ; 
 This grieves me moft, that vain pursuits beguile 
 Ungrateful men, regardless of thy smile. 
 
 Frail beauty and false honor are adored. 
 
 While Thee they scorn, and trifle with thy word ; 
 
 Pass, unconcerned, a Saviour's sorrows by. 
 
 And hunt their ruin with a zeal to die. 
 
 Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 . 
 
190 
 
 Love, 
 
 RESIGNATION. 
 
 I PLACE an offering at Thy fhrine, 
 From taint and blemifh clear, 
 Simple and pure in its defign, 
 Of all that I hold dear. 
 
 I yield Thee back thy gifts again, 
 
 Thy gifts which moft I prize ; 
 Defirous only to retain 
 
 The notice of thine eyes. 
 
 But if bv thine adored decree 
 
 That blelTing be denied, 
 Refigned, and unreluclant, see 
 
 My every wifh subfidc. 
 
 Thy will in all things I approve. 
 
 Exalted or caft down ; 
 Thy will in every ftate I love. 
 
 And even in thy frown. 
 
 Madame Guy on. 1648- 1 71 7. 
 
Love. 
 
 191 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 YES ! I will always love ; and, as I ought, 
 Tune to the praise of love my ceaseless voice j 
 Preferring love, too vaft for human thought, 
 
 In spite of erring men, who cavil at my choice. 
 
 Why have I not a thousand, thousand hearts. 
 Lord of my soul! that they might all be thine? 
 
 If thou approve, — the zeal thy smile imparts, 
 
 How (hould it ever fail ? Can such a fire decline ? 
 
 Love, pure and holy, is a deathless fire ; 
 
 Its object heavenly, it muft ever blaze ; 
 Eternal love a God muft needs inspire. 
 
 When once he wins the heart and fits it for his praise. 
 
 Self-love dismiffed, — 't is then we live indeed ; 
 
 In her embrace, death, only death is found ; 
 Come then, one noble effort, and succeed, 
 
 Caft off the chain of self with which thy soul is bound. 
 
 O, I would cry, that all the world might hear. 
 Ye self-tormenters, love your God alone ; 
 
 Let his unequalled excellence be dear, 
 
 Dear to your inmoft souls, and make him all your own. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648-1717. 
 
Love. 
 
 JOY IN THE CROSS. 
 
 LONG plunged in sorrow, I refign 
 My soul to that dear hand of Thine, 
 Without reserve or fear ; 
 That hand fhall wipe my ftreaming eyes. 
 Or into smiles of glad surprise 
 Transform the falling tear. 
 
 My sole pofleflion is Thy love ; 
 In earth beneath or heaven above, 
 
 I have no other ftore ; 
 And though with fervent suit I pray, 
 And importune Thee night and day, 
 
 I a(k Thee nothing more. 
 
 My rapid hours pursue the course 
 Prescribed them by love's sweeteft force. 
 
 And I Thy sovereign will, 
 Without a wifh to 'scape my doom ; 
 Though ftill a sufferer from the womb, 
 
 And doomed to suffer ftill. 
 
 By Thy command, whene'er I ftray. 
 Sorrow attends me all my way, 
 A never-failing friend ; 
 
Love. 
 
 And, if my sufferings may augment 
 Thy praise, behold me well content. 
 Let Sorrow ftill attend ! 
 
 It cofts me no regret, that (he 
 
 Who followed Chrift fhould follow me 
 
 And though, where'er (he goes. 
 Thorns spring spontaneous at her feet, 
 I love her, and extrail a sweet 
 
 From all her bitter woes. 
 
 Adieu! ye vain delights of earth, 
 Infipid sports and childifh mirth, 
 
 I tafte no sweets in you ; 
 Unknown delights are in the cross; 
 All joy befide to me is dross. 
 
 And Jesus thought so too. 
 
 The Cross ! O ravifhment and bliss, — 
 How grateful e'en its anguifli is. 
 
 Its bitterness how sweet ! 
 There every sense, and all the mind. 
 In all her faculties refined, 
 
 Tafte happiness complete. 
 
 Souls, once enabled to disdain 
 Base, sublunary joys, maintain 
 
 Their dignity secure ; 
 The fever of desire is pafled. 
 And love has all its genuine tafte, 
 
 Is delicate and pure. 
 
194 
 
 Love. 
 
 Self-love no grace in Sorrow sees. 
 Consults her own peculiar ease ; 
 
 'T is all the bliss (he knows ; 
 But nobler aims true Love employ, 
 In self-denial is her joy, 
 
 In suffering her repose. 
 
 Sorrow and Love go fide by side ; 
 Nor height nor depth can e'er divide 
 
 Their heaven-appointed bands ; 
 Those dear afTociates ftill are one. 
 Nor till the race of life is run 
 
 Disjoin their wedded hands. 
 
 Jesus, avenger of our fall. 
 Thou faithful lover, above all 
 
 The cross have ever borne ! 
 O tell me — life is in thy voice — 
 How much affli£lions were thy choice, 
 
 And lloth and ease thy scorn ! 
 
 Thy choice and mine fhall be the same, 
 Inspirer of that holy flame. 
 
 Which muft forever blaze ! 
 To take the cross and follow Thee, 
 Where love and duty lead, {hall be 
 
 My portion and my praise. 
 
 Madame Guy on . 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 . 
 
Love, 
 
 DIVINE ADOPTION. 
 
 HOW happy are the new-born race, 
 Partakers of adopting grace ! 
 How pure the bliss they fhare ! 
 Hid from the world and all its eyes, 
 Within their heart the bleffing lies, 
 And conscience feels it there. 
 
 The moment we believe, 't is ours ; 
 And if we love with all our powers 
 
 The God from whom it came. 
 And if we serve with hearts fincere, 
 'T is ftill discernible and clear 
 
 An undisputed claim. 
 
 But ah ! if foul and wilful fin 
 Stain and dishonor us within. 
 
 Farewell the joy we knew ; 
 Again the flaves of nature's sway. 
 In lab'rinths of our own we ftray. 
 
 Without a guide or clew. 
 
 The chafte and pure, who fear to grieve 
 The gracious Spirit they receive. 
 His work diftin6lly trace. 
 
196 
 
 Love. 
 
 And, ftrong in undiflembling love, 
 Boldly affert and clearly prove 
 Their hearts his dwelling-place. 
 
 O meflenger of dear delight, 
 
 Whose voice dispels the deepeft night, 
 
 Sweet peace-proclaiming Dove ! 
 With thee at hand to soothe our pains, 
 No wifti unsatisfied remains. 
 
 No tafk but that of love. 
 
 'T is love unites what fin divides ; 
 The centre where all bliss refides ; 
 
 To which the soul once brought. 
 Reclining on the firft great Cause, 
 From his abounding sweetness draws 
 
 Peace pafling human thought. 
 
 Sorrow foregoes its nature there. 
 And life affumes a tranquil air. 
 
 Diverted of its woes ; 
 There, sovereign goodness soothes the breaft, 
 Till then incapable of reft. 
 
 In sacred, sure repose. 
 
 Madame Guy on. 1 648 - 1 7 1 7 • 
 
Love. 
 
 GOD'S GLORY AND GOODNESS. 
 
 ALMIGHTY Former of this wondrous plan, 
 Faintly reflected in thine image, man ; 
 Holy and juft ! the greatness of whose name 
 Fills and supports this universal frame ! 
 
 Diffused throughout infinitude of space, 
 Who art thyself thine own vafl dwelling-place j 
 Soul of our soul ! whom yet no sense of ours 
 Discerns, eluding our moft adlive powers ; — 
 
 Encircling fhades attend thine awful throne. 
 That veil thy face, and keep Thee ftill unknown ; 
 Unknown, though dwelling in our inmofl part. 
 Lord of the thoughts, and sovereign of the heart. 
 
 Thou art my bliss ! the light by which I move ! 
 In Thee, O God ! dwells all that I can love. 
 Where'er I turn, I see thy power and grace, 
 Which ever watch, and bless our heedless race. 
 
 O, then repeat the truth that never tires ; 
 No God is like the God my soul defires ; 
 He at whose voice heaven trembles, even He, 
 Great as He is, knows how to ftoop to me. 
 
Love. 
 
 Vain pageantry and pomp of earth, adieu ! 
 I have no willi, no memory for you ! 
 Rich in God's love, I feel my nobleft pride 
 Spring from the sense of having naught befide. 
 
 Madame Guyon. 1648- 1717. 
 
 ENTIRE SUBMISSION. 
 
 GOD'S ways are not as our u^ays. His thoughts are 
 not as ours; 
 
 He wounds us sore with cruel thorns, where we have 
 
 ftooped for flowers ; 
 But oh ! 't is from the oft-pierced heart those precious 
 
 drops diftil. 
 
 That many a life, else all unbleft, with healing balm 
 fhall fill ; 
 
 Then give, O give the flower to those who prav it so 
 • may be. 
 
 But I would choose to have the thorns, with Thee, 
 dear Lord, with Thee ! 
 
 Man judgeth man in ignorance, he seeth but in part; 
 Our truit is in our Maker, God, who searcheth every 
 heart ; 
 
 And every wrong and every woe, when put beneath our 
 feet. 
 
 As ftepping-ftones may help us on to His high mercy- 
 seat. 
 
Love. 
 
 199 
 
 Then teach us ftill to smile, O Lord ! though (harp the 
 
 ftones may be, 
 Remembering that they bring us near to Thee, dear 
 
 Lord, to Thee ! 
 
 Mift-veiled and rough the path we tread, e'er haunted 
 as we go 
 
 With piteous fights of wretchedness, and piteous sounds 
 of woe ; 
 
 And eagerly for happiness we look on either fide, 
 To find all pleasures time can give leave us unsatisfied ; 
 O make me of those blefl'ed ones from earth's vain 
 troubles free, 
 
 Whose conftant souls reft every hope in Thee, dear 
 Lord, in Thee ! 
 
 So bitter is the cup of life, we fain would drink no more. 
 " O let the cup but pass from me ! " in anguifh we im- 
 plore ; 
 
 But days and months and years roll on, and lo ! 't is 
 
 afked at length, 
 When was it that our souls put on ' new majefty and 
 
 ftrength ? 
 
 All is revealed, the Marah-draught no longer we would 
 flee ; 
 
 'T is held in wisdom to our lips by Thee, dear Lord, 
 by Thee ! 
 
 Our neareft and our deareft go, — go from us one by one ; 
 Where now are those who walked with us 'neath youth's 
 unclouded sun ? 
 
200 
 
 Love. 
 
 Sadder than separation, sadder than death, came change, 
 And our once blooming Paradise is now a desert ftrange ; 
 Yet in this desolation, I afk but faith to see 
 That nothing- can divide us now from Thee, dear Lord, 
 from Thee ! 
 
 NEARER, my God, to Thee, 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 E'en though it be a cross 
 
 That raiseth me ; 
 Still all my song (hall be. 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Though like the wanderer, 
 
 The sun gone down, 
 Darkness be over me, 
 
 My reft a ftone ; 
 Yet in my dreams I 'd be 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 There let the way appear 
 
 Steps unto Heaven ; 
 All that Thou send'ft to me 
 
 In mercy given ; 
 
Love. 
 
 201 
 
 Angels to beckon me 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Then with my waking thoughts 
 
 Bright with Thy praise. 
 Out of my ftony griefs 
 
 Bethel I '11 raise ; 
 So by my woes to be 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Or if on joyful wing 
 
 Cleaving the fky. 
 Sun, moon, and ftars forgot. 
 
 Upwards I fly. 
 Still all my song {hall be. 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
 
 Nearer to Thee ! 
 
 Sarah F. Adams. 1848. 
 
 THOUGH some good things of lower worth 
 iVIy heart is called on to refign, 
 Of all the gifts in heaven and earth. 
 The greateft and the beft is mine : 
 
202 Love. 
 
 The love of God in Chrift made known, — 
 The love that is enough alone, 
 My Father's love is all my own. 
 
 My soul's Reftorer, let me learn 
 
 In that deep love to live and reft, — 
 
 Let me the precious thing discern 
 Of which I am indeed pofleffed. 
 
 My treasure let me feel and see, 
 
 And let my moments, as they flee. 
 
 Unfold my endless life in Thee. 
 
 Let me not dwell so much within 
 
 My bounded heart, with anxious heed. 
 Where all my searches meet with fin. 
 
 And nothing satisfies my need. 
 It fhuts me from the sound and fight 
 Of that pure world of life and light, 
 Which has no breadth or length or height. 
 
 Let me Thy power. Thy beauty see ; 
 
 So fhall the hopeless labor cease. 
 And my free heart fhall follow Thee 
 
 Through paths of everlafting peace. 
 My ftrength Thy gift, — my life Thy care, — 
 I ftiall forget to seek elsewhere 
 The wealth to which my soul is heir. 
 
 I was not called to walk alone, 
 
 To clothe myself with love and light ; 
 
Love. 
 
 203 
 
 And for Thy glorv, not my own, 
 
 My soul is precious in Thy fight. 
 My evil heart can never be 
 A home, a heritage for me, — 
 But Thou canft make it fit for Thee. 
 
 Miss A, L. Waring. 1862. 
 
 MY heart is refting, O my God, — 
 I will give thanks and fing ; 
 My heart is at the secret source 
 
 Of every precious thing. 
 Now the frail vefTel Thou haft made 
 
 No hand but Thine can fill, — 
 For the waters of the earth have failed, 
 And I am thirfty ftill. 
 
 I thirft for springs of heavenly life. 
 
 And here all day they rise ; 
 I seek the treasure of Thy love, 
 
 And close at hand it lies. 
 And a new song is in mv mouth. 
 
 To long-loved mufic set, — 
 Glorv to Thee for all the grace 
 
 I have not tafted yet. 
 
204 
 
 Love. 
 
 Glory to Thee for ftrength withheld, 
 
 For want and weakness known, — 
 And the fear that sends me to Thy breaft 
 
 For what is moft my own. 
 I have a heritage of joy 
 
 That yet I muft not see ; 
 But the hand that bled to make it mine 
 
 Is keeping it for me. 
 
 There is a certainty of love 
 
 That sets my heart at reft, — 
 A calm afTurance for to-day 
 
 That to be poor is beft, — 
 A prayer repofing on His truth 
 
 Who hath made all things mine. 
 That draws my captive will to Him, 
 
 And makes it one with Thine. 
 
 I will give thanks for suffering now. 
 
 For want and toil and loss, — 
 For the death that fin makes hard and flow. 
 
 Upon my Saviour's cross. 
 Thanks for the little spring of love 
 
 Xhat gives me ftrength to say. 
 If they will leave me part in Him, 
 
 Let all things pass away. 
 
 Miss A. L. Waring. 1862. 
 
Love. 
 
 205 
 
 " Thou wilt keep him in perfeft peace whose mind is ftayed on Thee : 
 because he trufteth in Thee." — Isa, xxvi. 3. 
 
 OTHIS is bleffing, this is reft! 
 Into thine arms, O Lord, I flee : 
 I hide me in thy faithful breaft, 
 And pour out all my soul to Thee. 
 There is a hoft difluading me, — 
 But, all their voices far above, 
 I hear thy vi^ords, — "O tafte and see 
 The comfort of a Saviour's love." 
 And, hufhing every adverse sound, 
 Songs of defence my soul surround, 
 As if all saints encamped about 
 One trufting heart, pursued by doubt. 
 
 And O how solemn, yet how sweet, 
 Their one aflured, persuafive ftrain ! 
 "The Lord of Hofts is thy retreat. 
 The Man who bore thy fin, thy pain. 
 Still in his hand thy times remain, — 
 Still of his body thou art part ; 
 And he will prove his right to reign 
 O'er all things that concern thy heart." 
 
 0 tenderness, O truth divine ! 
 Lord, I am altogether thine. 
 
 1 have bowed down, — I need not flee, — 
 Peace, peace is mine in trufting Thee. 
 
206 
 
 Love, 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 And now I count supremely kind 
 The rule that once I thought severe, 
 And precious to my altered mind 
 At length thy leall: reproofs appear. 
 Now to the love that cafts out fear 
 Mercy and truth indeed seem one ; 
 Why fhould I hold mv ease so dear ? 
 The work of training muft be done. 
 I muft be taught what I would know 
 I muft be led where I would go, 
 And all the reft ordained for me. 
 Till that which is not seen I see. 
 Is to be found in trufting Thee. 
 
 Miss A. L. Waring. 
 
 Psalm xiii. 7, 8. 
 
 GO not far from me, O my Strength, 
 Whom all my times obey ; 
 Take from me anything Thou wilt. 
 
 But go not Thou away, — 
 And let the ftorm that does Thy work 
 Deal with me as it may. 
 
 On Thy compaffion I repose. 
 In weakness and diftress : 
 
Love. 
 
 207 
 
 I will not afk for greater ease, 
 
 Left I fhould love Thee less. 
 O, 't is a blefled thing for me 
 
 To need Thy tenderness. 
 
 While many sympathizing hearts 
 
 For my deliverance care, 
 Thou, in Thy wiser, ftronger love. 
 
