F-4621 ^!o FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY Section /5<5?"«2-— - / Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2013 http://archive.org/details/peflyreliOOIyte -A DEC 8 1933 ' POEMS CHIEFLY RELIGIOUS. BY THE REV. H. F. LYTE, A.M. LONDON. JAMES NISBET, BERNERS STREET: AND W. MARSH, OXFORD STREET. MDCCCXXXIH. ELLERTON AND HENDERSON, PRINTERS; GOUGH SQUARE, LONDON. TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD FARNHAM, SfC 4"C Sfc. My dear Lord Farnham, — This little volume was to have been inscribed to Lady Farnham. It was at her instance that it was sent to the press ; and I was in the act of penning a little dedicatory tribute to her for its commencement, when intelligence reached me of the loss which your Lordship, myself, and the world at large, had sustained in her death. I must not attempt to describe my feelings on such an occasion. To know Lady Farnham, was to reverence and love her : and I knew her well. — This, however, is not the IV DEDICATION. place to enlarge on her talents and virtues : I did not dare to eulogize them while she lived; and could she now address me from her present bright abode, I know that her admonition would be, "Give glory to God, not to me." For my- self, and my little volume, I feel that we have lost in dear Lady Farnham a kind and efficient Patroness. The favourable opinion of one, whose taste was as refined as her piety was exalted, would have afforded some sanction to these trifles ; and the dedication of them to her would have shewn that I was not insensible of the many kindnesses I have received at her hands. But these hopes are over now. She is gone where better strains claim her regard, and I have no longer an opportunity of testifying to her thus my affection and respect. Permit me then, my dear Lord, to transfer the tribute to you : and should you, amidst your numerous important and patriotic engagements, find time DEDICATION. V to cast a glance on the ensuing pages, what pleasure would it afford me to think that any sentiment expressed there might contribute to give you comfort, under a bereavement such as few are called to experience. I have the honour to be, My dear Lord, Your affectionate and sympathizing servant, H. F. LYTE. JBrixuam. Nov. 183'S. CONTENTS. Page How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land ? J Elijah's Interview with God 4 The Mother and her dying Boy 7 The Alps 11 Mary's Giave 15 "The Unknown God" 17 Stability 21 On a Naval Officer buried in the Atlantic 24 The Voice of God 26 Agnes 28 The Approach of Spring 31 November 87 Lo, we have left all, and followed Thee 41 Morning Thoughts 45 Evening 48 Invocation , 51 " Return unto Me, and I will return unto thee " ... 53 Fly, ye Hours 55 " Whither shall I fly from Thy presence ? " 57 Autumnal Hymn 60 Parted Christians 63 Ellen 66 Spare my Flower 68 Aspirations 71 Winter 74 " My Beloved is mine, and I am His" 76 A Summer Day in Winter 79 "Jesus wept" 8:3 Time passes on So The Wall-flower 88 Jehovah- Jireh 94 The Pilgrim's Progress 96 Mil CONTENTS. Page The Pilgrim's Song 99 To a Blade of Grass 101 A fallen Sister 105 The Sailor's Meditation, on Watch at Night 108 She is gone ! she is gone ! HI Flowers 114 New Years Morning Hymn 118 Recollections 120 The World renounced 124 " Is this thy kindness to thy Friend?" 127 The Infant's Address to departing Day-light 1-30 "It is I: be not afraid" , 135 Inscription on a Monument to S — P — S — 138 The Prayer-answering God 139 The Heart in Tune , 142 Domestic Love 146 Sad Thoughts 148 Pleading for Mercy 156 To Ellen, weeping in Church on the Anniversary of her Father's Death, when Fifteen Years old... 159 On dreaming of my Mother 162 •• It doth not yet appear what we shall be" 163 POEMS, CHIEFLY RELIGIOUS. HOW SHALL WE SING THE LORD'S SONG IN A STRANGE LAND ? " The song of God, so nobly sung By angels in a higher sphere, Shall my unworthy heart and tongue Attempt its numbers here ? With spirit cleaving to the dust, How should I hope to glow and soar: How speak of heavenly joy and trust, Till I have felt them more ? B 2 An heir of guilt, a child of sin, An exile in a world like this, What should I find without, within, To match with Him and His ? In vain I spread my nickering wings j In vain I strive aloft to flee : Great Lord of lords, and King of kings, I cannot sing of Thee ! I want a seraph's lofty voice, I want a seraph's soaring wing, Before I make such themes my choice, And God's dread glories sing. Thou needest not a note of mine To swell the triumphs of thy throne, Where myriads round thee bend and shine, And Heaven is all thy own ! No, let me rather sit and sigh, And drop contrition's silent tear : Praise is the task of saints on high 5 But prayer of sinners here. The song of God, that glorious song, From me in such a world as this ? O, no ! a worthier heart and tongue Must speak of Him and His. b2 ELIJAH'S INTERVIEW WITH GOD. And He said, Go forth, an J stand upon the mount before the Lord . And, behold, the Lord passed by ; and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks, before the Lord ; but the Lord was not in the wind : and after the wind an earthquake ; but the Lord was not in the earthquake : and after tbe earthquake a fire ; but the Lord was not in the fire : and after the fire a still small voice." 1 Kings xix. 11, 12. On Horeb's rock the prophet stood: The Lord before him passed : A hurricane in angry mood Swept by him strong and fast. The forests fell before its force ; The rocks were shivered in its course : God rode not in the blast ! 'Twas but the whirlwind of His breath, Announcing danger, wreck, and death. It ceased : the air was mute. A cloud Came muffling up the sun : When through the mountains deep and loud An earthquake thundered on. The frighted eagle sprang in air ; The wolf ran howling from his lair. God was not in the stun ! Twas but the rolling of His car, The trampling of His steeds from far. It ceased again ; and Nature stood And smoothed her ruffled frame : When swift from heaven a fiery flood To earth devouring came. Down to his depths the ocean fled ; The sickening sun looked wan and dead. Yet God filled not the flame ! 