 Art teaching me to bear, — 
 By the secret voice of thankful so 
 
 And calm, confiding prayer. 
 
 Thy love has many a lighted path 
 
 No outward eye can trace. 
 And my heart sees Thee in the deep 
 
 With darkness on its face. 
 And communes with Thee, 'mid the ftorm. 
 
 As in a secret place. 
 
 O Comforter of God's redeemed, 
 Whom the world does not see. 
 
 What hand fhould pluck me from the flood 
 That cafts my soul on Thee ? 
 
 Who would not suffer pain like mine, 
 To be consoled like me ? 
 
 When I am feeble as a child. 
 
 And flefh and heart give way. 
 Then on Thy everlafting ftrength 
 
 With paflive truft I ftay. 
 
208 
 
 Love. 
 
 And the rough wind becomes a song, 
 The darkness fhines like day. 
 
 0 blefled are the eyes that see, 
 Though filent anguifh fhow 
 
 The love that in their hours of fleep 
 Unthanked may come and go, 
 
 And blefled are the ears that hear, 
 Though kept awake by woe. 
 
 Happy are they that learn, in Thee, 
 Though patient suffering teach. 
 
 The secret of enduring flrength. 
 And praise too deep for speech, — 
 
 Peace that no prefllire from without. 
 No fl:rife within, can reach. 
 
 There is no death for me to fear. 
 For Chrift, my Lord, hath died ; 
 
 There is no curse in this my pain. 
 For he was crucified ; 
 
 And it is fellowjhip with him 
 That keeps me near his fide. 
 
 My heart is fixed, O God, my flrrength, 
 My heart is fl:rong to bear ; 
 
 1 will be joyful in Thy love, 
 And peaceful in Thy care. 
 
 Deal with me, for my Saviour's sake. 
 According to his prayer. 
 
Love, 
 
 209 
 
 No suffering while it lafts is joy, 
 
 How bleft soe'er it be, — 
 Yet may the chaftened child be glad 
 
 His Father's face to see ; 
 And O it is not hard to bear 
 
 What muft be borne in Thee. 
 
 It is not hard to bear by faith 
 
 In Thy own bosom laid 
 The trial of a soul redeemed, 
 
 For Thy rejoicing made. 
 Well may the heart in patience reft, 
 
 That none can make afraid. 
 
 Safe in Thy san6lifying grace, 
 
 Almighty to reftore, — 
 Borne onward, fin and death behind. 
 
 And love and life before, — 
 O let my soul abound in hope. 
 
 And praise Thee more and more ! 
 
 Deep unto deep may call, but I 
 
 With peaceful heart will say, — 
 Thy loving-kindness hath a charge 
 
 No waves can take away ; 
 And let the ftorm that speeds me home 
 
 Deal with me as it may. 
 
 Miss A. L. Waring, 
 
 14 
 
210 
 
 Love. 
 
 LOVE TO MY LORD. 
 
 "Let us lift up our heart with our hands unto God in the heavens." — 
 Lam. iii. 41. 
 
 " T T AD I a thousand hearts, I 'd raise 
 1 1 Them all in my Redeemer's praise," 
 
 We sometimes cry ; 
 And ftill we find it hard to give 
 Our one poor offering, and live 
 
 As He were by ! 
 
 O pureft, trueft, boundless love ! 
 Worthy of Him who reigns above, — 
 
 Our heavenly guide ! 
 He takes the heart we fain would give, 
 He deigns in it himself to live, 
 
 With us to 'bide. 
 
 Tune, Lord, this heart as 'twere a lyre 
 Of heavenly make, till every wire 
 
 And every chord 
 Wake but one ftrain, — one deepeft thrill, 
 Long, louder, sweeter, fuller ftill, — 
 
 Love to my Lord ! 
 
 From Louisa von Plettenhaus. 
 
Love, 
 
 211 
 
 HAD I the tongues of Greeks and Jews, 
 And nobler speech than angels use, 
 If love be absent, I am found. 
 Like tinkling brass, an empty sound. 
 
 Were I inspired to preach and tell 
 All that is done in heaven and hell, — 
 Or could my faith the world remove, — 
 Still I am nothing without love. 
 
 Should I diftribute all my ftore 
 
 To feed the hungry, clothe the poor, — 
 
 Or give my body to the flame, 
 
 To gain a martyr's glorious name, — 
 
 If love to God and love to men 
 Be absent, all my hopes are vain ; 
 Nor tongues, nor gifts, nor fiery zeal. 
 The work of love can e'er fulfil. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 
 
212 
 
 Love. 
 
 THE LOVE OF GOD. 
 
 MY God ! Thv boundless love I praise ; 
 How bright on high its glories blaze ! 
 How sweetly bloom below ! 
 It ftreams from Thine eternal throne ; 
 Through heaven its joys forever run, 
 And o'er the earth they flow. 
 
 'T is love that paints the purple morn, 
 And bids the clouds, in air upborne. 
 
 Their genial drops diflil ; 
 In every vernal beam it glows. 
 And breathes in every gale that blows. 
 
 And glides in every rill. 
 
 But in Thy word I see it (bine 
 With grace and glories more divine, 
 
 Proclaiming fins forgiven ; 
 There, Faith, bright cherub, points the way 
 To realms of everlafling day. 
 
 And opens all her heaven. 
 
 Then let the love, that makes me bleft, 
 With cheerful praise inspire my breafi:. 
 And ardent gratitude ; 
 
Love. 
 
 213 
 
 And all my thoughts and paflions tend 
 To Thee, my Father and my Friend, 
 My soul's eternal good. 
 
 Henry Moore. 1806. 
 
 GOD OUR SHEPHERD. 
 
 THE Lord my pafture fhall prepare, 
 And feed me with a (hepherd's care ; 
 His presence (hall my wants supply. 
 And guard me with a watchful eye : 
 My noonday walks He fhall attend. 
 And all my midnight hours defend. 
 
 When in the sultry glebe I faint, 
 Or on the thirfty mountain pant, 
 To fertile vales and dewy meads 
 My weary, wandering fteps He leads, 
 Where peaceful rivers, soft and flow, 
 Amid the verdant landscape flow. 
 
 Though in a bare and rugged way. 
 Through devious, lonely wilds I ftray. 
 Thy bounty fhall my pains beguile ; 
 The barren wilderness fhall smile, 
 With sudden greens and herbage crowned. 
 And flreams fhall murmur all around. 
 
214 
 
 Love. 
 
 Though in the paths of death I tread, 
 With gloomy horrors overspread, 
 My fteadfaft heart (hall fear no ill. 
 For Thou, O Lord ! art with me ftill ; 
 Thy friendly crook fhall give me aid. 
 And guide me through the dreadful fhade. 
 
 Joseph Addison. 1728. 
 
 SOWING AND REAPING. 
 They that sow in tears fhall reap in joy." — Psalm cxxvi. 5. 
 
 SOW with a generous hand ; 
 Pause not for toil or pain ; 
 Weary not through the heat of summer. 
 
 Weary not through the cold spring rain ; 
 But wait till the autumn comes. 
 For the (heaves of golden grain. 
 
 Scatter the seed, and fear not, — 
 
 A table will be spread ; 
 What matter if you are too weary 
 
 To eat your hard-earned bread ? 
 Sow while the earth is broken, 
 
 For the hungry muft be fed. 
 
 Sow ; — while the seeds are lying 
 In the warm earth's bosom deep. 
 
Love, 
 
 215 
 
 And your warm tears fall upon it, 
 They will ftir in their quiet fleep, 
 
 And the green blades rise the quicker, 
 Perchance, for the tears you weep. 
 
 Then sow, — for the hours are fleeting. 
 And the seed muft fall to-day. 
 
 And care not what hands fhall reap it, 
 Or if you fhall have pafled away 
 
 Before the waving cornfields 
 Shall gladden the sunny day. 
 
 Sow, — and look onward, upward. 
 Where the ftarry light appears, 
 
 Where, in spite of the coward's doubting. 
 Or your own heart's trembling fears. 
 
 You fhall reap in joy the harveft 
 You have sown to-day in tears. 
 
 Miss A. A, Procter, 
 
 A DESIRE. 
 
 OTO have dwelt in Bethlehem 
 When the ftar of the Lord fhone bright ! 
 To have fheltered the holy wanderers 
 On that blelTed Chriftmas night ! 
 
2l6 Love. 
 
 To have kifled the tender, way-worn feet 
 
 Of the Mother undefiled, 
 And, with reverent wonder and deep delight, 
 
 To have tended the Holy Child! 
 
 Hufh ! such a glory was not for thee ; 
 
 But that care may ftill be thine ; 
 For are there not little ones ftill to aid 
 
 For the sake of the Child divine ? 
 Are there no wandering pilgrims now, 
 
 To thy heart and thy home to take ? 
 And are there no mothers whose weary hearts 
 
 You can comfort for Mary's sake ? 
 
 O to have knelt at Jesus* feet. 
 
 And to have learnt His heavenly lore ! 
 To have liftened the gentle leffbns He taught 
 
 On mountain and sea and fhore ! 
 While the rich and the mighty knew Him not, 
 
 To have meekly done His will! — 
 Hufh! for the worldly reje6l Him yet, 
 
 You can serve and love Him ftill. 
 Time cannot filence His mighty words, 
 
 And though ages have fled away, 
 His gentle accents of love divine 
 
 Speak to your soul to-day. 
 
 O to have solaced that weeping one 
 Whom the righteous dared despise ! 
 
r 
 
 Love. 
 
 21'] 
 
 To have tenderly bound up her scattered hair, 
 
 And have dried her tearful eyes ! 
 Hufh ! there are broken hearts to soothe, 
 
 And penitent tears to dry. 
 While Magdalen prays for you and them, 
 
 From her home in the ftarry fky. 
 
 O to have followed the mournful way 
 
 Of those faithful few forlorn ! 
 And, grace beyond even an angel's hope, 
 
 The Cross for our Lord have borne ! 
 To have fhared in His tender mother's grief. 
 
 To have wept at Mary's fide. 
 To have lived as a child in her home, and then 
 
 In her loving care have died ! 
 
 Hufh ! and with reverent sorrow ftill 
 
 Mary's great anguifh (hare ; 
 And learn, for the sake of her Son divine. 
 
 Thy cross, like His, to bear. 
 The sorrows that weigh on thy soul unite 
 
 With those which thy Lord has borne. 
 And Mary will comfort thy dying hour. 
 
 Nor leave thy soul forlorn. 
 
 O to have seen what we now adore. 
 And, though veiled to faithless fight, 
 
 To have known, in the form that Jesus wore. 
 The Lord of Life and Light ! 
 
2l8 
 
 Love. 
 
 Hufh ! for He dwells among us ftill, 
 
 And a grace can yet be thine, 
 Which the scoffer and doubter can never know, 
 
 The Presence of the Divine. 
 Jesus is with His children yet. 
 
 For His word can never deceive ; 
 Go where His lowly altars rise. 
 
 And worfhip, and believe. 
 
 Miss A. A, Proper, 1859. 
 
 THE STRANGER. 
 
 A POOR wayfaring Man of grief 
 Hath often croffed me on my way, 
 Who sued so humbly for relief. 
 
 That I could never answer. Nay. 
 I had not power to afk his name. 
 Whither he went, or whence he came. 
 Yet there was something in his eye 
 That won my love, I knew not why. 
 
 Once, when my scanty meal was spread, 
 He entered, — not a word he spake, — 
 
 Juft perifhing for want of bread ; 
 
 I gave him all ; he blefled it, brake, 
 
Love, 219 
 
 And ate, — but gave me part again: 
 Mine was an angel's portion then \ 
 For while I fed with eager hafte, 
 That cruft was manna to my tafte. 
 
 I spied him, where a fountain burft 
 
 Clear from the rock; his ftrength was gone; 
 
 The heedless water mocked his thirft, 
 He heard it, saw it hurrying on : 
 
 I ran to raise the sufferer up ; 
 
 Thrice from the ftream he drained my cup, 
 
 Dipt, and returned it running o'er ; 
 
 I drank, and never thirfted more. 
 
 'T was night ; the floods were out ; it blew 
 
 A winter hurricane aloof ; 
 I heard his voice abroad, and flew 
 
 To bid him welcome to my roof , 
 I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my gueft, 
 Laid him on my own couch to reft ; 
 Then made the hearth my bed, and seemed 
 In Eden's garden while I dreamed. 
 
 Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death, 
 
 I found him by the highway-fide ; 
 I roused his pulse, brought back his breath, 
 
 Revived his spirit, and supplied 
 Wine, oil, refrefhment ; he was healed : 
 I had myself a wound concealed ; 
 
220 
 
 Love. 
 
 But from that hour forgot the smart, 
 And peace bound up my broken heart 
 
 In prison I saw him next, condemned 
 To meet a traitor's death at morn ; 
 
 The tide of lying tongues I ftemmed, 
 
 And honored him 'midft (hame and scorn ; 
 
 My friendfhip's utmoft zeal to try, 
 
 He alked if I for him would die ? 
 
 The flefh was weak, my blood ran chill, 
 
 But the free spirit cried, I will." 
 
 Then in a moment to my view 
 
 The Stranger darted from disguise ; 
 
 The tokens in his hands I knew. 
 My Saviour ftood before mine eyes ! 
 
 He spake ; and my poor name he named : 
 
 "Of me thou haft not been afhamed ; 
 
 These deeds (hall thy memorial be ; 
 
 Fear not, thou didft them unto me." 
 
 James Montgomery. 1826. 
 
QJUIET. 
 
 THE INNER CALM 
 
 CALM me, my God, and keep me caln 
 While these hot breezes blow ; 
 Be like the night-dew's cooling balm 
 Upon earth's fevered brow. 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 
 
 Soft refting on thy breaft ; 
 Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm, 
 
 And bid my spirit reft. 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm ; 
 
 Let thine outftretched wing 
 Be like the (hade of Elim's palm 
 
 Befide her desert spring. 
 
 Yes, keep me calm, though loud and rude 
 The sounds my ear that greet. 
 
 Calm in the closet's solitude. 
 Calm in the buftling ftreet ; 
 
222 ^iet. 
 
 Calm in the hour of buoyant health, 
 
 Calm in my hour of pain, 
 Calm in my poverty or wealth. 
 
 Calm in my loss or gain ; 
 
 Calm in the sufferance of wrong. 
 
 Like Him who bore my fhame. 
 Calm 'mid the threatening, taunting throng, 
 
 Who hate Thy holy name ; 
 
 Calm when the great world's news with power 
 
 My liftening spirit ftir ; 
 Let not the tidings of the hour 
 
 E'er find too fond an ear; 
 
 Calm as the ray of sun or flar 
 
 Which ftorms aflail in vain. 
 Moving unruffled through earth's war. 
 
 The eternal calm to gain. 
 
 H, Bonar. 1856. 
 
 BE STILL, AND KNOW THAT I AM GOD. 
 
 HE who himself and God would know. 
 Into the filence let him go. 
 And, lifting off pall after pall. 
 Reach to the inmoft depth of all. 
 
223 
 
 Let him look forth into the night ; 
 What solemn depths, what filent might ! 
 Those ancient ftars, how calm they roll, — 
 He but an atom 'mid the whole ! 
 
 And, as the evening wind sweeps by, 
 He needs muft feel his God as nigh ; 
 Muft needs that unseen Presence own, 
 Thus always near, too long unknown. 
 
 How small, in that uplifted hour. 
 Temptation's lure and paflion's power ! 
 How weak the foe that made him fall. 
 How ftrong the soul to conquer all ! 
 
 A mighty mind of nobler will 
 
 Sends through his soul its quickening thrill ; 
 
 No more a creature of the clod. 
 
 He knows himself a child of God. 
 
 Marline au. 
 
 HATH not thy heart within thee burned 
 At evening's calm and holy hour, 
 As if its inmoft depths discerned 
 The presence of a loftier power ? 
 
Haft thou not heard 'mid foreft glades, 
 While ancient rivers murmured by, 
 
 A voice from forth th' eternal fhades. 
 That spake a present Deity ? 
 
 And as upon the sacred page 
 
 Thine eye in rapt attention turned 
 
 O'er records of a holier age. 
 
 Hath not thy heart within thee burned ? 
 
 It was the voice of God that spake 
 
 In filence to thy filent heart. 
 And bade each worthier thought awake. 
 
 And every dream of earth depart. 
 
 Voice of our God, O yet be near! 
 
 In low, sweet accents whisper peace ; 
 Direct us on our pathway here. 
 
 Then bid in heaven our wanderings cease. 
 
 Bulfinch. 
 
 I 
 
 224 
 
 FOR INWARD PEACE. 
 
 OFOR a heart of calm repose 
 Amid the world's loud roar, 
 A life that like a river flows 
 Along a peaceful fhore ! 
 
Come, Holy Spirit, ftill my heart 
 
 With gentleness divine ; 
 Indwelling peace Thou canft impart, 
 
 O make that bleffing mine ! 
 
 Above these scenes of ftorm and ftrife 
 There spreads a region fair ; 
 
 Give me to live that higher life, 
 And breathe that heavenly air! 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit, breathe that peace ! 
 
 That victory make me win ! 
 Then fhall my soul her conflict cease. 
 
 And find a heaven within. 
 
 225 
 
 OPEN, Lord, my inward ear. 
 And bid my heart rejoice ; 
 Bid my quiet spirit hear 
 
 The comfort of thy voice ; 
 Never in the whirlwind found. 
 Or where earthquakes rock the place. 
 Still and filent is the sound. 
 The whisper of thy grace. 
 
 From the world of fin and noise 
 And hurry I withdraw ; 
 
For the small and inward voice 
 
 I wait with humble awe ; 
 Silent I am now and ftill, 
 Dare not in thy presence move ; 
 To my waiting soul reveal 
 
 The secret of thy love. 
 
 Meth. Coll. 
 
 LET deepeft filence all around 
 Its peaceful fhelter spread ; 
 So fhall the living word abound, 
 The word that wakes the dead. 
 
 How sweet to wait upon the Lord 
 
 In ftillness and in prayer ! 
 What though no preacher speak the word, 
 
 A minifter is there. 
 
 He knows to bend the heart of fteel. 
 
 He bows the loftieft soul ; 
 O'er all we think and all we feel 
 
 How matchless his control ! 
 
 And O how precious is his love 
 
 In tender mercy given! 
 It whispers of the bleft above, 
 
 And ftays the soul on heaven. 
 
From mind to mind, in ftreams of joy, 
 
 The holy influence spreads ; 
 'T is peace, 't is praise without alloy. 
 
 For God that influence (beds. 
 
 To Thee, O God, we ftill will pray, 
 
 And praise Thee as before ; 
 For this thy glorious Gospel-day 
 
 Teach us to praise Thee more. 
 
 J. J. Gurney. 
 
 THOU hidden Source of calm repose, 
 Thou all-suflicient Love divine. 
 My Help and Refuge from my foes, 
 
 Secure I am if thou art mine. 
 And, lo ! from fin and grief and fhame 
 I hide me. Father, in thy name. 
 
 Thy mighty name salvation is, 
 
 And keeps my happy soul above ; 
 
 Comfort it brings, and power and peace. 
 
 And joy and everlafting love : 
 . To me, through thy dear Son, are given 
 
 Pardon and holiness and heaven. 
 
228 ^iet. 
 
 P'ather, my all in all thou art, 
 
 My reft in toil, my ease in pain ; 
 
 The balm to heal my broken heart ; 
 In ftorms my peace, in loss my gain ; 
 
 My joy beneath the worldling's frown ; 
 
 In fhame, my glory and my crown ; — 
 
 In want, my plentiful supply ; 
 
 In weakness, my almighty power ; 
 In bonds, my perfe6l liberty ; 
 
 My refuge in temptation's hour ; 
 My comfort 'midft all grief and pain. 
 My life in death, my endless gain. 
 
 C, Wejley. 1739- 1762. 
 
 THE child leans on its parent's breaft, 
 Leaves there its cares, and is at reft ; 
 The bird fits fmging by his neft. 
 
 And tells aloud 
 His truft in God, and so is bleft 
 'Neath every cloud. 
 
 He has no ftore, he sows no seed ; 
 Yet fmgs aloud, and doth not heed ; 
 
^iet. 229 
 
 By flowing ftream or graffy mead, 
 
 He fings to (hame 
 Men, who forget, in fear of need, 
 
 A Father's name. 
 
 The heart that trufts forever fings, 
 And feels as hght as it had wings ; 
 A well of peace within it springs : 
 
 Come good or ill, 
 Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings, 
 
 It is His will 1 
 
 Isaac Williams. 1842. 
 
 PSALM CXXXI. 
 
 QUIET, Lord, my froward heart ; 
 Make me teachable and mild, 
 Upright, fimple, free from art ; 
 
 Make me as a weaned child ; 
 From diftruft and envy free, 
 Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 
 
 What thou (halt to-day provide. 
 Let me as a child receive ; 
 
 What to-morrow may betide. 
 Calmly to thy wisdom leave ; 
 
230 ^'let. 
 
 'T is enough that Thou wilt care. 
 Why fhould I the burden bear ? 
 
 As a little child relies 
 
 On a care beyond his own, 
 Knows he 's neither ftrong nor wise. 
 
 Fears to ftir a ftep alone ; — 
 Let me thus with Thee abide. 
 As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 
 
 'John Newton, 1779. 
 
 O HAPPY soul that lives on high, 
 While men lie grovelling here ! 
 His hopes are fixed above the (ky. 
 And faith forbids his fear. 
 
 His conscience knows no secret ftings. 
 While grace and joy combine 
 
 To form a life whose holy springs 
 Are hidden and divine. 
 
 He waits in secret on his God, 
 
 His God in secret sees ; 
 Let earth be all in arms abroad. 
 
 He dwells in heavenly peace. 
 
^iet, 231 
 
 His pleasures rise from things unseen, 
 
 Beyond this world and time, 
 Where neither eyes nor ears have been, 
 
 Nor thoughts of mortals climb. 
 
 He wants no pomp nor royal throne 
 
 To raise his honors here ; 
 Content and pleased to live unknown. 
 
 Till Chrift his hfe appear. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1674 -1748. 
 
 HIDING IN GOD. 
 Psalm xxxi. 20. 
 
 NOT from the work appointed us to do 
 Our Maker hides us ; 
 Not from the suffering of mortal woe, 
 That oft betides us : 
 
 But whoso treadeth where the Saviour trod, 
 
 Where duty guideth. 
 Fearful of nothing but the power of God, 
 
 His Maker hideth. 
 
232 ^iet. 
 
 He walks amid the furnace-fires alone, 
 
 Yet well attended ; 
 f'or lo ! there Hands befide him God's own S 
 
 To earth descended. 
 
 Thousands and tens of thousands smitten lie 
 Breathless around him ; 
 
 Safe in the secret place of the Moft High, 
 Death hath not found him. 
 
 Quiet in God, — the ever-present seal 
 
 Of faith unspoken, — 
 Believing faces, infant lips, reveal 
 
 Its nameless token ; 
 
 A gift beftowed upon the poor opprefTed, 
 
 To kings forbidden ; 
 Beneath the fhadow of Thy wings to reft. 
 
 Securely hidden. 
 
 To bear for them the cross, as if for Thee, 
 
 Strengthen me ever ; 
 Among Thine hidden ones, O number me. 
 
 Now and forever ! 
 
233 
 
 "O LORD! HOW HAPPY IS THE TIME." 
 
 OLORD ! how happy is the time 
 When in Thy love I reft, — 
 When from my weariness I climb 
 
 E'en to Thy tender breaft. 
 The night of sorrow endeth there, 
 
 Thy rays outfhine the sun, 
 And in Thy pardon and Thy care 
 The heaven of heavens is won. 
 
 Let the world call itself my foe. 
 
 Or let the world allure, 
 I care not for the world, — I go 
 
 To this tried friend and sure. 
 And when life's fierceft ftorms are sent 
 
 Upon life's wildeft sea. 
 My little bark is confident 
 
 Because it holds by Thee. 
 
 When the law threatens endless death 
 
 Upon the dreadful hill. 
 Straightway from its consuming breath 
 
 My soul mounts higher ftill. 
 She haftes to Jesus, wounded, llain. 
 
 And finds in Him a home. 
 
234 ^iet. 
 
 Whence fhe fhall not go forth again, 
 And where no death can come. 
 
 I do not fear the wilderness 
 
 Where Thou haft been before ; — 
 Nay, rather would I daily press 
 
 After Thee, near Thee, more ! 
 Thou art my ftrength ; on Thee I lean ; 
 
 My heart Thou makeft fing ; 
 And to Thy paftures green at length 
 
 Thy chosen flock wilt bring. 
 
 And if the gate that opens there 
 
 Is closed to other men. 
 Is it not closed to those who lhare 
 
 The heart of Jesus then ? 
 That is not lofing much of life 
 
 Which is not lofing Thee, 
 Who art as present in the ftrife 
 
 As in the victory ! 
 
 Therefore, how happy is the time 
 
 When in Thy love I reft; 
 When from my weariness I climb 
 
 E'en to Thy tender breaft. 
 The night of sorrow endeth there, 
 
 Thy rays outfhine the sun, 
 And in Thy pardon and Thy care 
 
 The heaven of heavens is won. 
 
 From the German of DreJIer. 
 

 235 
 
 TRUST. 
 
 
 T KNOW not if or dark or bright 
 X Shall be my lot ; 
 It that wherem my hopes delight 
 Be beft, or not. 
 
 
 It may be mine to drag for years 
 Toil's heavy chain ; 
 
 Or day and night my meat be tears 
 On bed of pain. 
 
 
 Dear faces may surround my hearth 
 With smiles and glee ; 
 
 /~\ T Jill J '^L 
 
 Ur 1 may dwell alone, and mirth 
 Be ftrange to me. 
 
 
 My bark is wafted to the ftrand 
 By breath divine ; 
 
 Ai 111.1 n 11 
 
 And on the helm there relts a hand 
 Other than mine. 
 
 
 One who has known in ftorms to sail 
 
 I have on board ; 
 Above the raving of the gale^ 
 
 I hear my Lord. 
 
 
236 ^iet. 
 
 He holds me when the billows smite, — 
 
 I (hall not fall. 
 If fharp, 'tis fhort, — if long, 'tis light, — 
 
 He tempers all. 
 
 Safe to the land, safe to the land, — 
 
 The end is this ; 
 And then with Him go hand in hand 
 
 Far into bliss. 
 
 Dean of Canterbury. 
 
 REST IN THE LORD. 
 
 MY God, in Thee all fulness lies, 
 All want in me from Thee apart ; 
 In Thee my soul hath endless joys. 
 
 In me is but an aching heart ; 
 Poor as the pooreft here I pine. 
 In Thee a heavenly kingdom 's mine. 
 
 Thou seeft whatsoe'er I need. 
 Thou seeft it, and pitieft me ; 
 
 Thy swift compaflions hither speed. 
 Ere yet my woes are told to Thee ; 
 
 Thou heareft. Father, ere we cry, — 
 
 Shall I not ftill before Thee lie ? 
 
^iet. 
 
 I leave to Thee whate'er is mine, 
 And in Thy will I calmly reft ; 
 
 I know that richeft gifts are Thine, 
 
 Thou canft and Thou wilt make me bleft, 
 
 For Thou haft promised, and our Lord 
 
 Will never break His promised word. 
 
 Thou loveft me. Father, with the love 
 Wherewith Thou lovedft Chrift thy Son, 
 
 And so a brightness from above 
 
 Still glads me, though my tears may run ; 
 
 For in Thy love I find and know 
 
 What all the world could ne'er beftow. 
 
 Then I can let the world go by, 
 And yet be ftill and reft in Thee ; 
 
 I fit, I walk, I ftand, I lie. 
 Thou ever watcheft over me. 
 
 And when the yoke is prefling sore, 
 
 I think, my God lives evermore ! 
 
 THE world can neither give nor take. 
 Nor can they comprehend. 
 The peace of God, which Chrift has bought. 
 The peace which knows no end. 
 
 Lyra German'ica. 
 
 DISCIPLINE. 
 
238 ^iet. 
 
 The burning bufti was not consumed 
 
 While God remained there ; 
 The three, when Jesus made the fourth, 
 
 Found fire as soft as air. 
 
 God's furnace doth in Zion fland ; 
 
 But Zion's God fits by, 
 As the refiner views his gold, 
 
 With an observant eye. 
 
 His thoughts are high. His love is wise, 
 
 His wounds a cure intend; 
 And, though He does not always smile. 
 He loves unto the end. 
 
 Cento by Selina^ Countess of Huntingdon. 1780. 
 From John Mason. 1683. 
 
 RESTING IN GOD. 
 
 MY God prote6ts ; my fears begone ! 
 What can the Rock of Ages move? 
 Safe in thine arms I lay me down. 
 Thine everlafting arms of love. 
 
 While Thou art intimately nigh, 
 Who, who fhall violate my reft ? 
 
All powers of evil I defy ; 
 I lean upon my Father's breaft. 
 
 I reft beneath the Almighty's fhade, 
 My griefs expire, my troubles cease ; 
 Thou, Lord, on whom my soul is ftayed. 
 Wilt keep me ftill in perfeft peace. 
 
 Charles Wefiey. 1 7 39 - 1 7 6 2 . 
 
 239 
 
 " So that there was neither hammer nor axe, nor any tool of iron, heard 
 in the house while it was building." — I Kings vi. 7. 
 
 WHEN God upheaved the pillared earth. 
 Hung out the ftars, to light gave birth, 
 Opened its deeps, its carpet spread, 
 'T was filence all, as chaos fled. 
 
 When rose the fane on Zion's hill, 
 A work of matchless power and fkill. 
 No axe was heard, no hammer there ; 
 But all was ftill as summer air. 
 
 Thus laboring through life's working day. 
 In gold or marble, wood or clay. 
 Let Art, through us, its empire pure 
 By quiet toil and fkill secure. 
 
I 
 
 240 ^iet. 
 
 Thus air and flame fhall space o'ercome, 
 And bring the diftant near to home ; 
 While thought in channels new fhall flow, 
 And round the world in filence go. 
 
 Great God ! thus let the temple rise 
 Whose altar-ftone within us lies, 
 Silent and calm, with fkill divine. 
 Till light immortal round it (hine. 
 
 Lewis G. Pray. 
 
 THE HEART'S PRAYER. 
 
 AS, down in the sunless retreats of the ocean. 
 Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see. 
 So, deep in my soul, the ftill prayer of devotion. 
 Unheard by the world, rises, filent, to Thee, 
 My God! filent, to Thee, — 
 Pure, warm, filent, to Thee. 
 
 As ftill to the ftar of its worfhip, though clouded. 
 
 The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, 
 So, dark when I roam, in this wintry world fhrouded, 
 The hope of my spirit turns, trembling, to Thee, 
 My God! trembling, to Thee, — 
 True, sure, trembling, to Thee. 
 
 r. Moore. 
 
241 
 
 PEACE, TROUBLED SOUL. 
 
 PEACE, troubled soul ! Thou needft not fear, 
 Thy great Prote61:or ftill is near ; 
 He who has fed will feed thee ftill ; 
 Be calm, and fink into His will ; 
 Who hears the ravens when they cry 
 Will all His children's needs supply. 
 
 Peace, doubting heart ! diftruft not God ; 
 Though dark the valley, fteep the way, 
 Still lean upon His ftafF and rod. 
 Still make His providence thy ftay : 
 A sudden calm thy soul fhall fill ; — 
 T is God who whispers. Peace, be ftill ! 
 
 SUMMER STUDIES. 
 
 WHY (houldft thou ftudy in the month of June 
 In duiky books of Greek and Hebrew lore. 
 When the Great Teacher of all glorious things 
 PalTes in hourly light before thy door? 
 
242 ^iet. 
 
 There is a brighter book unrolling now ; 
 
 Fair are its leaves as is the tree of heaven, 
 
 All veined, and dewed, and gemmed with wondrous fig 
 
 To which a healing, myftic power is given. 
 
 A thousand voices to its ftudy call. 
 From the fair hill-top, from the water-fall ; 
 Where the bird fingeth, and the yellow bee, 
 And the breeze talketh from the airy tree. 
 
 Now is that glorious resurre6lion time. 
 
 When all earth's buried beauties have new birth: 
 
 Behold the yearly miracle complete, — 
 
 God hath created a new heaven and earth ! 
 
 No tree that wants his joyful garments now. 
 No flower but haftes his bravery to don ; 
 God bids thee to this marriage-feaft of joy, 
 Let thy soul put the wedding garment on. 
 
 All fringed with feftal gold the barberry ftands. 
 The ferns exultant clap their new-made wings. 
 The hemlock ruftles broideries of frefh green, 
 And thousand bells of pearl the blueberry rings. 
 
 The long, light fingers of the old white pines 
 Do beckon thee into the flickering wood, 
 Where moving spots of light fhow myftic flowers, 
 And wavering mufic fills the dreamy hours. 
 
^ist. 243 
 
 Haft thou no time for all this wondrous (how, — 
 No thought to spare ? Wilt thou forever be 
 With thy laft year's dry flower-ftalk and dead leaves, 
 And no new (hoot or bloffom on thy tree ? 
 
 See how the pines pufh ofF their laft year's leaves, 
 And ftretch beyond them with exultant bound; 
 The grass and flowers with living power o'ergrow 
 Their laft year's remnants on the greening ground. 
 
 Wilt thou then all thy wintry feelings keep. 
 The old dead routine of thy book-writ lore. 
 Nor deem that God can teach by one bright hour 
 What life hath never taught to thee before ? 
 
 See what vaft leisure, what unbounded reft, 
 
 Lie in the bending dome of the blue Iky ; 
 
 Ah ! breathe that life-born languor from thy breaft. 
 
 And know once more a child's unreasoning joy. 
 
 Cease, cease to think^ and be content to he 
 Swing safe at anchor in fair Nature's bay ; 
 Reason no more, but o'er thy quiet soul 
 Let God's sweet teachings ripple their soft way. 
 