'Twas but the fierceness of His eye, That lightened through the troubled sky. At last a voice all still and small Rose sweetly on the ear ; Yet rose so calm and clear, that all In heaven and earth might hear. It spoke of hope - } it spoke of love ; It spoke as spirits speak above ; And God himself was here ! For, O, it was a Father's voice, That bade His trembling world rejoice. Speak, gracious Lord, speak ever thus ; And let thy terrors prove The harbingers of peace to us, The heralds of thy love ! Shine through the earthquake, fire, and storm. Shine in thy milder, better form, And all our fears remove ! One word of thine is all we claim ; Tis "pardon" through a Saviour's name. THE MOTHER AND HER DYING BOY. BOY. My mother, my mother, O let me depart ! Your tears and your pleadings are swords to my heart. I hear gentle voices, that chide my delay ; I see lovely visions, that woo me away. My prison is broken, my trials are o'er ! O mother, my mother, detain me no more ! MOTHER. And will you then leave us, my brightest, my best ? And will you run nestling no more to my breast ? s The summer is coming to sky and to bower; The tree that you planted will soon be in flower : You loved the soft season of song and of bloom ; O, shall it return, and find you in the tomb ? BOY. Yes, mother, I loved in the sunshine to play, And talk with the birds and the blossoms all day, But sweeter the songs of the spirits on high, And brighter the glories round God in the sky: I see them ! I hear them ! they pull at my heart ! My mother, my mother, O let me depart ! MOTHER. do not desert us ! Our hearts will be drear, Our home will be lonely, when you are not here. Your brother will sigh 'mid his playthings, and say 1 wonder dear William so long can delay. That foot like the wild wind, that glance like a star. O what will this world be, when they are afar ? 9 BOY. This world, dearest mother ! O live not for this $ No, press on with me to the fulness of bliss ! And, trust me, whatever bright fields I may roam, My heart will not wander from you and from home. Believe me still near you on pinions of love ; Expect me to hail you when soaring above. MOTHER. Well, go, my beloved ! The conflict is o'er : My pleas are all selfish ; I urge them no more. Why chain your bright spirit down here to the clod, So thirsting for freedom, so ripe for its God ? Farewell, then ! farewell, till we meet at the Throne, Where love fears no partings, and tears are un- known ! JO BOY. glory ! O glory ! what music ! what light ! What wonders break in on my heart, on my sight ! 1 come, blessed spirits ! I hear you from high. O frail, faithless nature, can this be to die ? So near ! what, so near to my Saviour and King ? O help me, ye angels, His glories to sing ! 11 THE ALPS. The Alps — the Alps — the joyous Alps, Are all around me heaving high. I bow me to their snowy scalps, That rush into the sky. Hail, lordly land of storm and strife, To poetry and wonder dear ! Tis worth an age of common life To feel as I do here : To look down on that deep-blue lake ; To look up in that glorious sky ; To feel my soul within me wake, And ask for wings to fly : 12 To bound the airy heights along ; Above the floating clouds to stand ; A meet Creation's God among The wonders of His hand. Hail, scenes of holy grandeur ! hail ! Where mortal sense stands hushed and awed. O, who could gaze on such, and fail To think of Thee, my God ? Alone and dread Thou dwellest here, The Source and Soul of all I see. I look around in joy and fear, And feel I am with Thee! I see Thee on the mountains sit, At summer's noon, sublime and still ; Or in the giant shadows flit Along from hill to hill. 13 I read Thy presence and Thy power In each eternal rock I meet ; I trace Thy love in every flower That blossoms at my feet. Thou speakest from each rolling cloud That pours its stormy mirth on high, When cliff to cliff is shouting loud, Responsive to the sky. Thy voice at night is in the sound Of sinking glaciers, rushing rills, And avalanches thundering round Among the startled hills. The mountain mists, in all their moods, The snows by earthly feet untrod, The fells, the forests, and the floods, Are all instinct with God. 14 O region s, wonderful and wild, Sublimity's inspiring home, Scenes I have dreamt of since a child, And longed as now to roam ! And I am here ! and I may range Your length and breadth without control, And feel a world all new and strange Break in upon my soul ! Hail, mountain monarchs ! hail ! Again Before your reverend feet I bow : How poor is language to explain The thoughts that fill me now ! 15 MARY'S GRAVE. Mary, thou art gone to rest ; Why should we deplore thee ? Light the turf lies on thy breast, Soft the winds breathe o'er thee. Here within thy native clay Calmly thou art sleeping, Safer, happier, far than they Who are o'er thee weeping. Pleasant is thy lowly bed, Close to those that bore thee ; Trees, 'neath which thy childhood played, Gently waving o'er thee. 16 Hark the thrush ! how sweet his lay ! See the flowers, how blooming ! " Weep not for the dead," they say, " Though in earth consuming. " Weep not for her — she is gone " Where no cares can move her : " All her earthly labours done, " All her trials over. " Weep not — she has found a home " Where no sorrow paineth : " Sin, nor tears, nor terrors come, " Where a Saviour reigneth." " THE UNKNOWN GOD." Acts xvii. 23—25. The Lord hath builded for himself ; He needs no earthly dome : The universe His dwelling is, Eternity His home. Yon glorious sky His temple stands, So lofty, bright, and blue, All lamped with stars, and curtained round With clouds of every hue. Ere sun, or moon, or earth arose, Or men or angels were, The Lord in perfect glory dwelt, And had his homage there. c 18 And there shall bide, while all beside Shall end as they began -, And there shall never want His praise, However silent man. Earth is His altar : nature there Her daily tribute pays : The elements upon Him wait, The seasons roll His praise. Where shall I see Him ? How describe The Dread, Eternal One ? His foot-prints are in every place, Himself is found in none. He called the world, and, lo, it came j The heavens, and they appeared : His hand poured forth the mighty deep ; His arm the mountains reared. 19 He sets His foot upon the hills, And earth beneath Him quakes ; He walks upon the hurricane, And in the thunder speaks. I search the rounds of space and time, Nor find His semblance there : Grandeur has nothing so sublime, Nor beauty half so fair. Yet all I am, or meet, proclaim His wisdom, love, and power : They shine from all yon rolling worlds j They bloom in every flower. He is ; He was : He aye shall be. But how, my soul ? and what ? Where is He, say, ye works of His I Vain thought ! where is He not ? 20 Thou Omnipresent, dread Unknown, Engage me evermore : Enlarge my views, exalt my soul, And help me to adore ! l 21 STABILITY. There is a change in all below ; Nought sure beneath the sky : Suns rise and set, tides ebb and flow, And man but lives to die. Our joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, Still course each other on : The gaud attracts, the phantom cheers — We grasp, and it is gone ! No drop of honey, but a sting Within it lies concealed 5 No hour that passes, but its wing Away some good has wheeled. 22 The joyous sun that lights to-day But clouds to-morrow's sky : The stars but shine to fall away ; The world but lives to die. And let them pass — each earthly thing — While, Lord, 'tis mine to stand On Thy eternal word, and cling To Thy almighty hand. Though sun and moon should sink in gloom , Thy promise ne'er declines : Dissolving worlds but leave Thee room To work Thy vast designs. Linked to Thy truth I hold me up, Though earth from 'neath me slide ; And take content, whatever cup Thy wisdom may provide. 