 Soar with the birds, and flutter with the leaf ; 
 Dance with the seeded grass in fringy play ; 
 Sail with the cloud ; wave with the dreaming pine. 
 And float with Nature all the livelong day. 
 
244 
 
 Call not such hours an idle wafte of life ; 
 Land that lies fallow gains a quiet power ; 
 It treasures from the brooding of God's wings 
 Strength to unfold the future tree and flower. 
 
 So fhall it be with thee, if reftful ftill 
 Thou rightly ftudieft in the summer hour ; 
 Like a deep fountain which a brook doth fill, 
 Thy mind in seeming reft fhall gather power. 
 
 And when the summer's glorious fhow is paft. 
 Its miracles no longer charm thy fight. 
 The treasured riches of these thoughtful hours 
 Shall make thy wintry mufings warm and bright. 
 
 Mrs. H. B. Stoive. \ 
 
OLD AGE. 
 
 ONLY WAITING. 
 
 A very aged Chriftian, who was so poor as to be in an almshouse, was 
 alked what he was doing now. He replied, " Only waiting." 
 
 ONLY waiting till the fhadows 
 Are a little longer grown ; 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's laft beam is flown ; 
 Till the night of earth is faded 
 
 From the heart once full of day ; 
 Till the ftars of heaven are breaking 
 Through the twilight soft and gray. 
 
 Only waiting till the reapers 
 
 Have the laft -ftieaf gathered home ; 
 For the summer-time is faded, 
 
 And the autumn winds have come. 
 Quickly, reapers, gather quickly 
 
 The laft ripe hours of my heart, 
 For the bloom of life is withered, 
 
 And I haften to depart. 
 
246 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 Only waiting till the angels 
 
 Open wide the myftic gate, 
 At whose foot I long have lingered, 
 
 Weary, poor, and desolate. 
 Even now I hear the footfteps. 
 
 And their voices, far away \ 
 If they call me, I am waiting. 
 
 Only waiting to obey. 
 
 Only waiting till the fhadows 
 
 Are a little longer grown ; 
 Only waiting till the glimmer 
 
 Of the day's laft beam is flown : 
 Then from out the gathered darkness 
 
 Holy, deathless ftars fhall rise, 
 By whose light my soul fhall gladly 
 
 Tread its pathway to the (kies. 
 
 THE BORDER LAND. 
 
 FATHER ! into Thy loving hands 
 My feeble spirit I commit. 
 While wandering in these border-lands 
 Until Thy voice {hall summon it. 
 
Old Age. 
 
 247 
 
 Father ! I would not dare to choose 
 A longer life, — an earlier death ; 
 
 I know not what my soul might lose 
 By fhortened or protracted breath. 
 
 These border lands are calm and ftill, 
 And solemn are their filent fhades ; 
 
 And my heart welcomes them until 
 The light of life's long evening fades. 
 
 I heard them spoken of with dread, 
 As fearful and unquiet places ; 
 
 Shades where the living and the dead 
 Look sadly in each other's faces. 
 
 But fince Thy hand hath led me here. 
 And I have seen the border land, — 
 
 Seen the dark river flowing near. 
 
 Stood on its brink as now I ftand, — 
 
 There has been nothing to alarm 
 
 My trembling soul ; how could I fear 
 
 While thus encircled with Thine arm ? 
 I never felt Thee half so near. 
 
 What fhould appall me in a place 
 
 That brings me hourly nearer Thee ? 
 
 Where I may almoft see Thy face, — 
 Surely 't is here my soul would be ! 
 
248 Old Age. 
 
 They say the waves are dark and deep, — 
 That faith has perifhed in the river ; 
 
 They speak of death with fear — and weep; 
 Shall my soul perifh ? never, never ! 
 
 I know that Thou wilt never leave 
 The soul that trembles while it clings 
 
 To Thee ; I know Thou wilt achieve 
 Its paffage on Thine outftretched wings. 
 
 I cannot see the golden gate 
 Unfolding yet to welcome me; 
 
 I cannot yet anticipate 
 
 The joy of heaven's jubilee. 
 
 But I will calmly watch and pray, 
 Until I hear my Saviour's voice 
 
 Calling my happy soul away 
 To see His glory, and rejoice. 
 
 THE TABERNACLE. 
 
 HOW meanly dwells the immortal mind ! 
 How vile these bodies are ! 
 Why was a clod of earth defigned 
 To enclose a heavenly ftar ? 
 
Old Age, 
 
 249 
 
 Weak cottage where our souls refide ! 
 
 This flefh a tottering wall, 
 With frightful breaches gaping wide, 
 
 The building bends to fall. 
 
 All round it ftorms of trouble blow, 
 
 And waves of sorrow roll ; 
 Cold winds and winter ftorms beat through, 
 
 And pain the tenant soul. 
 
 " Alas ! how frail our state ! " said I, 
 
 And thus went murmuring on, 
 Till sudden from the clearing Iky 
 
 A gleam of glory fhone. 
 
 My soul felt all the glory come, 
 
 And breathed her native air ; 
 Then fhe remembered heaven her home, 
 
 And (he a prisoner here. 
 
 Straight fhe began to change her key, 
 
 And, joyful in her pains. 
 She sung the frailty of her clay 
 
 In pleasurable ftrains. 
 
 How weak the prison where I dwell ! 
 
 Flefli but a tottering wall ; 
 These breaches cheerfully foretell 
 
 The house muft (hortly fall. 
 
250 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 No more, my friends, fhall I complain, 
 Though all my heart-ftrings ache ; 
 
 Welcome disease and every pain 
 That makes the cottage fhake ! 
 
 Now let the tempefl: blow around. 
 
 Now swell the surges high, 
 And beat the house of bondage down. 
 
 And let the ftranger fly ! 
 
 I have a manfion built above 
 
 By the Eternal Hand ; 
 And (hould the earth's old bafis move. 
 
 My heavenly house muft ftand. 
 
 Isaac Watts. 1674- 1748. 
 
 I AM old and blind! 
 Men point at me as smitten by God's frown ; 
 Afflided and deserted of my kind ; 
 Yet I am not caft down. 
 
 I am weak, vet ftrong ; 
 I murmur not that I no longer see ; 
 Poor, old, and helpless, I the more belong. 
 
 Father supreme ! to Thee. 
 
Old Age, 251 
 
 0 merciful One ! 
 
 When men are fartheft, then Thou art moft near ; 
 When friends pass by me, and my weakness (hun, 
 Thy chariot I hear. 
 
 Thy glorious face 
 Is leaning toward me ; and its holy light 
 Shines in upon my lonely dwelling-place, — 
 
 And there is no more night. 
 
 On my bended knee 
 I recognize thy purpose clearly fhown : 
 My vifion thou haft dimmed, that I may see 
 
 Thyself, — thyself alone. 
 
 1 have naught to fear ; 
 
 This darkness is the fhadow of thy wing ; 
 Beneath it I am almoft sacred ; here 
 Can come no evil thing. 
 
 O, I seem to ftand 
 Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been. 
 Wrapped in the radiance of thy finless land, 
 
 Which eye hath never seen. 
 
 Vifions come and go : 
 Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng ; 
 From angel lips I seem to hear the flow 
 
 Of soft and holy song. 
 
252 Old Age. 
 
 Is it nothing now, 
 When heaven is opening on my fightless eyes ? — 
 When airs from paradise refrefh my brow 
 
 The earth in darkness Hes. 
 
 In a purer clime 
 My being fills with rapture, — waves of thought 
 Roll in upon my spirit, — ftrains sublime 
 
 Break over me unsought. 
 
 Give me now my lyre ! 
 I feel the ftirrings of a gift divine : 
 Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, 
 
 Lit by no (kill of mine. 
 
 Milton. 1608 -1674. 
 
 THE AGED BELIEVER. 
 
 WITH years opprefled, with sorrow worn, 
 Deje6ted, harafled, fick, forlorn. 
 To Thee, O God, I pray : 
 To Thee my withered hands arise, 
 To Thee I lift these failing eyes ; 
 O caft me not away ! 
 
Old Age. 
 
 253 
 
 Thy mercy heard my infant prayer, 
 Thy love with all a mother's care 
 
 Suftained my childifli days : 
 Thy goodness watched my ripening youth, 
 And formed my heart to love Thy truth. 
 
 And filled my lips with praise. 
 
 O Saviour, has Thy grace declined ? 
 Can years afFe6t the Eternal mind, 
 
 Or time its love decay ? 
 A thousand ages in Thy fight. 
 And all their long and weary flight 
 
 Is gone like yefterday. 
 
 Then, even in age and grief. Thy name 
 Shall ftill my languid heart inflame. 
 
 And bow my faltering knee ; 
 O yet this bosom feels the fire. 
 This trembling hand and drooping lyre 
 
 Have yet a (train for Thee. 
 
 Yes ! broken, tuneless, ftill, O Lord, 
 This voice, transported, fhall record 
 
 Thy goodness, tried so long ; 
 Till, finking flow with calm decay. 
 Its feeble murmurs melt away 
 
 Into a seraph's song. 
 
 Sir Robert Grant. 1839. 
 
254 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 GRAY HAIRS. 
 
 THESE hairs of age are meflengers, 
 Which bid me faft, repent, and pray ; 
 They be of death the harbingers, 
 
 That do prepare and dress the way ; 
 Wherefore I joy that you may see 
 Upon my head such hairs to be. 
 
 They be the Hnes that lead the length 
 How far mv race was for to run ; 
 
 They say my youth is fled with ftrength. 
 And how old age is well begun ; 
 
 The which I feel, and you may see 
 
 Such lines upon my head to be. 
 
 They be the firings of sober sound. 
 
 Whose mufic is harmonical ; 
 Their tunes declare a time from ground 
 
 I came, and how thereto I fhall ; 
 Wherefore I love that you may see 
 Upon my head such hairs to be. 
 
 God grant to those that white hairs have, 
 No worse them take than I have meant ; 
 
Old Age. 255 
 
 That after they be laid in grave, 
 
 Their souls may joy, their lives well spent ; 
 God grant, likewise, that you may see 
 Upon my head such hairs to be. 
 
 Lord Vaux. 1530. 
 
 WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN ? 
 
 WOULD you be young again ? 
 So would not I ; — 
 One tear to memory given, 
 
 Onward I '11 hie ; — 
 Life's dark wave forded o'er. 
 All but at reft on fhore. 
 Say, would you plunge once more. 
 With home so nigh ? 
 
 If you might, would you now 
 
 Retrace your way ? 
 Wander through ftormy wilds. 
 
 Faint and aftray ? 
 Night's gloomy watches fled. 
 Morning all beaming red, 
 Hope's smiles around us ftied, 
 
 Heavenward, away ! 
 
256 
 
 Old Age, 
 
 Where are those dear ones, 
 
 Our joy and deHght, 
 Dear and more dear^ though now 
 
 Hidden from fight ? 
 Where they rejoice to be, 
 
 There is the home for me \ 
 Fly, time, fly speedily. 
 
 Come, life and light ! 
 
 Written in her J 6th year by Caroline^ 
 Baroness of Nairn. 
 
 "COME UNTO ME." 
 
 COME unto me, when (hadows darkly gather, 
 When the sad heart is weary and diftreft, 
 Seeking for comfort from your Heavenly Father, 
 Come unto me, and I will give you reft ! 
 
 Ye who have mourned when the spring flowers were taken. 
 When the ripe fruit fell richly to the ground. 
 
 When the loved flept, in brighter homes to waken. 
 Where their pale brows with spirit-wreaths are crowned. 
 
 Large are the manfions in thy Father's dwelling. 
 Glad are the homes that sorrows never dim ; 
 
 Sweet are the harps in holy mufic swelling. 
 
 Soft are the tones which raise the heavenly hymn. 
 
Old Age, 257 
 
 There, like an Eden blofToming in gladness, 
 
 Bloom the fair flowers the earth too rudely prefled ; 
 
 Come unto me, all ye who droop in sadness, 
 Come unto me, and I will give you reft. 
 
 AWAKE, ye saints, and raise your eyes. 
 And raise your voices high ; 
 Awake, and praise that sovereign love 
 That fhows salvation nigh. 
 
 On all the wings of time it flies, 
 
 Each moment brings it near; 
 Then welcome each declining day, 
 
 Welcome each clofing year ! 
 
 Not many years their round fhall run. 
 
 Nor many mornings rise. 
 Ere all its glories ftand revealed 
 
 To our admiring eyes ! 
 
 Ye wheels of nature, speed your course ! 
 
 Ye mortal powers, decay ! 
 Faft as ye bring the night of death. 
 
 Ye bring eternal day ! 
 
 Philip Doddridge. 1755. 
 
 17 
 
258 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 YOUR harps, ye trembling saints, 
 Down from the willows take ; 
 Loud to the praise of Love divine 
 Bid every firing awake. 
 
 Though in a foreign land, 
 We are not far from home ; 
 And nearer to our house above 
 We every moment come. 
 
 His Grace will to the end 
 Stronger and brighter fhine ; 
 Nor present things, nor things to come, 
 Shall quench the spark divine. 
 
 Faftened within the veil, 
 Hope be your anchor ftrong; 
 His loving Spirit the sweet gale 
 That wafts you smooth along. 
 
 Or Ihould the surges rise. 
 And peace delay to come, 
 Bleft is the sorrow, kind the ftorm. 
 That drives us nearer home. 
 
Old Age, 
 
 259 
 
 ' The people of His choice 
 He will not caft away ; 
 Yet do not always here expert 
 On Tabor's mount to fta^. 
 
 When we in darkness walk, 
 Nor feel the heavenly flame, 
 Then is the time to truft our God, 
 And reft upon His name. 
 
 Soon ftiall our doubts and fears 
 Subfide at His control ; 
 His loving-kindness fhall break through 
 The midnight of the soul. 
 
 No wonder, when His love 
 Pervades your kindling breaft. 
 You wifli forever to retain 
 The heart-transporting Gueft. 
 
 Yet learn, in every ftate. 
 To make His will your own ; 
 And, when the joys of sense depart, 
 To walk by faith alone. 
 
 By anxious fear deprefTed, 
 When from the deep ye mourn, 
 " Lord, why so hafty to depart. 
 So tedious in return ? " 
 
26o 
 
 Old Age, 
 
 Still on His plighted Love 
 At all events rely ; 
 The very hidings of His face 
 Shall train thee up to joy. 
 
 Wait, till the fhadows flee ; 
 Wait thy appointed hour; 
 Wait, till the Bridegroom of thy soul 
 Reveal His Love with power. 
 
 The time of Love will come, 
 When thou fhalt clearly see, 
 Not only that He fhed His blood. 
 But that it flowed for thee ! 
 
 Tarry His leisure, then, 
 Although He seem to ftay ; 
 A moment's intercourse with Him 
 Thy grief will overpay. 
 
 Bbfl is the man, O God, 
 That ftays himself on Thee ! 
 Who wait for Thy salvation, Lord, 
 Shall Thy salvation see. 
 
 A. M. Toplady. 1772. 
 
Old Age, 
 
 261 
 
 SKIES are dark and winds arc moaning, 
 Leaves around us falling faft, 
 Autumn's saddening power is on us, 
 Bringing memories of the paft. 
 
 Days of joy, when friends were with us, 
 Friends of blood, and friends of time. 
 Days when thought grew great and glorious. 
 Days of hope almoft sublime. 
 
 Veil, in mercy veil the future ! 
 Let the present be our cross ; 
 Meekly may we bear it, waiting 
 Future ftrength for future loss. 
 
 When these bodies, worn and wafted. 
 Fall like leaves 'neath autumn's blight, 
 Take, O take our spirits upward 
 To the realms of heavenly light ! 
 
 Light, that 's born of our decay. 
 Light, that ne'er (hall wafte away. 
 Light, that ages fhall increase. 
 Light of Life, and endless Peace. 
 
 Mrs, S. A. Morewood, 1862. 
 
262 
 
 Old Age, 
 
 "He was in ail points tempted like as we are." — Heb. iv. 15. 
 
 WHEN gathering clouds around I view, 
 And days are dark, and friends are few. 
 On Him I lean, who not in vain 
 Experienced every human pain : 
 He sees my wants, allays my fears, 
 And counts and treasures up my tears. 
 
 If aught (hould tempt my soul to ftray 
 
 PVom heavenly wisdom's narrow way, 
 
 To fly the good I would pursue. 
 
 Or do the ill I would not do. 
 
 Still He who felt temptation's power 
 
 Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. 
 
 If wounded love my bosom swell. 
 Deceived by those I prized too well. 
 He fhall his pitying aid beftow 
 Who felt on earth severer woe ; 
 At once betrayed, denied, or fled. 
 By those who fliared his daily bread. 
 
 If vexing thoughts within me rise. 
 And sore dismayed my spirit dies. 
 Still He who once vouchsafed to bear 
 The fickening anguifli of despair 
 
Old Age. 
 
 263 
 
 Shall sweetly soothe, fhall gently dry, 
 The throbbing heart, the ftreaming eve. 
 
 When sorrowing o'er some ftone I bend, 
 Which covers what was once a friend, 
 And from his voice, his hand, his smile, 
 Divides me for a little while, — 
 Thou, Saviour, mark'ft the tears I fhed, 
 P^or Thou didft weep o'er Lazarus dead ! 
 
 And O, when I have safely part 
 Through every confli6l but the laft. 
 Still, ftill unchanging, watch befide 
 My dying bed, for thou haft died ; 
 Then point to realms of cloudless day, 
 And wipe the lateft tear away ! 
 
 Then come. Lord Jesus ! come with speed, 
 And help me in my hour of need ; 
 Then hide my fins, and let my faith 
 Be brave and conquer ev'n in death ; 
 Then let me, refting on Thy word. 
 Securely fleep in Thee, my Lord. 
 
 Sir Robert Grant, 1 839. 
 
264 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 THE DESIRED HAVEN. 
 
 LORD, the lights are gleaming from the diftant fbore, 
 Where no billows threaten, where no tempefts roar; 
 Long-beloved voices calling me I hear, — 
 O, how sweet their summons falls upon my ear ! 
 Here are foes and ftrangers, faithless hearts and cold ; 
 There is fond afFe6lion, fondly proved of old ! 
 Let me hafte to join them ; may it not be so ? 
 Loose the cable, let me go ! 
 
 Hark, the solemn answer ! hark, the promise sure ! 
 BlelTed are the servants who to the end endure ! 
 Yet a little longer hope and tarry on, — 
 Yet a little longer, weak and weary one ! 
 More to perfe6l patience, to grow in faith and love. 
 More my ftrength and wisdom and faithfulness to prove; 
 Then the sailing-orders the Captain fhall beftow, — 
 Loose the cable, let thee go ! 
 
 Hymns of the Church Militant. 
 
Old Age. 
 
 265 
 
 WHEN in the vale of lengthened years 
 iMy feeble feet (hall tread, 
 And I survey the various scenes 
 
 Through v^^hich I have been led, — 
 
 How many mercies will my life 
 
 Before my view unfold ! 
 What countless dangers will be pafled, 
 
 What tales of sorrow told ! 
 
 But yet, my soul, if thou canft say, 
 
 I 've seen my God in all. 
 In every blefling owned his hand. 
 
 In every loss his call ; — 
 
 If piety has marked my fteps. 
 
 And love my actions formed. 
 And purity poffefTed my heart. 
 
 And truth my lips adorned ; — 
 
 If I an aged servant am 
 
 Of Jesus and of God, 
 I need not fear the clofing scene. 
 
 Nor dread th' appointed road. 
 
266 Old Age. 
 
 This scene will all my labors end, 
 This road conduct on high; 
 
 With comfort I '11 review the paft. 
 And triumph though I die. 
 
 THE DAWN. 
 
 THESE years of life, — what do they seem? 
 A little dream 
 Of pain and pleasure blent together, — 
 A time of fharply changing weather \ 
 When brilliant sunbeams gleam and die 
 On heavy ftorm-clouds sailing by, — 
 
 Where falling tears 
 Are bright with hope, and cold with fears. 
 
 The years, the clouds, have had their course, — 
 
 Their mingled force 
 Has bowed my heart and bent mv head, — 
 Sunfliine and ftorm alike are fled. 
 And in their place a heavy gray 
 Dulls all the tinting of the day. 
 
 Shall growing light 
 Follow the gray ? — or deepening night ? 
 
Old Age. 
 
 267 
 
 What ftiall the future progress be 
 
 Of hfe with me ? 
 God knows, — • I roll on Him my care, — 
 Night is not night if He be there. 
 When daylight is no longer mine. 
 And ftars forbidden are to fhine, 
 
 I '11 turn my eyes 
 To where eternal day fhall rise. 
 
 That coming light no mortal cloud 
 
 Can quite enfhroud ! 
 Through all our doubts, — above the range 
 Of every fear, and every change, — 
 My faith can see, with weary eye. 
 The dawn of heaven on earth's dim fky ; 
 
 And from afar 
 Shines on my soul the morning ftar. 
 
 Hymns of the Church Militant. 
 
 GOD of my childhood and my youth, 
 The Guide of all my days, 
 I have declared thy heavenly truth. 
 And told thy wondrous ways. 
 
268 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 Wilt thou forsake my hoary hairs, 
 
 And leave my fainting heart ? 
 Who fhall suftain my finking years, 
 
 If God, my ftrength, depart? 
 
 Let me thy power and truth proclaim 
 
 Before the rifing age. 
 And leave a savor of thy name 
 
 When I fhall quit the ftage. 
 
 The land of filence and of death 
 
 Attends my next remove ; 
 O may these poor remains of breath 
 
 Teach all the world thy love ! 
 
 Isaac W atts, 1674 - 1748. 
 
 WHEN life's tempeftuous ftorms are o'er, 
 How calm he meets the friendly (bore. 
 Who lived averse from fin ! 
 Such peace on virtue's paths attends. 
 That, where the finner's pleasure ends, 
 The Chriftian's joys begin. 
 
 See smiling patience smooth his brow ! 
 See bending angels downward bow. 
 To cheer his way on high ! 
 
Old Age, 
 
 269 
 
 While, eager for uhe bleft abode. 
 He joins with them to praise the God 
 Who taught him how to die. 
 
 No sorrow drowns his Hfted eyes ; 
 No horror wrefts the ftruggling fighs, 
 
 As from the Tinner's breaft ; 
 His God, the God of peace and love, 
 Pours kindly solace from above. 
 
 And soothes his soul to reft. 
 
 O grant, my Father and my Friend, 
 Such joys may gild my peaceful end, — 
 
 So calm my evening close ; 
 While, loosed from every earthly tie. 
 With fteady confidence I fly 
 
 To Thee from whom I rose. 
 
 W. Bojion Coll. 
 
 THE hour of my departure 's come ; 
 I hear the voice that calls me home : 
 Now, O my Lord, let trouble cease. 
 Now let thy servant die in peace. 
 
 The race appointed I have run ; 
 The combat 's o'er, the prize is won ; 
 And now my witness is on high. 
 And now my record 's in the fky. 
 
270 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 I leave the world without a tear, 
 Save for the friends I held so dear: 
 To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend, 
 And to the friendless prove a friend. 
 
 I come, I come ; at thy command, 
 I give my spirit to thy hand ; 
 Stretch forth thine everlalting arms. 
 And fhield me in the laft alarms. 
 
 The hour of my departure 's come ; 
 I hear the voice that calls me home : 
 Now, O my God, let trouble cease ; 
 Now let thy servant die in peace. 
 
 'John Logan. 1 770. 
 
 HOW bleft is he whose tranquil mind, 
 When life declines, recalls again 
 The years that time has caft behind. 
 And reaps delight from toil and pain. 
 
 So, when the tranfient ftorm is paft, 
 The sudden gloom and driving (hower. 
 
 The sweetefl: sunfhine is the laft ; 
 The lovelieft is the evening hour. 
 
Old Age. 
 
 271 
 
 THE RIVER PATH. 
 
 NO bird-song floated down the hill, 
 The tangled bank below was ftill ; 
 
 No ruftle from the birchen ftem, 
 
 No ripple from the water's hem. j 
 
 The dufk of twilight round us grew, j 
 We felt the falling of the dew ; 
 
 For, from us, ere the day was done. 
 The wooded hills fhut out the sun. 
 
 But on the river's farther fide 
 We saw the hill-tops glorified, — 
 
 . i 
 
 A tender glow, exceeding fair, 
 A dream of day without its glare. 
 
 With us the damp, the chill, the gloom : 
 With them the sunset's rosy bloom ; 
 
 While dark, through willowy viftas seen. 
 The river rolled in fhade between. 
 
 From out the darkness where we trod 
 We gazed upon those hills of God, 
 
 Whose light seemed not of moon or sun. 
 We spake not, but our thought was one. 
 
272 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 We paused, as if from that bright ftiore 
 Beckoned our dear ones gone before ; 
 
 And ftilled our beating hearts to hear 
 The voices loft to mortal ear ! 
 
 Sudden our pathway turned from night ; 
 The hills swung open to the light; 
 
 Through their green gates the sunfhine fhowed, 
 A long, flant splendor downward flowed. 
 
 Down glade and glen and bank it rolled ; 
 It bridged the (haded ftream with gold ; 
 
 And, borne on piers of mift, allied 
 The fhadowy with the sunlit fide ! 
 
 "So," prayed we, "when our feet draw near 
 The river, dark with mortal fear, 
 
 "And the night cometh chill with dew, 
 O Father ! let thy light break through ! 
 
 "So let the hills of doubt divide. 
 So bridge with faith the sunless tide ! 
 
 "So let the eyes that fail on earth 
 On thy eternal hills look forth ; 
 
 "And in thy beckoning angels know 
 The dear ones whom we loved below ! " 
 
 J. G. Wh'ittler. i860. 
 
r 
 
 Old Age. 
 
 273 
 
 "AT EVENING THERE SHALL BE LIGHT." 
 
 OUR pathway oft is wet with tears, 
 Our Iky with clouds o'ercaft, 
 And worldly cares and worldly fears 
 
 Go with us to the laft ; — 
 Not to the laft ! God's word hath said, 
 
 Could we but read aright : 
 O pilgrim! lift in hope thy head, 
 At eve it fhall be hght ! 
 
 Though earth-born fhadows now may fhroud 
 
 Our toilsome path awhile, 
 God's blefled word can part each cloud. 
 
 And bid the sunfhine smile. 
 If we but truft in living faith. 
 
 His love and power divine. 
 Then, though our sun may set in death. 
 
 His light (hall round us fhine. 
 
 When tempeft-clouds are dark on high, 
 
 His bow of love and peace 
 Shines beauteous in the vaulted fky, 
 
 A pledge that ftorms fhall cease. 
 18 
 
274 
 
 Old Age, 
 
 Then keep we on, with hope unchilled, 
 
 By faith and not by fight, 
 And we (hall own His word fulfilled, — 
 
 At eve it fhall be light ! 
 
 Bernard Barton, 
 
 GRACIOUS Source of every blefling ! 
 Guard our breads from anxious fears ; 
 Let us each, thy care poflefling. 
 Sink into the vale of years. 
 
 All our hopes on thee reclining. 
 
 Peace companion of our way, 
 May our sun, in smiles declining. 
 
 Rise in everlafting day. 
 
DEATH. 
 
 EVENING LIGHT. 
 
 BEHOLD the weftern evening light! 
 It melts in deepening gloom : 
 So calmly Chriftians fink away, 
 Descending to the tomb. 
 
 The winds breathe low ; the withering 1< 
 Scarce whispers from the tree : 
 
 So gently flows the parting breath, 
 When good men cease to be. 
 
 How beautiful on all the hills 
 
 The crimson light is fhed ! 
 'T is like the peace the Chriftian gives 
 
 To mourners round his bed. 
 
 How mildly on the wandering cloud 
 
 The sunset beam is caft ! 
 'T is like the memory left behind, 
 
 When loved ones breathe their laft. 
 
Death. 
 
 And now above the dews of night 
 
 The vesper-ftar appears : 
 So faith springs in the heart of those 
 
 Whose eyes are bathed in tears. 
 
 But soon the morning's happier light 
 
 Its glory (hall reftore, 
 And eyelids that are sealed in death 
 
 Shall wake to close no more. 
 
 W. B. O. Peabody. i 
 
 IN VIEW OF DEATH. 
 
 THE hour, the hour, the parting hour. 
 That takes from this dark world its power, 
 And lays at once the thorn and flower 
 
 On the same withering bier, my soul ! 
 The hour that ends all earthly woes, 
 And gives the wearied soul repose, — • 
 How soft, how sweet, that laft long close 
 Of mortal hope and fear, my soul ! 
 
 How sweet, while on this broken lyre 
 The melodies of time expire. 
 To feel it ftrung with chords of fire 
 To praise the Immortal One, my soul! 
 
Death. 
 
 277 
 
 And while our farewell tears we pour 
 To those we leave on this cold {hore, 
 To feel that we fhall weep no more, 
 Nor dwell in heaven alone, my soul ! 
 
 How sweet, while, waning faft away. 
 The ftars of this dim world decay, 
 To hail, prophetic of the day. 
 
 The golden dawn above, my soul ! 
 To feel we only fleep to rise 
 In sunnier lands and fairer fkies. 
 To bind again our broken ties 
 
 In ever-living love, my soul ! 
 
 The hour, the hour, so pure and calm, 
 That bathes the wounded soul in balm. 
 And round the pale brow twines the palm 
 
 That fliuns this wintry clime, my soul ! 
 The hour that draws o'er earth and all 
 Its briers and blooms the mortal pall, — 
 How soft, how sweet, that evening-fall 
 
 Of fears, and grief, and time, my soul ! 
 
278 
 
 Death. 
 
 TIME AND ETERNITY. 
 
 IT is not time that flies ; 
 'T is we, 't is we are flying : 
 It is not Life that dies ; 
 
 'T is we, 't is we are dying. 
 Time and eternity are one ; 
 Time is eternity begun : 
 Life changes, yet without decay ; 
 'T is we alone who pass away. 
 
 It is not Truth that flies ; 
 
 'T is we, 't is we are flying : 
 It is not Faith that dies ; 
 
 'T is we, 't is we are dying. 
 O ever-during faith and truth. 
 Whose youth is age, whose age is youth ! 
 Twin ftars of immortality, 
 Ye cannot perifh from our (ky. 
 
 It is not Hope that flies ; 
 
 'T is we, 't is we are flying : 
 It is not Love that dies ; 
 
 'T is we, 't is we are dying. 
 Twin ftreams, that have in heaven your birth, 
 Ye Aide in gentle joy through earth. 
 
Death. 
 
 279 
 
 We fade, like flowers befide you sown ; 
 Ye are ftill flowing, flowing on. 
 
 Yet we but die to live ; 
 
 It is from death we 're flying : 
 Forever lives our life ; 
 
 For us there is no dying. 
 We die but as the spring-bud dies. 
 In summer's golden glow to rise. 
 These be our days of April bloom ; 
 Our July is beyond the tomb. 
 
 H. Bonar. 1856. 
 
 ON THE THRESHOLD. 
 
 I'M. returning, not departing ; 
 My fteps are homeward bound. 
 I quit the land of ftrangers 
 For a home on native ground. 
 
 I am rifing, and not setting ; 
 
 This is not night, but day. 
 Not in darkness, but in sunfliine, 
 
 Like a ftar, I fade away. 
 
 All is well with me forever, 
 I do not fear to go. 
 
280 
 
 Death, 
 
 My tide is but beginning 
 Its bright eternal flow. 
 
 I am leaving only fhadows, 
 
 For the true and fair and good. 
 
 I muft not, cannot linger ; 
 I would not, though I could. 
 
 This is not death's dark portal, 
 
 'T is life's golden gate to me. 
 Link after link is broken, 
 
 And I at laft am free. 
 
 I am going to the angels, 
 
 I am going to my God ; 
 I know the hand that beckons, 
 
 I see the holy road. 
 
 Why grieve me with your weeping. 
 
 Your tears are all in vain ; 
 An hour's farewell, beloved. 
 
 And we fhall meet again. 
 
 Jesus, thou wilt receive me. 
 
 And welcome me above ; 
 This sunfhine which now fills me 
 
 Is thine own smile of love. 
 
 H. Bonar. 1856. 
 
Death. 
 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 THOU God of Love ! beneath thy (heltering wings 
 We leave our holy dead, 
 To reft in hope ! From this world's sufferings 
 Their souls have fled ! 
 
 O, when our souls are burdened with the weight 
 
 Of life, and all its woes, 
 Let us remember them, and calmly wait 
 
 For our life's close ! 
 
 Anon. 
 
 FRIEND after friend departs ; 
 Who hath not loft a friend ? 
 There is no union here of hearts 
 That finds not here an end : 
 Were this frail world our only reft, 
 Living or dying, none were bleft. 
 
 Beyond the flight of time. 
 Beyond this vale of death. 
 
 There surely is some blefled clime. 
 Where life is not a breath. 
 
282 
 
 Death. 
 
 Nor life's affe6lions tranfient fire, 
 Whose sparks fly upwards to expire. 
 
 There is a world above, 
 
 Where parting is unknown ; 
 A whole eternity of love, 
 P'ormed for the good alone : 
 And faith beholds the dying here 
 Tranflated to that happier sphere. 
 
 Thus ftar by ftar declines 
 
 Till we are palTed away, 
 As morning high and higher (hines 
 To pure and perfe6l day ; 
 Nor fink those ftars in empty night ; 
 They hide themselves in heaven's own light. 
 
 James Montgomery. 1824. 
 
 OUR SAINTS. 
 
 FROM the eternal fhadow rounding 
 All unsure and ftarlight here, 
 Voices of our loft ones sounding, 
 Bid us be of heart and cheer. 
 Through the filence, down the spaces, falling on the in- 
 ward ear. 
 