23 Bitter or sweet, I little heed : All, all is sweet to me, While I my title clearly read To joys at last with Thee. 24 ON A NAVAL OFFICER BURIED IN THE ATLANTIC. There is, in the wide, lone sea, A spot unmarked, but holy 5 For there the gallant and the free In his ocean bed lies lowly. Down, down, within the deep, That oft to triumph bore him, He sleeps a sound and pleasant sleep, With the salt waves washing o'er him. He sleeps serene, and safe From tempest or from billow, Where the storms, that high above him chafe, Scarce rock his peaceful pillow. 25 The sea and him in death They did not dare to sever : It was his home while he had breath 5 'Tis now his rest for ever. Sleep on, thou mighty dead ! A glorious tomb they've found thee — The broad blue sky above thee spread, The boundless waters round thee. No vulgar foot treads here ; No hand profane shall move thee ; But gallant fleets shall proudly steer, And warriors shout, above thee. And when the last trump shall sound, And tombs are asunder riven, Like the morning sun from the wave thou'lt bound, To rise and shine in heaven. 26 THE VOICE OF GOD.— For Music. PSALM XXIX. Glory and praise to Jehovah on high ! Glory from all, through the earth and the sky ! Angels, approach Him in homage and duty ; Fall at the feet of your Heavenly King : Saints, to His presence O throng, in the beauty Of holiness — there all His mercies to sing. Glory and praise to Jehovah on high ! Glory from all through the earth and the sky ! The voice of Jehovah, majestic and loud, In thunders comes forth from his palace of cloud : That voice o'er the silence of ocean is breaking ; It rolls o'er the waters, it bursts on the shore : 27 The forests are bending, the mountains are quaking, And earth and her creatures stand still and adore. Glory and praise to Jehovah on high ! Glory from all, through the earth and the sky ! The voice of Jehovah more sweetly is heard By saints in His temple attending His word. He speaks not to them in the whirlwind or thunder $ He comes not to threaten, denounce, or reprove : He comes with glad tidings of joy and of wonder ; He bids them be happy in Jesus's love. Glory and praise to Jehovah on high ! Glory from all, through the earth and the sky ! 28 AGNES. I saw her in childhood — A bright gentle thing, Like the dawn of the morn, Or the dews of the spring The daisies and hare-bells Her playmates all day j Herself as light-hearted And artless as they. I saw her again — A fair girl of eighteen, Fresh glittering with graces Of mind and of mien. 29 Her speech was all music ; Like moonlight she shone ; The envy of many, The glory of one. Years, years fleeted over — I stood at her foot : The bud had grown blossom, The blossom was fruit. A dignified mother, Her infant she bore -, And looked, I thought, fairer Than ever before. I saw her once more — Twas the day that she died : Heaven's light was around her, And God at her side ; 30 No wants to distress her, No fears to appal — O then, I felt, then She was fairest of all. 31 THE APPROACH OF SPRING. Oh ! spring-time now will soon be here — The sweetest time of all the year ; When fields are green, and skies are blue, And the world grows beautiful anew. The storms and clouds shall pass from high ; And the sun walk lordly up the sky, And look down love and joy again On herb, and beast, and living men. Then the laughing flowers on plant and tree Shall bud and blossom pleasantly j And spirits through the buxom air Drop health and gladness every where i 32 The birds shall build their nests, and wake Their roundelays in bush and brake ; And the young west- wind on joyous feet Go wooing along from sweet to sweet. Then lives lithe Hope, live Love and Mirth ; Then God in beauty walks the earth : The heart is in tune, and the life-blood plays, And the soul breaks out in songs of praise. O ! spring-time now will soon be here, The sweetest time of all the year ; When green leaves burst, and flow'rets spring, And young hearts too are blossoming. 'Twas then I ventured first to twine My Annie's trembling arm in mine ; And trod — with her I cared not where — Through vocal fields and scented air. 33 . O days of sunshine, song, and flowers I O young Love's early haunts and hours ! O tones and looks ! O smiles and tears ! How shine ye still through lapse of years ! There was one bank we loved to climb, All matted o'er with fragrant thyme, And screened by gorse from every breeze But the sweet south, up which the bees Came musical ; and there we stood, And gazed down on the ocean flood, That heaved and slumbered, calm and mild, Between his shores, like a cradled child 3 Or marked the ploughman, as he trod With sluggish heel the upland clod — Rough contrast to the light sea-mew, That round his pathway screamed and flew 34 Or turned where on the apple trees Young Spring sat swinging in the breeze, Unfolding buds, and tending flowers, For Summer's future fruits and bowers. All, all was bright ! — at times like this No sight or sound comes in amiss j But things around appear to win A colour from the mood within. The earth laughed into flower : the sky • Cleared off the cloud from his brow on high j And God — the God of grace — unfurled His flag of peace o'er a fallen world. These youthful days are past and gone ; The autumn of my years comes on ; I much am changed in mind and frame ; Yet Spring, sweet Spring, comes still the same. 35 I grow young with the young year then ; I live my past lot o'er again j And in these hours of song and bloom See types of those beyond the tomb. O ! spring-time now will soon be here, The sweetest time of all the year ; When God looks in on nature's night, And says, " Be light/' and there is light. O Author of her annual birth ! Reviver of this ruined earth ! When humbler things Thy influence share, Be not the soul forgotten there ! Rise, Sun of Glory ! rise, and shine Within this wintry breast of mine ; And make my inward wastes and snows Rejoice and blossom as the rose. d2 36 O, while I seem to catch the sound Of vegetation swelling round, Grant me within a growth to prove Of faith, and hope, and joy, and love ! Spring-tide of grace, thy course begin ; Chase the dark reign of sense and sin ; From light to light advance and shine, Till heaven's eternal spring is mine ! 37 NOVEMBER. The autumn wind is moaning low the requiem of the year ; The days are growing short again, the fields forlorn and sere j The sunny sky is waxing dim, and chill the hazy air ; And tossing trees before the breeze are turning brown and bare. All nature and her children now prepare for rougher days : The squirrel makes his winter bed, and hazel hoard purveys - } 38 The sunny swallow spreads his wing to seek a brighter sky 5 And boding owl with nightly howl says cloud and storm are nigh. No more 'tis sweet to walk abroad among the evening dews : The flowers are fled from every path, with all their scents and hues : The joyous bird no more is heard, save where his slender song The robin drops, as meek he hops the withered leaves among. Those withered leaves, that slender song, a solemn truth convey, — In wisdom's ear they speak aloud of frailty and decay : They say, that man's apportioned year shall have its winter too 3 Shall rise and shine, and then decline, as all around him do. 39 They tell him, all he has on earth, his brightest dearest things, His loves and friendships, joys and hopes, have all their falls and springs : A wave upon a moon-lit sea, a leaf before the blast, A summer flower, an April hour, that gleams and hurries past. And be it so : I know it well : myself, and all that's mine, Must roll on with the rolling year, and ripen to decline. I do not shun the solemn truth : to him it is not drear Whose hopes can rise above the skies, and see a Saviour near. It only makes him feel with joy, this earth is not his home 5 It sends him on from present ills to brighter hours to come : 40 It bids him take with thankful heart whate'er his God may send, Content to go through weal or woe to glory in the end. Then murmur on, ye wintry winds ; remind me of my doom : Ye lengthened nights, still image forth the darkness of the tomb. Eternal summer lights the heart where Jesus deigns to shine. I mourn no loss, I shun no cross, so thou, O Lord, art mine ! 41 " LO, WE HAVE LEFT ALL, AND FOLLOWED THEE." Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow Thee : Destitute, despised, forsaken, Thou from hence my all shalt be. Perish, every fond ambition, All I've sought, and hoped, and known j Yet how rich is my condition, — God and heaven are still my own ! Let the world despise and leave me — They have left my Saviour too — Human hearts and looks deceive me ; Thou art not, like them, untrue ; 42 And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate, and friends may shun me Shew Thy face, and all is bright ? Go then, earthly fame and treasure ! Come, disaster, scorn, and pain ! In Thy service, pain is pleasure ; With Thy favour, loss is gain. I have called Thee Abba, Father ; I have stayed my heart on Thee : Storms may howl, and clouds may gather ; All must work for good to me. Man may trouble and distress me; 'Twill but drive me to Thy breast. Life with trials hard may press me ; Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. 43 O, 'tis not in grief to harm me, While Thy love is left to me ! O, 'twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmixed with Thee. Take, my soul, thy full salvation ; Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care - ? Joy to find in every station Something still to do or bear ! Think what Spirit dwells within thee ; What a Father's smile is thine 5 What a Saviour died to win thee, — Child of Heaven, shouldst thou repine ? Haste then on from grace to glory, Armed by faith, and winged by prayer j Heaven's eternal day's before thee j God's own hand shall guide thee there. 44 Soon shall close thy earthly mission ; Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days ; Hope soon change to glad fruition, Faith to sight, and prayer to praise. a:> MORNING THOUGHTS. Again, O Lord, I ope my eyes, Thy glorious light to see, And share the gifts so largely lent To thankless man by Thee. And why has God o'er me this night The watch so kindly kept ? And why have I so safely waked ? And why so sweetly slept ? And wherefore do I live and breathe ? And wherefore have I still The mind to know, the sense to choose, The strength to do Thy will ? 46 Is it, to waste another day In folly, sin, and shame > To give to these my heart and hand, And spurn my Maker's claim ? Is it, for honour, wealth, or power My heaven-born soul to sell ? Is it, to grasp at pleasure's flowers Upon the brink of hell ? Is it, to grow unto the world, As glides the world from me ; Be one day nearer to the grave, And farther, Lord, from Thee ? No 1 thus too many days I've spent ! To Thee, then, this be given : Teach what I owe to man below, And to Thyself in heaven. 47 O, bring me to my Saviour's cross For mercy for the past ; And make me live the coming day As if it were my last ! 48 EVENING. Sweet evening hour ! sweet evening hour ! That calms the air, and shuts the flower ; That brings the wild bee to his nest, The infant to its mother's breast. Sweet hour ! that bids the labourer cease ; That gives the weary team release, And leads them home, and crowns them there With rest and shelter, food and care. O season of soft sounds and hues, Of twilight walks among the dews, Of feelings calm, and converse sweet, And thoughts too shadowy to repeat ! 49 The weeping eye, that loathes the day, Finds peace beneath thy soothing sway ; And faith and prayer, o'ermastering grief, Burst forth, and bring the heart relief. Yes, lovely hour ! thou art the time When feelings flow, and wishes climb ; When timid souls begin to dare, And God receives and answers prayer. Then trembling through the dewy skies Look out the stars, like thoughtful eyes Of angels, calm reclining there, And gazing on this world of care. Then, as the earth recedes from sight, Heaven seems to ope her fields of light, And call the fettered soul above, From sin and grief, to peace and love. 50 Sweet hour ! for heavenly musing made- When Isaac walked, and Daniel prayed ; When Abram's offering God did own ; And Jesus loved to be alone . Who has not felt that Evening's hour Draws forth devotion's tenderest power ; That guardian spirits round us stand, And God himself seems most at hand ? The very birds cry shame on men, And chide their selfish silence, then : The flowers on high their incense send ; And earth and heaven unite and blend. Let others hail the rising day : I praise it when it fades away ; When life assumes a higher tone, And God and heaven are all my own. 51 INVOCATION. ALTERED FROM QVARLES. Spirits of light and love, who pace around The city's sapphire walls ; whose stainless feet Measure the gem-paved paths of sacred ground, And trace the New Jerusalem's jasper street ! Ah you, whose overflowing hearts are crowned With your best wishes ; who enjoy the sweet Of all your hopes ; when next ye come before My absent Lord, O say how I implore From his reviving eye one look of kindness more. Tell Him, O tell Him, how my widowed breast Beneath the burden of His frown has pined : Tell Him, O tell Him, how I He oppressed In all the tempest of a troubled mind. E 2 52 O tell Him, tell Him, I can know no rest Till he shall smile, as once, appeased and kind. Tell Him, I think upon the vows He sware — His love, His truth, His grace — and thus I dare To come before Him now with penitence and prayer. Say, the parched soil desires not so the shower To quicken and refresh her embryo grain ; Say, the fallen crestlet of the drooping flower Wooes not the bounty of the genial rain, As my lorn spirit looks out for the hour When her lost Lord shall visit her again. Then, gentle spirits, should He hear your lays, And seem to melt, your best Hosannahs raise ; And with your heavenly notes sustain my feeble praise. 