Death. 283 
 
 Know we not our dead are looking 
 
 Downward, as in sad surprise, 
 All our ftrife of words rebuking 
 With their mild and earneft eyes ? 
 Shall we grieve the holy angels, fhall we cloud their 
 bleffed Ikies ? 
 
 Let us draw their mantles o'er us, 
 Which have fallen in our way : 
 Let us do the work before us 
 Calmly, bravely, while we may, 
 Ere the long night-filence cometh, and with us it is not 
 day ! 
 
 J. G. Whittier. i860. 
 
 THE CLOUD ON THE WAY. 
 
 SEE, before us in our journey broods a mift upon the 
 ground \ 
 
 Thither leads the path we walk in, blending with that 
 
 gloomy bound. 
 Never eye hath pierced its fhadows to the myftery they 
 
 screen. 
 
 Those who once have pafled within it nevermore on 
 earth are seen. 
 
284 Death. 
 
 Now it seems to flop befide us, now at seeming distance 
 lowers, 
 
 Leaving banks that tempt us onward bright with sum- 
 mer green and flowers. 
 
 Yet it blots the way forever ; there our journey ends at 
 laft; 
 
 Into that dark cloud we enter, and are gathered to the 
 paft. 
 
 Thou who in this flinty pathway, leading through a 
 ftranger land, 
 
 Pafleft down the rocky valley, walking with me hand in 
 hand. 
 
 Which of us fhall be the sooneft folded to that dim 
 Unknown, 
 
 Which (hall leave the other walking in this flmty path 
 alone ? 
 
 Even now I see thee fhudder, and thy cheek is white 
 with fear. 
 
 And thou clingeft to my fide as that dark mift comes 
 
 sweeping near. 
 " Here," thou sayft, "the path is rugged, sown with 
 
 thorns that wound the feet ; 
 But the (heltered glens are lovely, and the rivulet's song 
 
 is sweet ; 
 
 Roses breathe from tangled thickets ; lilies bend from 
 ledges brown ; 
 
 Pleasantly between the pelting (bowers the sunfhine gufhes 
 down. 
 
 Far be yet the hour that takes me where that chilly 
 fhadow lies. 
 
Death. 
 
 285 
 
 PVom the things I know and love, and from the fight 
 
 of loving eyes." 
 So thou murmureft, fearful one, but see, we tread a 
 
 rougher way ; 
 
 Fainter grow the gleams of sunfhine that upon the dark 
 rocks play ; 
 
 Rude winds ftrew the faded flowers upon the crags o'er 
 
 which we pass ; 
 Banks of verdure, when we reach them, hiss with tufts 
 
 of withered grass. 
 Yet upon the mift before us fix thine eyes with closer 
 
 view ; 
 
 See, beneath its sullen fkirts, the rosy morning glimmers 
 through. 
 
 One, whose feet the thorns have wounded, entered and 
 came back, 
 
 With a glory on his footfteps lighting yet the dreary 
 track. 
 
 Boldly enter where he entered ; all that seems but dark- 
 ness here. 
 
 When thou once haft paft beyond it, haply fhall be 
 cryftal clear. 
 
 Seen from that serener realm, the walks of human life 
 may lie 
 
 Like the page of some familiar volume open to mine 
 eye. 
 
 Haply from the o'erhanging (hadow thou mayft ftretch 
 
 an unseen hand. 
 To support the wavering fteps that print with blood the 
 
 rugged land. 
 
286 Death. 
 
 Haply, leaning o'er the pilgrim all unweeting thou art 
 near. 
 
 Thou mayft whisper words of warning or of comfort in 
 his ear. 
 
 Till, beyond the border where that brooding myftery 
 bars the fight, 
 
 Those whom thou haft fondly cheriftied ftand with thee 
 in peace and light. 
 
 Wm, C. Bryant. i860. 
 
 OSPIRH^ freed from earth. 
 Rejoice thy work is done ! 
 The weary world 's beneath thy feet, 
 Thou brighter than the sun. 
 
 Arise, put on the robes 
 That the redeemed win ; 
 Now sorrow hath no part in thee, 
 Thou sanctified within ! 
 
 Awake, and breathe the air 
 Of the celeftial clime ! 
 Awake to love which knows no change, 
 Thou who haft done with time ! 
 
Death. 
 
 287 
 
 Awake, lift up thine eyes ! 
 See, all heaven's hoft appears ! 
 And be thou glad exceedingly, — 
 Thou who haft done with tears. 
 
 Ascend ! thou art not now 
 With those of mortal birth ; 
 The living God hath touched thy lips, 
 Thou who haft done with earth ! 
 
 Mrs. Howitt, i860. 
 
 * 
 
HEAVEN. 
 
 THE NEW SONG. 
 
 BEYOND the hills where suns go down, 
 And brightly beckon as they go, 
 I see the land of far renown. 
 
 The land which I so soon (hall know. 
 
 Above the diflonance of time. 
 And discord of its angry words, 
 
 I hear the everlafting chime. 
 The mufic of unjarring chords. 
 
 I bid it welcome ; and my hafte 
 To join it cannot brook delay ; — 
 
 O song of morning, come at laft. 
 And ye who fing it, come away ! 
 
 O song of light and dawn and bliss, 
 Sound over earth, and fill these fkies. 
 
 Nor ever, ever, ever cease 
 
 Thy soul-entrancing melodies ! 
 
Heaven. 
 
 289 
 
 Glad song of this disburdened earth, 
 Which holy voices then fhall fing : 
 
 Praise for creation's second birth, 
 And glory to creation's King ! 
 
 H. Bonar. 1856. 
 
 THE OTHER WORLD. 
 
 IT lies around us like a cloud, — 
 A world we do not see ; 
 Yet the sweet clofing of an eye 
 May bring us there to be. 
 
 Its gentle breezes fan our cheek ; 
 
 Amid our worldly cares 
 Its gentle voices whisper love. 
 
 And mingle with our prayers. 
 
 Sweet hearts around us throb and beat. 
 Sweet helping hands are ftirred. 
 
 And palpitates the veil between 
 With breathings almoft heard. 
 
 The filence — awful, sweet, and calm — 
 They have no power to break ; 
 
 For mortal words are not for them 
 To utter or partake. 
 
290 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 So thin, so soft, so sweet they gHde, 
 
 So near to press they seem, — 
 They seem to lull us to our reft, 
 
 And melt into our dream. 
 
 And in the hufli of reft they bring 
 
 'T is easy now to see 
 How lovely and how sweet a pass 
 
 The hour of death may be. 
 
 To close the eye, and close the ear. 
 
 Wrapped in a trance of bliss, 
 And gently dream in loving arms 
 
 To swoon to that — from this. 
 
 Scarce knowing if we wake or fleep. 
 
 Scarce afking where we are, 
 To feel all evil fink away. 
 
 All sorrow and all care. 
 
 Sweet souls around us ! watch us ftill. 
 
 Press nearer to our fide, 
 Into our thoughts, into our prayers, 
 
 With gentle helpings glide. 
 
 Let death between us be as naught, 
 
 A dried and vaniftied ftream : 
 Your joy be the reality. 
 
 Our suffering life the dream. 
 
 Mrs. H. B. Stowe. i860. 
 
Heaven. 
 
 291 
 
 FOREVER with the Lord! 
 Amen ! so let it be ! 
 Life from the dead is in that word, 
 And immortahty. 
 
 Here in the body pent, 
 Absent from Him I roam, 
 Yet nightly pitch my moving tent 
 A day's march nearer home. 
 
 My father's house on high, 
 Home of my soul ! how near, 
 At times, to faith's foreseeing eye 
 Thy golden gates appear ! 
 
 Ah ! then my spirit faints 
 To reach the land I love, 
 The bright inheritance of saints, 
 Jerusalem above ! 
 
 Yet clouds will intervene. 
 And all my prospe£t flies ; 
 Like Noah's dove, I flit between 
 Rough seas and ftormy Ikies. 
 
292 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 
 A .1 111 
 
 Anon the clouds depart, 
 
 
 The winds and waters cease ; 
 
 
 While sweetly o'er my gladdened heart 
 
 
 lid }\.V}<Xli\xo LIJC LHJ W yjl UCtlCC ; 
 
 
 rJeneath its glowing arch. 
 
 
 Along the hallowed ground. 
 
 
 I see cherubic armies march. 
 
 
 A r'cimr^ r»r rivf cirr»iinrl 
 
 
 I hear at morn and even, 
 
 
 At noon and midnight hour. 
 
 
 The choral harmonies of heaven 
 
 
 Ti'iirtKi''; Ri?Kpi tnncriip^i o'prnnwpr 
 
 
 1 hen, then i reel, that rie, 
 
 
 Remembered or forgot. 
 
 
 The Lord is never far from me, 
 
 
 ' 1 'hrMirrVi T nprPPlVP riim not. 
 
 
 " Forever with the Lord ! 
 
 
 Father, if 't is thy will. 
 
 
 The promise of that gracious word, 
 
 
 K'en here, to me fulfil. 
 
 
 Be thou at my right hand. 
 
 
 Then (hall I never fail ; 
 
 
 upnolu me, ana 1 neeus luuii iidnu ^ 
 
 
 Fight, and I (hall prevail. 
 
Heaven. 
 
 293 
 
 So, when my lateft breath 
 Shall rend the veil in twain, 
 By death I fhall escape from death. 
 And life eternal gain. 
 
 Knowing as I am known. 
 How fhall I love that word. 
 And oft repeat before the throne, 
 " Forever with the Lord ! " 
 
 y. Montgomery . 1853. 
 
 THERE is a land of pure delight,' 
 Where saints immortal reign ; 
 Infinite day excludes the night. 
 And pleasures banifh pain. 
 
 There everlafting spring abides. 
 And never withering flowers ; 
 
 Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
 This heavenly land from ours. 
 
 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
 Stand drefl^ed in living green : 
 
 So to the Jews old Canaan ftood. 
 While Jordan rolled between. 
 
294 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 But timorous mortals ftart and ftirink 
 
 To cross this narrow sea, 
 And linger fhivering on the brink, 
 
 And fear to launch away. 
 
 O, could we make our doubts remove. 
 
 These gloomy doubts that rise. 
 And see the Canaan that we love 
 
 With unbeclouded eves, — 
 
 Could we but climb where Moses ftood. 
 And view the landscape o'er, — 
 
 Not Jordan's ftream, nor death's cold flood. 
 Should fright us from the fhore. 
 
 Isaac Watts, 1674- 1748. 
 
 THE SURPASSING GLORY OF GOD. 
 
 SINCE o'er thy footftool here below 
 Such radiant gems are ftrown, 
 O, what magnificence muft glow. 
 Great God, about Thy throne ! 
 So brilliant here these drops of light, — 
 There the full ocean rolls — how bright! 
 
Heaven, 
 
 295 
 
 If night's blue curtain of the fky — 
 
 With thousand ftars inwrought, 
 Hung like a royal canopy 
 
 With glittering diamonds fraught — 
 Be, Lord, thy temple's outer veil, 
 What splendor at the fhrine muft dwell ! 
 
 The dazzling sun at noonday hour — 
 
 Forth from his flaming vase 
 Flinging o'er earth the golden fhower 
 
 Till vale and mountain blaze — 
 But fhows, O Lord, one beam of Thine : 
 What, then, the day where Thou doft fhine ! 
 
 O, how fhall these dim eyes endure 
 
 That noon of living rays ! 
 Or how our spirits, so impure, 
 
 Upon Thy glory gaze ! 
 Anoint, O Lord, anoint our fight. 
 And fit us for that world of light. 
 
 HEAVEN. 
 
 BEYOND these chilling winds and gloomy fkies, — 
 Beyond death's cloudy portal, — 
 There is a land where beauty neyer dies, 
 And love becomes immortal, — 
 
296 Heaven. 
 
 A land whose light is never dimmed by fhade, 
 
 Whose fields are ever vernal, 
 Where nothing beautiful can ever fade, 
 
 But bloom for aye eternal. 
 
 We may not know how sweet its balmy air, 
 
 How bright and fair its flowers ; 
 We may not hear the songs that echo there, 
 
 Through those enchanted bowers. 
 
 The city's fhining towers we may not see 
 
 With our dim earthly vifion ; 
 For death, the filent warder, keeps the key 
 
 That opes these gates elyfian. 
 
 But sometimes, when adown the weftern fky 
 
 The fiery sunset lingers. 
 Its golden gates swing inward noiseleflly. 
 
 Unlocked by filent fingers. 
 
 And while they ftand a moment half ajar. 
 
 Gleams from the inner glory 
 Stream brightly through the azure vault afar. 
 
 And half reveal the ftory. 
 
 O land unknown ! O land of love divine ! 
 
 Father all wise, eternal. 
 Guide, guide these wandering, way-worn feet of mine 
 
 Into those paftures vernal. 
 
 Miss N. A W. Prieji. i860. 
 
Heaven. 
 
 Matthew v. 3-10. 
 
 THERE is a dwelling-place above ; 
 Thither, to meet the God of love, 
 The poor in spirit go : 
 There is a paradise of reft ; 
 For contrite hearts and souls diftreft 
 Its ftreams of comfort flow. 
 
 There is a goodly heritage. 
 
 Where earthly paflions cease to rage ; 
 
 The meek that haven gain : 
 There is a board, where they who pine. 
 Hungry, athirft, for grace divine, 
 
 May feaft, nor crave again. 
 
 There is a voice to mercy true ; 
 To them who mercy's path pursue 
 
 That voice fhall bliss impart : 
 There is a fight from man concealed ; 
 That fight, the face of God revealed. 
 
 Shall bless the pure in heart. 
 
 There is a name, in heaven beftowed ; 
 That name, which hails them sons of God, 
 The friends of peace fhall know : 
 
298 Heaven. 
 
 There is a kingdom in the Iky, 
 Where they fhall reign with God on high, 
 Who serve Him beft below. 
 
 Lord! be it mine Hke them to choose 
 The better part, Hke them to use 
 
 The means Thy love hath given 
 Be holiness my aim on earth. 
 That death be welcomed as a birth 
 
 To life and bliss in Heaven ! 
 
 Bijhop R. Mant. 1831. 
 
 THE CITY OF REST. 
 " And the name of that city is reft." 
 
 BIRDS from out the eaft, O birds from out the 
 weft. 
 
 Have ye found that happy city in all your weary queft ? 
 Tell me, tell me, from earth's wandering may the heart 
 
 find glad surcease. 
 Can ye ftiow me as an earneft any olive-branch of 
 
 peace 
 
 I am weary of life's troubles, of its fin and toil and 
 care ; 
 
 I am faithless, cruftiing in my heart so many a fruitless 
 prayer. 
 
Heaven. 
 
 299 
 
 O birds from out the eaft, O birds from out the weft, 
 Can ye tell me of that city the name of which is Reft ? 
 
 Say, doth a dreamy atmosphere that blefted city crown ? 
 Are there couches spread for fleeping softer than the 
 eider-down ? 
 
 Does the filver sound of waters, falling 'twixt its marble 
 walls, 
 
 Hufh its solemn filence even into ftiller intervals ? 
 Doth the poppy (bed its influence there, or doth the 
 fabled moly 
 
 With its leafy-laden Lethe lade the eyes with flumber 
 holy ? 
 
 Do they never wake to sorrow, who, after toilsome 
 queft. 
 
 Have entered in that city, the name of which is Reft ? 
 
 Doth the fancy wile not there for aye ? Is the reftless 
 
 soul's endeavor 
 HulTied in a rhythm of solemn calm, forever and forever? 
 Are human natures satisfied of their intense defire ? 
 Is there no more good beyond to seek, or do they not 
 
 aspire ? 
 
 But weary, weary of the ore within its yellow sun. 
 Do they lie and eat its lotus-leaves and dream life's toil 
 is done ? 
 
 O tell me, do they there forget what here hath made 
 them bleft. 
 
 Nor figh again for home and friends, in the city named 
 Reft? 
 
300 Heaven. 
 
 O little birds, fly eaft again, — O little birds, fly weft; 
 Ye have found no happy city in all your weary queft. 
 Still fhall ye find no spot of reft wherever ye may ftray. 
 And ftill like you the human soul muft wing its weary 
 way. 
 
 There fleepeth no such city within the wide earth's 
 bound. 
 
 Nor hath the dreaming fancy yet its blissful portals found. 
 We are but children crying here upon a mother's breaft. 
 For life and peace and blefledness, and for eternal Reft ! 
 
 Bless God, I hear a ftill small voice, above life's clam- 
 orous din. 
 
 Saying, Faint not, O weary one, thou yet mayft enter in ; 
 That city is prepared for those who well do win the 
 fight. 
 
 Who tread the wine-press till its blood hath waftied 
 
 their garments white. 
 Within it is no darkness, nor any baleful flower 
 Shall there oppress thy weeping eyes with stupefying 
 
 power. 
 
 It lieth calm within the light of God's peace-giving 
 breaft. 
 
 Its walls are called Salvation, the city's name is Reft ! 
 
 Household Words. 
 
Heaven. 301 
 
 HOW LONG ? 
 
 MY God, it is not faithlefTness 
 That makes me say, " How long ? " 
 It is not heaviness of heart 
 
 That hinders me in song ; 
 'T is not despair of truth and right, 
 Nor coward dread of wrong. 
 