53 UNTO THEE." Wilt Thou return to me, O Lord, If I return to Thee ? O cheering truth ! O blessed word ! My Hope and Refuge be ! Since from Thy foot I dared to roam, My soul has found no rest. Chastised and contrite, back I come, To seek it in Thy breast. And dost Thou say Thou wilt receive, And call me still Thy own ? My spirit, hear, accept, believe ! And melt, my heart of stone ! 54 Again that gracious word to me ! O speak that word again ! My guilt is pardoned ? — can it be ? — And loosed my every chain ? No, blessed Lord ; not every chain, Not every bond, remove 1 Let one, at least, unloosed remain — The bond of grateful love. FLY, YE HOURS.— For Music. Fly, ye hours, the best, the brightest : Best are they that fleet the lightest ! Man, be wise : Thy dearest joys Are poor, compared with those thou slightest. The world we roam Is not our home : We seek a rest that aye remaineth. Through weal or woe, From all below We haste to scenes where nothing paineth. Fly, ye hours, &c. 56 It is not life, This toil and strife : These only serve from God to sever. We hope to rise Above the skies ; And there shall live, and live for ever. Fly, ye hours, &c. Can that be gain, Whose charms detain The soul from glory's richer treasures ? Can that be woe, That serves to throw A brighter hue o'er coming pleasures ? Fly, ye hours, the best, the brightest ! Thou that in the world delightest, Rise, O rise To nobler joys ; And taste the bliss which now thou slightest. 57 « WHITHER SHALL I FLY FROM THY PRESENCE?" Where shall I fly ? What dark untrodden path Will lead a sinner from his Maker's wrath ? Alas ! where'er I bend my outcast way, His eye can search, His mighty hand hath sway. Is there no island in the depths of space, No distant world, where I may shun his chace ? Ah no ! Of all He is the spring and soul : All feel His care, all own His high controul. But there is night : — perhaps her murky womb May wrap and hide me in its depths of gloom ? No : He that says, " Be light, and there is light," Can look Omniscience thro' the dunnest night. 58 Give me then morning's wings : I'll fling me where The desert waste ne'er claims His eye or care. Vain hope ! If He were absent, conscience then Would act the God, and scare me back to men. Well then the ocean : She my head shall hide, And quench his bolts in her o'ersheltering tide. Fool ! the dark waves cleave wide at His command ; And, lo, He walks them as He walks the land. What say the rocks ? Stern marble, ope thy breast, And lock me in to monumental rest. Vain, vain ! His voice the rocks have often heard ; Nay, worlds dissolve before His lightest word. Be death then mine ! At least the grave, or hell, Will yield some sullen nook where I may dwell. No : the last trump shall burst the bars of death ; And God's stern presence felt makes hell beneath. 59 Where then to flee ? how shun His arm, His eye ? Where find what earth, and heaven, and hell deny ? How pass beyond His infinite patrol, Who fills, pervades, informs the mighty whole ? O where to flee ? There is but one retreat — Tis that which brings me contrite to his feet : A change of heart, and not a change of place, That flees from Justice to the arms of Grace. The Saviour calls : ' ■ Come, trembler, to My breast ; " Beneath My cross thou may'st securely rest : " Washed in My blood, thy guilt will all remove ; " And wrath eternal grow Eternal Love." (10 AUTUMNAL HYMN. The leaves around me falling Are preaching of decay ; The hollow winds are calling, " Come, pilgrim, come away ! " The day, in night declining, Says, I must too decline : The year its life resigning — Its lot foreshadows mine. The light my path surrounding, The loves to which I cling, The hopes within me bounding, The joys that round me wing — 61 All, all, like stars at even, Just gleam, and shoot away ; Pass on before to heaven, And chide at my delay. The friends gone there before me Are calling me from high, And joyous angels o'er me Tempt sweetly to the sky. " Why wait," they say, " and wither " 'Mid scenes of death and sin ? " O rise to glory hither, " And find true life begin ! " I hear the invitation, And fain would rise and come- A sinner, to salvation ; An exile, to his home : But while I here must linger, Thus, thus, let all I see Point on, with faithful finger, To heaven, O Lord, and Thee, 63 PARTED CHRISTIANS. When reft of the converse of those that they love, The godless may fret and repine : Tis ours to look up to a Father above, And try to His will to resign. The friends in a Saviour need not be deplored. Wherever their lot may be cast : Tho' severed on earth, we are one in the Lord, And shall meet in His presence at last. Our Guardian all-wise and all-merciful is ; He knows, and will give us, the best : Assured we shall still be each other's and His, To Him we relinquish the rest, 64 We each commend each to Omnipotent hands, And calm on His promise repose -, And know that, though scattered o'er seas and o'er lands, We are sure to reach home at the close. Meanwhile, we kneel down at the same Throne of Grace ; We breathe up the same daily prayer j We march the same road to the same happy place, The same Spirit guiding us there. Sweet hope realizes the things that shall be, And memory those that have been ; And, feeding by these on what sense cannot see, We lose the dark present between. We strive to be all that the absent would love j To flee from what they would condemn ; Intent, when we meet, upon earth or above, To be found the more worthy of them. u: With aims so exalted, and trust so secure, All else is in lovely accord, All holy, all happy, all peaceful and pure.— O, who would not love in the Lord ? 66 ELLEN. She rests beneath her native earth, Close to the spot that gave her birth. Her young feet trod the flowers that bloom- Meet emblems — on her early tomb : Her living voice was wont to cheer The echoes which our sorrows hear. She rests beneath her native earth ; And few remain to speak her worth. Her little sojourn here was spent In unobtrusive banishment : A flower upon the desert thrown, That lived and breathed to God alone. 