 But how can I with such a hope 
 
 Of glory and of home. 
 With such a joy before my eyes, 
 
 Not wifh the time were come. 
 Of years the jubilee, — of days 
 
 The Sabbath and the sum ! 
 
 These years, what ages have they been! 
 
 This life, how long it seems ! 
 And how can I, in evil days, 
 
 'Mid unknown hills and ftreams. 
 But figh for those of home and heart, 
 
 And vifit them in dreams? 
 
 Yet peace, my heart, and hufh, my tongue j 
 
 Be calm, my troubled breaft ; 
 Each hurrying hour is haftening on 
 
 The everlafting reft ; 
 
302 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 Thou knoweft that the time thy God 
 Appoints for thee is beft. 
 
 Let faith, not fear nor fretfulness, 
 
 Awake the cry, " How long ? " 
 Let no faint-heartedness of soul 
 
 Damp thy aspiring song ; 
 Right comes, truth dawns, and night departs 
 
 Of error and of wrong. 
 
 The Cross-Bearer. 
 
 THE CITY OF GOD. 
 
 IN Thee my powers, my treasures live, 
 To Thee my life muft tend ; 
 Giving Thyself, Thou all doft give, 
 O soul-sufficing Friend ! 
 
 And wherefore fhould I seek above, 
 
 The City in the fky 
 Since firm in faith, and deep in love. 
 
 Its broad foundations lie ^ 
 
 Since in a life of peace and prayer. 
 Nor known on earth nor praised. 
 
 By humbleft toil, by ceaseless care. 
 Its holy towers are raised ? 
 
Heaven. 
 
 Where pain the soul hath purified, 
 
 And penitence hath fhriven, 
 And truth is crowned and glorified, 
 
 There — only there — is heaven! 
 
 Eliza Scudder. 1858. 
 
SUNDAY. 
 
 SUNDAY MORNING. 
 
 HOW sweet, how calm this Sabbath morn 
 How pure the air that breathes, 
 And soft the sounds upon it borne, 
 And light its vapor wreaths ! 
 
 It seems as if the Chriftian's prayer. 
 
 For peace and joy and love. 
 Were answered by the very air 
 
 That wafts its (train above. 
 
 Let each unholy paffion cease. 
 
 Each evil thought be crufhed, 
 Each anxious care that mars thy peace 
 
 In faith and love be huflied. 
 
Sunday. 
 
 THE SABBATH OF THE SOUL. 
 
 SLEEP, deep to-day, tormenting cares, 
 Of earth and folly born ; 
 Ye fhall not dim the light that ftreams 
 From this celeftial morn. 
 
 To-morrow will be time enough 
 
 To feel your harfh control ; 
 Ye fhall not violate, this day, 
 
 The Sabbath of my soul. 
 
 Sleep, fleep forever, guilty thoughts ; 
 
 Let fires of vengeance die ; 
 And, purged from fin, may I behold 
 
 A God of purity ! 
 
 Mrs. Barhauld. 1825. 
 
 A HYMN FOR THE SABBATH. 
 
3o6 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 
 On thee, the high and lowly. 
 
 
 Rpndincr hefnre thp Thronp 
 
 
 Sing Holy^ Holy^ Holy^ 
 
 
 To the Great Three in One. 
 
 
 On thee, at the creation, 
 
 
 The light firft had its birth ; 
 
 
 On thee for our salv^ation 
 
 
 Chrift rose from depths of earth ; 
 
 
 On thee our Lord vi6torious 
 
 
 The Spirit sent from Heaven, 
 
 
 And thus on thee moft glorious 
 
 
 A triple Light was given. 
 
 
 Thou art a port prote£led 
 
 
 From ftorms that round us rise ; 
 
 
 A garden intersected 
 
 
 With ftreams of raradise ; 
 
 
 Thou art a cooling fountain 
 
 
 Tn 1Ifp'<; drv Hreiirv sand : 
 
 
 From thee, like Pisgah's mountain. 
 
 
 We view our Promised Land. 
 
 
 Thou art a holy ladder. 
 
 
 Where angels go and come ; 
 
 
 Each Sunday finds us gladder. 
 
 
 Nearer to heaven, our home ; 
 
 
 A day of sweet refle6tion. 
 
 
 Thou art a day of love ; 
 
 
 A day or resurrection 
 
 
 From earth to things above. 
 
Sunday. 307 
 
 To-day on weary nations 
 
 The heavenly manna falls ; 
 To holy convocations 
 
 The filver trumpet calls, 
 Where Gospel-light is glowing 
 
 With pure and radiant beams, 
 And living water flowing 
 
 With soul-refreftiing ftreams. 
 
 New graces ever gaining 
 
 From this our day of reft. 
 We reach the reft remaining 
 
 To spirits of the bleft ; 
 To Holy Ghoft be praises. 
 
 To Father and to Son ; 
 The Church her voice upraises. 
 
 To Thee, bleft Three in One, 
 
 Rev. Dr. Wordsworth. 1858. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH. 
 
 WE bless Thee for this sacred day, 
 Thou who haft every bleffing given, 
 Which sends the dreams of earth away. 
 And yields a glimpse of opening heaven. 
 
Sunday. 
 
 Rich day of holy, thoughtful reft ! 
 May we improve thy calm repose, 
 And, in God's service truly bleft, 
 Forget the world, its joys and woes. 
 
 Lord ! may thy truth upon the heart 
 Now fall and dwell as heavenly dew, 
 And flowers of grace in frefhness ftart 
 Where once the weeds of error grew. 
 
 May prayer now lift her sacred wings, 
 Contented with that aim alone 
 Which bears her to the King of kings, 
 And refts her at his fheltering throne. 
 
 Mrs. C. Gilman. 1848. 
 
 THE LORD'S DAY. 
 
 OTIME of tranquil joy and holy feeling ! 
 When over earth God's Spirit from above 
 Spreads out His wings of love ; 
 When sacred thoughts, like angels, come appealing 
 To our tent doors ; O eve, to earth and heaven 
 The sweeteft of the seven ! 
 
Sunday. 
 
 309 
 
 How peaceful are thy fkies ! thy air is clearer, 
 As on the advent of a gracious time : 
 
 The sweetness of its prime 
 Blefleth the world, and Eden's days seem nearer: 
 I hear, in each faint ftirring of the breeze, 
 
 God's voice among the trees. 
 
 O, while thy hallowed moments are diftilling 
 Their frefher influence on my heart like dews, 
 
 The chamber where I muse 
 Turns to a temple ! He whose converse thrilling 
 Honored Emmaus, that old eventide. 
 
 Comes sudden to my fide. 
 
 'T is light at evening time when Thou art present; 
 Thy coming to the eleven in that dim room 
 
 Brightened, O Chrift ! its gloom : 
 So bless my lonely hour that memories pleasant 
 Around the time a heavenly gleam may caft. 
 
 Which many days fhall laft ! 
 
 Raise each low aim, refine each high emotion. 
 That with more ardent footftep I may press 
 
 Toward Thy holiness ; 
 And, braced for sacred duty by devotion. 
 Support my cross along that rugged road 
 
 Which Thou haft sometime trod ! 
 
 I long to see Thee, for my heart is weary : 
 O when, my Lord ! in kindness wilt Thou come 
 To call Thy banifhed home ? 
 
310 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 The scenes are cHeerless, and the days are dreary ; 
 From sorrow and from fin I would be free, 
 And evermore with Thee ! 
 
 Even now I see the golden city ftiining 
 Up the blue depths of that transparent air : 
 
 How happy all is there ! 
 There breaks a day which never knows declining ; 
 A Sabbath, through whose circling hours the bleft 
 
 Beneath Thy fliadow reft ! 
 
 7. D. Burns. 1855. 
 
 THE PRISONER OF THE LORD. 
 
 A Sabbath Hymn for a Sick-Chamber. 
 
 THOUSANDS, O Lord of Hofts ! this day 
 Around Thine altar meet ; 
 And tens of thousands throng to pay 
 Their homage at Thy feet. 
 
 They see Thy power and glory there 
 
 As I have seen them too ; 
 They read, they hear, they join in prayer, 
 
 As I was wont to do. 
 
Sunday. 
 
 They fing Thy deeds as I have sung, 
 
 In sweet and solemn lays ; 
 Were I among them, my glad tongue 
 
 Might learn new themes of praise. 
 
 For Thou art in their midft, to teach 
 When on Thy name they call ; 
 
 And Thou haft bleffings. Lord, for each. 
 Haft bleffings. Lord, for all. 
 
 I, of such fellowftiip bereft. 
 
 In spirit turn to Thee ; 
 O, haft Thou not a bleffing left, 
 
 A bleffing, Lord, for me ? 
 
 The dew lies thick on all the ground, — 
 Shall my poor fleece be dry ? 
 
 The manna rains from heaven around, — 
 Shall I of hunger die ? 
 
 Behold Thy prisoner ; — loose my bands 
 
 If 't is Thy gracious will ; 
 If not — contented in Thy hands. 
 
 Behold Thy prisoner ftill ! 
 
 I may not to Thy courts repair. 
 
 Yet here Thou surely art ; 
 Lord, consecrate a house of prayer 
 
 In my surrendered heart. 
 
312 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 To faith reveal the things unseen, 
 
 To hope the joys untold ; 
 Let love without a veil between 
 
 Thy glory now behold. 
 
 O make Thy face on me to fhine, 
 
 That doubt and fear may cease ; 
 Lift up Thy countenance benign 
 
 On me — and give me peace. 
 
 James Montgomery. 1803-1853. 
 
 SUNDAY. 
 
 WHEN the worn spirit wants repose, 
 And fighs her God to seek, 
 How sweet to hail the evening's close, 
 That ends the weary week ! 
 
 How sweet to hail the early dawn. 
 
 That opens on the fight. 
 When firft that soul-reviving morn 
 
 Sheds forth new rays of light ! 
 
 Sweet dav ! thine hours too soon will cease 
 
 Yet, while thev gently roll. 
 Breathe, Heavenlv Spirit, source of peace, 
 
 A Sabbath o'er my soul ! 
 
Sunday. 
 
 When will my pilgrimage be done, 
 
 The world's long week be o'er, 
 That Sabbath dawn which needs no sun. 
 
 That day, which fades no more ? 
 
 James Edmejion. 18 20. 
 
 A SUNDAY HYMN. 
 
 LORD of all being ! throned afar, 
 Thy glory flames from sun and ftar ; 
 Centre and soul of every sphere. 
 Yet to each loving heart how near ! 
 
 Sun of our life, thy wakening ray 
 Sheds on our path the glow of day ; 
 Star of our hope, thy softened light 
 Cheers the long watches of the night. 
 
 Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn ; 
 Our noontide is thy gracious dawn ; 
 Our rainbow arch, thy mercy's fign ; 
 All, save the clouds of fin, are thine ! 
 
 Lord of all life, below, above. 
 
 Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love, 
 
 Before thy ever-blazing throne 
 
 We afk no luftre of our own. 
 
3H 
 
 Sunday. 
 
 Grant us thy truth to make us free, 
 And kindling hearts that burn for thee, 
 Till all thy living altars claim 
 One holy light, one heavenly flame ! 
 
 OF THE INCOMPARABLE TREASURE OF THE HOLY 
 SCRIPTURES. 
 
 ERE is the spring where waters flowe, 
 
 Here is the tree where trueth doth grow. 
 
 To lead our lives therein ; 
 Here is the Judge that ftints the ftrife, 
 
 Where men's devices faille ; 
 Here is the bread that feedes the life 
 
 That death cannot alTaile ; 
 The tidings of salvation deare 
 
 Come to our eares from hence; 
 The fortress of our faith is here, 
 
 And fhielde of our defence. 
 Then be not like the hogge that hath 
 
 A pearle at his defire. 
 And takes more pleasure in the trough, 
 
 And wallowing in the mire ; 
 
 Dr. O. W. Holmes, i860. 
 
 To quench our heate of finne ; 
 
Sunday. 
 
 Reade not this booke in any case 
 
 But with a fingle eye ; 
 Read not but firft defire God's grace 
 
 To vnderftand thereby ; 
 Pray ftill in faith with this respe6t, 
 
 To fru6lifie therein, 
 That knowledge may bring this effect 
 
 To mortify thy finne. 
 Then happie thou in all thy life, 
 
 What so to thee befalles ; 
 Yea, double happie (halt thou be 
 
 When God by death thee calles. 
 
 From Barker's Bible. 1594. 
 
THE ONE CHURCH. 
 
 OUTSIDE THE CHURCH. 
 
 I STAND without here in the porch, 
 I hear the bell's melodious din, 
 I hear the organ peal within, 
 I hear the prayer with words that scorch 
 Like sparks from an inverted torch, 
 I hear the sermon upon fin. 
 With threatenings of the laft account. 
 And all, tranflated in the air, 
 Reach me but as our dear Lord's prayer. 
 And as the Sermon on the Mount. 
 
 Muft it be Calvin, and not Chrift? 
 
 Muft it be Athanafian creeds. 
 
 Or holy water, books, and beads ? 
 
 Muft ftruggling souls remain content 
 
 With councils and decrees of Trent ? 
 
 And can it be enough for these 
 
 The Chriftian Church the year embalms 
 
 With evergreens and boughs of palms. 
 
 And fills the air with litanies ? 
 
The One Church. 
 
 I know that yonder Pharisee 
 Thanks God that he is not like me ; 
 In my humiliation drefled, 
 I only ftand and beat my breaft, 
 And pray for human charity. 
 
 Not to one church alone, but seven, 
 The voice prophetic spake from heaven : 
 And unto each the promise came, 
 Diverfified, but ftill the same; 
 For him that overcometh are 
 The new names written on the ftone. 
 The raiment white, the crown, the throne. 
 And I will give him the Morning Star ! 
 
 Ah ! to how many Faith has been 
 No evidence of things unseen, 
 But a dim fliadow that recafts 
 The creed of the Phantafiafts, 
 For whom no Man of Sorrows died, 
 For whom the Tragedy Divine 
 Was but a symbol and a fign. 
 And Chrift a phantom crucified ! 
 
 For others a diviner creed 
 Is living in the life they lead. 
 The paffing of their beautiful feet 
 BlefTes the pavement of the ftreet. 
 And all their looks and words repeat 
 Old Fuller's saying, wise and sweet. 
 
3i8 
 
 The One Church. 
 
 Not as a vulture, but a dove, 
 The Holy Ghoft came from above. 
 
 H. W. Longfellow. 1863. 
 
 FICUS RELIGIOSA. 
 
 THE Banyan of the Indian ifle 
 Spreads deeply down its maffive root, 
 And spreads its branching life abroad. 
 
 And bends to earth, with scarlet fruit ; 
 But when the branches reach the ground, 
 
 They firmly plant themselves again : 
 They rise and spread and droop and root. 
 An ever green and endless chain. 
 
 And so the Church of Jesus Chrift, 
 
 The blelTed Banyan of our God, 
 Faft-rooted upon Zion's mount. 
 
 Has sent its fheltering arms abroad ; 
 And every branch that from it springs, 
 
 In sacred beauty spreading wide, 
 As low it bends to bless the earth, 
 
 Still plants another by its fide. 
 
 Long as the world itself fhall laft. 
 The sacred Banyan fl:ill fhall spread. 
 
The One Church. 
 
 From clime to clime, from age to age, 
 Its fheltering fhadow fhall be fhed. 
 
 Nations fhall seek its pillared fhade, 
 Its leaves fhall for their healing be : 
 
 The circling flood that feeds its life. 
 The blood that crimsoned Calvary. 
 
 ONE IN CHRIST. 
 
 ONE baptism and one faith, 
 One Lord below, above. 
 The fellowfhip of Zion hath 
 
 One only u^atchw^ord, — Love. 
 From different temples though it rise. 
 One song ascendeth to the fkies. 
 
 Our sacrifice is One ; 
 
 One prieft before the throne, — 
 The crucified, the risen Son, 
 
 Redeemer, Lord alone ! 
 And fighs from contrite hearts that spring. 
 Our chief, our choicefl offering. 
 
 O why fhould they who love 
 
 One Gospel to unfold. 
 Who look for one bright home above, 
 
 On earth be ftrange and cold ? 
 
320 
 
 The One Church. 
 
 Why, subjects of the Prince of Peace, 
 In ftrife abide, and bitterness ? 
 
 O may that holy prayer — 
 
 His tendereft and His laft, 
 The utterance of His lateft care 
 
 Ere to His throne He pafled — 
 No longer unfulfilled remain. 
 The world's offence, the people's ftain ! 
 
 Head of Thy Church beneath. 
 
 The Catholic, — the true, — 
 On her disjointed members breathe. 
 
 Her broken frame renew ! 
 Then fhall Thy perfect will be done 
 When Chriftians love and live as one. 
 
 E. Robinson. 
 
 ALL-SEEING God ! 't is Thine to know 
 The springs whence wrong opinions flow 
 To judge, from principles within. 
 When frailty errs, and when we fin. 
 
 Who among men, great Lord of all. 
 Thy servant to his bar (hall call ? 
 Judge him, for modes of faith, thy foe. 
 And doom him to the realms of woe ? 
 
The One Church. 
 
 321 
 
 Who with another's eye can read ? 
 Or worfhip by another's creed ? 
 Trufting thy grace, we form our own, 
 And bow to thy commands alone. 
 
 If wrong, correct ; accept, if right ; 
 While faithful, we improve our light. 
 Condemning none, but zealous ftill 
 To learn and follow all thy will. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 DEDICATION HYMN. 
 
 ONE Father, God, we own ; 
 One Spirit evermore ; 
 One Chrift, with manger, cross, and throne. 
 The Light, the Way, the Door. 
 
 In souls we hail his birth ; 
 
 'T is now he comes again ; 
 His kingdom is the convert Earth, 
 
 His Church all faithful men. 
 
 The Scriptures thus we read ; 
 
 Of ftrangeft powers compiled. 
 To mould the heart and clear the creed 
 
 Of earth's frail, clouded child. 
 
I 
 
 322 
 
 The One Church. 
 
 Its eflence, not its writ, 
 
 Our sovereign rule we call ; 
 Not faftening down all truth to it, 
 
 But widening it to all. 
 
 With this free reverence. Lord, 
 
 In Chriftly church eftate, 
 With earneft, brotherly accord, 
 
 These walls we dedicate 
 
 To prayer and holy thought ; 
 
 AfFe6lions set above ; 
 To faiths from higheft fountains brought. 
 
 And works of wideft love. 
 
 Thy presence. Father, make 
 
 The refuge and supply ; 
 And for thy Truth and Mercy's sake 
 
 Build on, and san6i:ify. 
 
 Dr. N. L. Frothingham. 1863. 
 
 THE CHURCH UNIVERSAL. 
 
 ONE holy Church of God appears 
 Through every age and race, 
 Unwafted by the lapse of years, 
 Unchanged by changing place. 
 
The One Church. 
 
 323 
 
 From oldeft time, on fartheft shores, 
 
 Beneath the pine or palm, 
 One Unseen Presence flie adores. 
 
 With filence or with psalm. 
 
 Her priefts are all God's faithful sons 
 
 To serve the world raised up j 
 The pure in heart her baptized ones. 
 
 Love her communion cup. 
 
 he truth is her prophetic gift. 
 The soul her sacred page ; 
 And feet on mercy's errands swift 
 Do make her pilgrimage. 
 
 O living Church ! thine errand speed ; 
 
 Fulfil thy tafk sublime ; 
 With bread of life Earth's hunger feed ; 
 
 Redeem the evil time ! 
 
 Rev. S. Longfellow. 1863. 
 
 LIFE OF AGES. 
 
 LIFE of Ages, richly poured, 
 Love of God, unspent and free, 
 Flowing in the Prophet's word 
 And the People's liberty ! 
 
324 
 
 The One Church. 
 
 Never was to chosen race 
 
 That unftinted tide confined ; 
 Thine is every time and place, 
 
 Fountain sweet of heart and mind ! 
 
 Secret of the morning ftars, 
 
 Motion of the oldeft hours, 
 Pledge through elemental wars 
 
 Of the coming spirit's powers ! 
 
 Breathing in the thinker's creed, 
 
 Pulfing in the hero's blood. 
 Nerving fimpleft thought and deed, 
 
 Frefhening time with truth and good, 
 
 Consecrating art and song. 
 
 Holy book and pilgrim track. 
 Hurling floods of tyrant wrong 
 
 From the sacred limits back, — 
 
 Life of Ages, richly poured. 
 
 Love of God, unspent and free, 
 Flow ftill in the Prophet's word 
 
 And the People's liberty ! 
 
 Rev. S. Johnson. 1863. 
 
INDEX TO FIRST LINES. 
 
 Page 
 
 Ah I why fliould bitter tears be fhed 55 
 
 A little bird I am 182 
 
 All-seeing God ! 'tis Thine to know ...... 320 
 
 Almighty Former of this wondrous plan . . . . . 197 
 
 And is there nothing to be done . . . . . . -153 
 
 A poor wayfaring Man of gi'ief . . . . . . . 218 
 
 Are we not nobles ? We who trace . . . . . . .140 
 
 Arise ! this day shall shine ........ 37 
 
 A safe ftronghold our God is flill .16 
 
 As body when the soul has fled ....... 155 
 
 As, down in the sunless retreats of the ocean ..... 240 
 
 A soldier's course, from battles won . . . . . . 27 
 
 As flrangers, — glad for this good inn ...... 138 
 
 Author of good, to Thee we turn ...... 132 
 
 A voice from the desert comes awful and fhrill 20 
 
 Awake, my soul, awake to prayer . . . . . . 126 
 
 Awake, ye saints, and raise your eyes . . . . . -257 
 
 Before Jehovah,'s awful throne ....... 146 
 
 Begin the day with God ......... 105 
 
 Behold the wefbem evening light 275 
 
 Be not afaid to pray, — to pray is right ...... 80 
 
 Beyond the hills where suns go down 288 
 
 Beyond these chilling winds and gloomy Ikies ..... 295 
 
 Bowed 'neath the load of human ill ..... . 93 
 
326 
 
 Index to Firji Lines. 
 
 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm . . . . . . 221 
 
 Carry me across ! . . . . . . . . . . 8 
 
 Chrift, whose glory fills the Ikies . . . . . . . 109 
 
 Cling to the Mighty One 169 
 
 Come, Holy Spirit ! from the height ...... 177 
 
 Come Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove . . . . . . • I75 
 
 Come, let us pray : 't is sweet to feel 85 
 
 Come, mighty Spirit, penetrate . . . . . . .176 
 
 Come ! said Jesus' sacred voice ....... 57 
 
 Come unto me, when fhadows darkly gather ..... 256 
 
 Come, ye thankful people, come ....... 144 
 
 Dear Friend, whose presence in the house 180 
 
 Dear God, that watch doth keep . . . . . . . 112 
 
 Deem not that they are bleft alone ....... 63 
 
 Father, I call on Thee ........ 14 
 
 Father ! into Thy loving hands 246 
 
 Father, when o'er our trembling hearts ..... 64 
 
 Flow on, thou Fountain of my joy . . . • • • • 5^ 
 
 Forever with the Lord ........ 291 
 
 Friend after friend departs . . . . • • • .281 
 
 From lips divine, like healing balm ...... 35 
 
 From my lips in their defilement ....... 97 
 
 From the eternal fhadow rounding 282 
 
 Give to the winds thy fears . . . . . • • -159 
 
 God doth not leave His own ....... 53 
 
 God moves in a myfterious way ....... 40 
 
 God of my childhood and my youth ...... 267 
 
 God's ways are not as our ways . . . . . • .198 
 
 Go not far from me, O my Strength 206 
 
 Go to dark Gethsemane ......... 59 
 
 Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime 18 
 
 Gracious Source of every bleffing !......• 274 
 
 Gracious Spirit, dwell with me ....... 100 
 
 Had I a thousand hearts, I'd raise 210 
 
 J 
 
Index to Firjl Lines. 327 
 
 Had I the tongues of Greeks and Jews . . . . . 211 
 
 Hark ! the glad sound ! the Saviour comes ..... 166 
 
 Hath not thy heart within thee burned ...... 223 
 
 Hear my prayer, O Heavenly Father 122 
 
 Here is the spring where waters flowe 314 
 
 Here, sweetly forgetting and wholly forgot 189 
 
 He who himself and God would know 222 
 
 How blefl is he whose tranquil mind . . . . . .270 
 
 How happy are the new-born race . . . . . . 195 
 
 How meanly dwells the immortal mind ...... 248 
 
 How (halt thou bear the cross that now ..... 46 
 
 How sweet, how calm this Sabbath morn ...... 304 
 
 Humbly while my soul doth prove ...... 61 
 
 I am old and blind .......... 250 
 
 I and my house are ready. Lord ....... 107 
 
 I beg of you, I beg of you, my brothers loi 
 
 I cannot find Thee ! Still on reftless pinion . . . . 158 
 
 If any be diftreffed, and fain would gather 83 
 
 I know not if or dark or bright . . . . . . . 235 
 
 I look to Thee in every need 168 
 
 I love to fteal awhile away . . . . . . . . 117 
 
 I 'm returning, not departing 279 
 
 In the beginning was the Word 31 
 
 In Thee my powers, my treasures live 302 
 
 In the hour of my diftress 95 
 
 In the ftill filence of the voiceless night 130 
 
 I place an offering at Thy fhrine 190 
 
 Is this the way, my Father? 36 
 
 I (land without here in the porch 316 
 
 It came upon the midnight clear 29 
 
 It is not time that flies 278 
 
 It lies around us like a cloud 289 
 
 I was a wandering fheep ........ 172 
 
 Jesus, caft a look on me 99 
 
 Jesus ! lover of my soul ........ 170 
 
 Jesus, the very thought is sweet ....... 167 
 
 Judge not ; the workings of his brain . . . . . . 75 
 
328 Index to Firft Lines. 
 
 Kingdoms and thrones to God belong . . . . . 
 
 
 Let deepeft filence all around ...... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Long plunged in sorrow, I refign ... 
 
 
 Lord, a happy child of Thine .... 
 
 
 Lord of all being ! throned afar 
 
 
 Lord, teach us how to pray aright ..... 
 
 82 
 
 Lord, the lights are gleaming from the diftant fliore . 
 
 . 264 
 
 Lord, Thou haft given me a cell . 
 
 
 Lord, many times I am a-weary quite .... 
 
 14.7 
 
 Love conftitutes my crime ....... 
 
 184 
 
 Love ! if thy deflined sacrifice am I . 
 
 . 186 
 
 
 23 
 
 Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord . 
 
 5 
 
 My God ! in life's moft doubtful hour ..... 
 
 89 
 
 My God, in Thee all fulness lies ..... 
 
 • 236 
 
 My God ! is any hour so sweet ...... 
 
 86 
 
 
 • 301 
 
 
 74 
 
 
 
 My God protects : my fears begone ..... 
 
 238 
 
 My God, whose gracious pity I may claim 
 
 45 
 
 My heart is easy and my burden light ..... 
 
 189 
 
 My heart is refling, 0 my God ..... 
 
 . 203 
 
 
 143 
 
 
 
 
 271 
 
 
 . 231 
 
 Not on a prayerless bed ....... 
 
 78 
 
 
 298 
 
 0 day of reft and gladness ....... 
 
 306 
 
 
 • 17 
 
 0 for a closer walk with God ...... 
 
 148 
 
 
 . 224 
 
 
 32 
 
Index to F'lrji Lines. 329 
 
 O happy soul that lives on high ....... 230 
 
 O help us, Lord ! each hour of need ...... 88 
 
 O Holy Father, juft and true 19 
 
 O Israel, to thy tents repair 25 
 
 O Lord ! how happy is the time 233 
 
 O Lord, turn not Thy face away ....... 87 
 
 O Loved ! but not enough ........ 181 
 
 O Shadow in a sultry land ........ 116 
 
 O sometimes gleams upon our fight ....... 2 
 
 O spirit, freed from earth ........ 286 
 
 O this is bleffmg, this is reft 205 
 
 O Thou great Friend to all the sons of men 33 
 
 O Thou who didfb deny to me ........ 66 
 
 O timely happy, timely wise ....... no 
 
 O time of tranquil joy and holy feeling ...... 308 
 
 O to have dwelt in Bethlehem . . . . . . . 215 
 
 O'er the dark wave of Galilee . . . . . . . • 58 
 
 One baptism, and one faith . . . . . . . . 319 
 
 One Father, God, we own . . . . , , . .321 
 
 One holy Church of God appears ....... 322 
 
 One prayer I have, — all prayers in one . . . . . -103 
 
 One year ago, — a ringing voice ....... 38 
 
 Only waiting till the fhadows ........ 245 
 
 Open, Lord, mine inward ear ....... 225 
 
 OppreiTion fhall not always reign . . . . . . .21 
 
 Our God, our Father, with us flay ...... 28 
 
 Our God ! our God ! Thou fhineft here ...... i 
 
 Our pathway oft is wet with tears . . . . . . 273 
 
 Out of the dark the circling sphere ....... 22 
 
 Peace ! Be ftill ! 42 
 
 Prisoners of hope ! be ftrong, be bold 26 
 
 Peace, troubled soul ' Thou needft not fear . . . . 241 
 
 Quiet, Lord, my froward heart ....... 229 
 
 Saviour ! though my rebellious will 152 
 
 See, before us in our journey ........ 283 
 
 Sickness is a school severe ........ 49 
 
330 Index to Firji Lines. 
 
 Since o'er Thy footftool here below . . . . . 
 
 . 294 
 
 Skies are dark and winds are moaning .... 
 
 261 
 
 Sleep, fleep to-day, tormenting cares . . . . 
 
 • 305 
 
 Sometimes a light surprises ...... 
 
 102 
 
 Sow with a generous hand ...... 
 
 . 214 
 
 Star of morn and even . ...... 
 
 131 
 
 Strong are all the walls around me . . . . . 
 
 . . 183 
 
 Strong-souled Reformer, whose far-seeing faith 
 
 33 
 
 Sweet Saviour ! bless us ere we go . 
 
 120 
 
 That myftic word of Thine, 0 sovereign Lord 
 
 93 
 
 The Banyan of the Indian ifle ...... 
 
 • . 318 
 
 The child leans on its parent's breaft .... 
 
 228 
 
 The day is ended. Ere I fink to fleep . . . . 
 
 122 
 
 The day of the Lord is at hand ..... 
 
 3 
 
 The foe behind, the deep before . . . . . 
 
 12 
 
 The hour of my departure 's come .... 
 
 269 
 
 The hour, the hour, the parting hour . . . . 
 
 . 276 
 
 The Lord descended from above ..... 
 
 . . 165 
 
 The Lord is King ! lift up thy voice . . . . . 
 
 . 160 
 
 The Lord my paflure fliall prepare .... 
 
 213 
 
 The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed . 
 
 . 81 
 
 The purple morning gilds the eaflern fl-cies . 
 
 113 
 
 Therefore, 0 friend ! 1 would not, if I might . 
 
 . 70 
 
 There is a dwelling-place above ..... 
 
 297 
 
 There is a land of pure delight ...... 
 
 • 293 
 
 There is a land where beauty cannot fade 
 
 . . 56 
 
 There is a light in yonder fkies . . . . . 
 
 . . 187 
 
 The seed muft die before the corn appears . 
 
 . . 69 
 
 These hairs of age are meffengers . . . . . 
 
 . 254 
 
 These years of life, — what do they seem ? . 
 
 266 
 
 The fliadovvs of the evening hours . . . . . 
 
 . 118 
 
 The time for toil is paft ...... 
 
 . . 156 
 
 1 lie weaiy uciy tiL iciigiu ib petit . . . . . 
 
 
 The world can neither give nor take .... 
 
 237 
 
 The world is wise, for the world is old . . . . 
 
 • 150 
 
 They talked of Jesus as they went .... 
 
 . . 178 
 
 This did not once so trouble me . , . . . 
 
 . 149 
 
Index to Firjl Lines. 331 
 
 This gracious promise, Lord, fulfil 91 
 
 Thou all-sufficient One 163 
 
 Thou art the Way ; and he who fighs 174 
 
 Though some good things of lower worth ...... 201 
 
 Thou God of Love ! beneath thy fheltering wings . , . 281 
 
 Thou hidden Source of calm repose 227 
 
 Thou, long disowned, reviled, oppreft 10 
 
 Thousands, O Lord of Hofls ! this day 310 
 
 Through night to light . ........ 71 
 
 Thus saith God of His Anointed 13 
 
 Thy will be done ! I will not fear ...... 104 
 
 'T was in the watches of the night . . . . . • .129 
 
 We bless thee for this sacred day ...... 307 
 
 We see not, know not ; all our way ....... 6 
 
 We will not weep ; for God is flanding by us . . . • 54 
 What ails my heart, that in my breaft . . . . . .124 
 
 What are these in bright array ?....... 48 
 
 W^hen all Thy mercies, O my God 142 
 
 When darkness long has veiled my mind ..... 73 
 
 When gathering clouds around I view ...... 262 
 
 When God upheaved the pillared earth ..... 239 
 
 When in the vale of lengthened years ...... 265 
 
 When life's tempefhuous ftorms are o'er ..... 268 
 
 When the worn spirit wants repose . . . . . . -312 
 
 While Thee I seek, protecting Power 90 
 
 While toil and warfare urge us on our way . . . . -133 
 
 Who, that a watcher doth remain ...... 67 
 
 Why shouldfl thou ftudy in the month of June ..... 241 
 
 Without hafle ! without reft !.....,. 76 
 
 With years oppreffed, with sorrow worn ...... 252 
 
 Would you be young again ? ....... 255 
 
 Yes, I will always love ; and, as I ought . . . , . .191 
 
 Yes, thou mayft weep, for Jesus fhed ...... 43 
 
 Your harps, ye trembling saints ....... 258 
 
 ? 
 
i