67 Yet long her gentle ways shall dwell In hearts that knew and loved her well ; And oft they lift their tearful eyes, To hear her calling from the skies ; And ill could they her absence bear, But that they hope to join her there. i <2 68 SPARE MY FLOWER. O spare my flower, my gentle flower, The slender creature of a day ! Let it bloom out its little hour, And pass away. Too soon its fleeting charms must lie Decayed, unnoticed, overthrown. O hasten not its destiny, — Too like thy own. The breeze will roam this way to-morrow, And sigh to find his playmate gone : The bee will come its sweets to borrow, And meet with none. 69 O spare ! and let it still outspread Its beauties to the passing eye, And look up from its lowly bed Upon the sky. O spare my flower ! Thou know'st not what Thy undiseerning hand would tear : A thousand charms thou notest not Lie treasured there. Not Solomon, in all his state, Was clad like Nature's simplest child ; Nor could the world combined create One floweret wild. Spare, then, this humble monument Of an Almighty's power and skill ; And let it at His shrine present Its homage still. 70 He made it who makes nought in vain He watches it who watches thee ; And He can best its date ordain Who bade it be. O spare my flower — for it is frail ; A timid, weak, imploring thing — And let it still upon the gale Its moral fling. That moral thy reward shall be : Catch the suggestion, and apply : — " Go, live like me," it cries ; " like me " Soon, soon to die." 71 ASPIRATIONS. I would not always sail Upon a sunny sea : The mountain wave, the sounding gale. Have deeper joys for me. Let others love to creep Along the flowery dell : Be mine upon the craggy steep, Among the storms, to dwell. The rock, the mist, the foam, J The wonderful, the wild — I feel they form my proper home, And claim me for their child. The whirlwind's rushing wing The stern volcano's voice, To me an awful rapture bring : I tremble, and rejoice. I love thy solemn roar, Thou deep, eternal sea, Sounding along from shore to shore The boundless and the free. I love the flood's hoarse song, The thunder's lordly mirth, The midnight wind, that walks along The hushed and trembling earth j The mountain, lone and high, The dark and silent wood, The desert stretched from sky to sky In awful solitude. A presence and a power In scenes like these I see : The stilness of a midnight hour Has eloquence for me. Then, bursting earth's control, My thoughts are all at flood : I feel the stirrings in my soul Of an immortal mood. My energies expand ; My spirit looks abroad j And, midst the terrible and grand, Feels nearer to her God. Let others tamely weigh The danger and the pain : I do not shrink the price to pay. To share the joy and gain. 74 WINTER. The billowy shore is booming loud, The sky is black with storm and cloud, The fields are bare, the air is chill, And winter reigns from vale to hill. The shortening day, the muffled sky, The wild wind whistling bleakly by, The naked field, the leafless tree, Speak, mortal man, speak all to thee. They talk of sin, they talk of woe, Of ruin wrought to all below ; They taunt the author of their doom, And point him onward to the tomb. 75 The waves lift up their voice -, the woods Make solemn answer to the floods : They bid us stand abased and awed, And own an Omnipresent God. Calm on the tempest's hurrying wings He walks abroad o'er earth, and flings, Unmoved by elemental din, His scourges o'er a world of sin. Almighty ! be it mine to lie Adoring as Thou passest by, And hear Thee at the close proclaim The gentler glories of Thy name ! The fire, the earthquake, and the wind ; In these my God I would not find ; But in the Voice still, small, and dim, That speaks of Christ, and peace through Him. 76 MY BELOVED IS MINE, AND I AM HIS." Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest ; Far did I rove, and found no certain home : At last I sought them in His sheltering breast, Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come. With Him I found a home, a rest divine ; And I since then am His, and He is mine. Yes, He is mine ! and nought of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine ! Go ! I my Saviour's am, and He is mine. 77 The good I have is from His stores supplied ; The ill is only what He deems the best. He for my friend, I'm rich with nought beside ; And poor without him, though of all possessed. Changes may come — I take, or I resign, Content, while I am His, while He is mine. Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen, A glorious sun, that wanes not, nor declines : Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, And sweetly on His people's darkness shines. All may depart — I fret not nor repine, While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. He stays me falling ; lifts me up when down ; Reclaims me wandering; guards from every foe; Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown, Which in return before His feet I throw, Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 76 MY BELOVED IS MINE, AND I AM HIS." Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest ; Far did I rove, and found no certain home : At last I sought them in His sheltering breast, Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come. With Him I found a home, a rest divine ; And I since then am His, and He is mine. Yes, He is mine ! and nought of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power, The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings, Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine ! Go ! I my Saviour's am, and He is mine. 77 The good I have is from His stores supplied ; The ill is only what He deems the best. He for my friend, I'm rich with nought beside ; And poor without him, though of all possessed. Changes may come — I take, or I resign, Content, while I am His, while He is mine. Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen, A glorious sun, that wanes not, nor declines : Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, And sweetly on His people's darkness shines. All may depart — I fret not nor repine, While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine. He stays me falling ; lifts me up when down ; Reclaims me wandering; guards from every foe; Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown, Which in return before His feet I throw, Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine. 78 While here, alas ! I know but half His love, But half discern Him, and but half adore ; But when I meet Him in the realms above, I hope to love Him better, praise Him more, And feel, and tell, amid the choir divine, How fully I am His, and He is mine ! 79 A SUMMER DAY IN WINTER. The winter wears a summer hue — The sun is on the wave ; The sky is one unclouded blue $ The winds forget to rave j The feathery frost melts fast away From every glittering stem ; And cottage eaves in morning's ray Are dropping gold and gem. That ray the silver feet unlocks, Of all the tiny floods j They leap again down o'er their rocks. And prattle through the woods. 80 The cattle in the field rejoice, The birds upon the wing, And from the brake a doubtful voice Half warbles, Welcome Spring ! The wave that flew o'er yester cliff, Is sleeping 'neath it now ; And from its creek the summer skiff Steals out with timid prow. The anchored ships, their voyage o'er, Shake out their sails to dry : The fisher spreads his nets on shore, Beneath the glowing sky. The old man from his chimney nook Creeps out into the sun : All Nature wears her own sweet look Of spring-tide just begun. 81 O earth, all fallen as thou art, How soon thy darkest day Can into life and beauty start Beneath thy monarch's ray ! And is there not a ray that makes As bright a day within, When Jesus through His Gospel breaks On nature's night of sin ? The Sun of Righteousness ascends j The clouds and storms depart ; And heaven-born Grace implants and tends Her Eden in the heart. Bright are such joys ; but brief and base To those which Heaven supplies j A summer smile on winter's face, A gleam through clouded skies. G I would not spurn these wayside flowers, That strew my pathway home ; But look through all to brighter hours, And long to see them come. 83 JESUS WEPT." ENLARGED FROM SEDDOME. Did Christ o'er sinners weep ? And shall our cheeks be dry ? Let floods of penitential grief Burst forth from every eye. The Son of God in tears The angels wondering see : Hast thou no wonder, O my soul ? He shed those tears for thee ! He wept that we might weep, Might weep our sin and shame He wept to shew His love for us, And bid us love the same. g2 84 Then tender be our hearts, Our eyes in sorrow dim, Till every tear from every eye Is wiped away by Him ! 85 TIME PASSES ON. Time passes on, Time passes on ; And I and mine will soon be gone From this bright busy world away To darkness, silence, and the clay. This active hand, this fluent tongue, Shall be alike by death unstrung ; And all my faculties and powers Decline and drop, like summer flowers. Be mine, ere that stern hour shall come Which calls me to my last, long home, To seek my soul's eternal good, To serve the God I've long withstood. 86 Be mine, not wholly to mispend The hours He yet may deign to lend ; But far from sin and folly flee, And live to Him who died for me : To cast my offering at His feet, And blush it is not more complete -, My past omissions to supply, And do some little ere I die. Soon must I meet Him on His throne. And guess His feelings from my own ; My judgment from His lips receive, And hear the sentence, " Die," or " Live ! Lord, on my thoughts this scene impress, To teach me this world's littleness, To win me from its vain controul, And raise and fix my grovelling soul. 87 With faith and love my bosom fill ; Dispose me to Thy gracious will ; And help me here on earth to rise To the high functions of the skies. THE WALL-FLOWER. Why loves my flower, so high reclined Upon these walls of barren gloom, To waste her sweetness on the wind, And far from every eye to bloom ? Why joy to twine with golden braid This ruined rampart's aged head, Proud to expose her gentle form, And swing her bright locks in the storm ? That lonely spot is bleak and hoar, Where prints my flower her fragrant kiss j Yet sorrow hangs not fonder o'er The ruins of her faded bliss. 89 And wherefore will she thus inweave The owl's lone couch, and feel at eve The wild bat o'er her blossoms fling, And strike them down with heedless wing ? Thus, gazing on the loftiest tower Of ruined Fore at eventide, The Muse addressed a lonely flower* That bloomed above in summer pride. The Muse's eye, the Muse's ear, Can more than others see and hear : The breeze of evening murmured by, And gave, she deemed, this faint reply : On this lone tower, so wild and drear, " Mid storms and clouds I love to lie, Because I find a freedom here " Which prouder haunts could ne'er supply. 90 " Safe on these walls I sit, and stem 1 ' The elements that conquered them -, " And, raised sublime o'er chance or foe, " Smile on an anxious world below. Though envied place I may not claim :c On warrior's crest, or lady's hair $ Though tongue may never speak my name, " Nor eye behold and own me fair ; To Him, who tends me from the sky, I spread my beauties here on high, And bid the winds to waft above My incense to His throne of love. • c And though in hermit solitude, " Aloft and wild, my home I choose, ' On the rock's bosom pillowed rude, " And nurtured by the falling dews 5 91 Yet duly with the opening year I hang my golden mantle here. A child of God's I am, and He Sustains, and clothes, and shelters me. " Nor deem my state without its bliss : " Mine is the first young smile of day ; " Mine the light zephyr's earliest kiss ; " And mine the skylark's matin lay. " These are my joys : with these on high " In peace I hope to live and die, " And drink the dew, and scent the breeze, " As blithe a flower as Flora sees." Bloom on, sweet moralist ! Be thine The softest shower, the brightest sun ! Long o'er a world of error shine, And teach them what to seek and shun ! 92 Bloom on, and shew the simple glee That dwells with those who dwell like thee ; From noise, and glare, and folly driven, To thought, retirement, peace, and heaven. Shew them, in thine, the Christian's lot, So dark and drear in worldly eyes ; And yet he would exchange it not For all they most pursue and prize. From meaner cares and trammels free, He soars above the world, like thee ; And, fed and nurtured from above, Returns the debt in grateful love. Frail, like thyself, fair flower, is he, And beat by every storm and shower ; Yet on a Rock he stands, like thee, And braves the tempest's wildest power. 93 And there he blooms, and gathers still A good from every seeming ill ; And, pleased with what his lot has given, He lives to God, and looks to heaven, 94 JEHOVAH-JIREH. When earthly joys glide swift away, When hopes and comforts flee, When foes beset, and friends betray, I turn, my God, to Thee ! Thy nature, Lord, no change can know ; Thy promise still is sure 5 And ills can ne'er so hopeless grow But Thou canst find a cure. Deliverance comes most bright and blest At danger's darkest hour ; And man's extremity is best To prove Almighty power. 95 High as Thou art, Thou still art near When suppliants succour crave ; And as Thine ear is swift to hear, Thy arm is strong to save. 96 THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. u Ble.*sed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." Psalm xxxii. Blest is the broken, bleeding heart, Once taught for sin to ache ! Soon Heavenly Hands shall bind it up, No more to bleed or break. Blest are the eyes, whose burning tears O'er past transgressions fall ! The Sun of Righteousness shall rise, To dry, or light them all. That broken heart, that tearful eye, That pensive pilgrim guise, Are Heaven's own gifts, and more than all That worldlings seek or prize. 97 Who has them, claims and titles has Which none beside can own ; Pledges of more than eye hath seen, Or heart conceived or known. Through cloud and sunshine, storm and calm, He on to glory goes, With hope to light him o'er his way, And bliss to crown its close. The wise may slight, the proud may shun ; His God is with him still, And adds a zest to all his joys, And lightens every ill. Through Him he daily triumphs gains O'er Satan, self, and sin ; Through Him new blessings smile without, New joy and peace within. H 98 A coal from heaven has touched his lips, And filled his mouth with song ; And Faith and Love spring forth to waft His fainting steps along. He goes, he goes, his fadeless crown From Christ's own hand to win ! The angels throng round heaven's high gate, To hail the stranger in ! The silver cord is loosed at last, The fettered soul takes wing ; Assumes its station fast by God, His ceaseless praise to sing. 99 THE PILGRIM'S SONG. " There remaineth a rest for the people of God."— Hcb. iv. My rest is in heaven ; my rest is not here ; Then why should I murmur when trials are near ? Be hushed, my dark spirit! the worst that can come But shortens thy journey, and hastens thee home. It is not for me to be seeking my bliss And building my hopes in a region like this : I look for a city which hands have not piled ; I pant for a country by sin undefiled. The thorn and the thistle around me may grow ; I would not lie down upon roses below : I ask not my portion, I seek not a rest, Till I find them for ever in Jesus's breast. h2 100 Afflictions may damp me, they cannot destroy ; One glimpse of His love turns them all into joy : And the bitterest tears, if He smile but on them, Like dew in the sunshine, grow diamond and gem. Let doubt then, and danger, my progress oppose ; They only make heaven more sweet at the close. Come joy, or come sorrow, whate'er may befal, An hour with my God will make up for it all. A scrip on my back, and a staff in my hand, I march on in haste through an enemy's land : The road may be rough, but it cannot be long ; And I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with TO A BLADE OF GRASS. Poor little twinkler in the sun, That liftest here thy modest head For every breeze to blow upon, And every passing foot to tread ; The loneliest waste, the humblest bower, Content in homely green to dress, And wear away thy little hour In meek unheeded usefulness ; No hues of thine attract the eye, No sweets allure the roving bee, Nor deigns the dainty butterfly To rest his wing on lowly thee. 102 All undistinguished and forgot Among the myriads of thy kind, The moral of thy tranquil lot Thou wastest on the idle wind. Be mine,, while others pass thee by, To win and wear thee in my strain 3 And from thy gentle teaching try A lesson for my heart to gain. While brighter children of the sun With altering seasons droop and die, I see thee green and gladsome run Through all the changes of the sky. Where vegetative life begins, Thy little flag is first unfurled, And marks the empire Nature wins From desolation round the world. 103 Yes 3 Nature claims thee for her own ; Her thousand children house with thee : An insect world, to eye unknown, Peoples thy coverts blithe and free. The partridge, 'midst her speckled brood, Leans upon thee her cowering breast ; Thou giv'st the field-mouse home and food ; Thou curtain' st round the sky-lark's nest. Thou feed'st the honest steer by day, Thou strew' st at night his open bed ; The young lamb, in his morning play, Strikes down the dew-drop from thy head. O ever pleasing, ever plain, Creation's goodly household vest ! By thee is fringed the ruined fane, By thee the poor man's grave is drest. 104 The pilgrim of the sandy waste, The roamer of the long, long sea, The sick room's or the dungeon's guest — 'Tis his, 'tis his, to value thee. Green soother of the burning eye, Thou speak' st of sweet and simple things - Of freedom, health, and purity, And all that buxom Nature brings. Be mine to dwell with her, with thee ; At eventide the fields to roam 5 My God among His works to see, And call my wandering spirit home : And, while I view the Hand that tends Ten thousand worlds so kind to thee, To feel that He who so descends Will not o'erlook a worm like me. 105 A FALLEN SISTER. " The maid is not dead, but sleepeth." She is not dead — she only sleeps : Life in her soul its vigil keeps : Though dark the cloud, though strong the chain. Speak, Lord, and she shall live again ! She is not dead : — it cannot be That one, whose soul so glowed to Thee, Should now her Lord renounce, forget : speak, and she will hear Thee yet. 1 know, I know how once she felt ; Have seen her spirit mount and melt ; Have joined with her in praise and prayer 3 And cannot, dare not, yet despair. 106 She, that has fed on heavenly food, Conversed with all that's great and good, Can she descend from heights like these To the poor worldling's husks and lees ? She, that has bent at Heaven's high throne, And claimed its glories for her own, An earthworm here again to crawl ? — She cannot long so deeply fall. I know how many for her feel, And plead with Thee to come and heal : I know the power of faith and prayer, And cannot, will not, yet despair. Sunk as she is in thoughtless sin, Thou hast a still, small voice within — A silent hold — a hidden plea — That needs but quickening, Lord, from Thee. 107 A look of Thine can life impart ; A tone of Thine can touch the heart : The very graves Thy voice must hear : O bid it reach our sister's ear ! Press on her soul each pang and scorn, Which Thou for her on earth hast borne j And ask how she will dare to meet Thy face upon a Judgment-seat. Talk to her heart, and bid her feel 5 Send forth Thy word, to wound and heal ; Melt off her spirit's icy chain, And bid her rise and live again. She is not dead : Thy voice Divine Can still revive, and seal her Thine ; And neath Thy wing she yet may dwell, More meek, more safe, than ere she fell. 108 THE SAILOR'S MEDITATION, ON WATCH AT NIGHT. Above me hangs the silent sky ; Around me rolls the sea ; The crew is all at rest ; and I Am, Lord, alone with Thee ! Go where I may, from all remote, Still Thou art ever near : No secret thought, but Thou canst note j No word, but Thou canst hear. When all around are sunk to sleep, Thy presence here I find : To me Thou walkest o'er the deep, Or speakest in the wind. 109 I look up to the starry sky ; Thou livest, shinest there : I look down to myself, and sigh, " Can I be still Thy care ? " I think of days and dangers past, When I have found Thee nigh ; And wonder how Thy love can last To such a worm as I. I think of terrors yet at hand, Of Judgment, and the tomb ; And ask my soul how it shall stand To hear its final doom ! Ah, then, how all I've been and done Would fill me with despair, If to the Cross I could not run, And find a Saviour there ! 110 I know He has the power to aid ; I know He has the will : And He, who once for sinners bled,, Will rescue sinners still. Lord, arm my soul with faith in Thee, And fill my heart with love ; My path from sin and danger free, And guide me safe above. And while at night the waves I beat, Lord, often thus descend, And grant me here communion sweet With Thee, the sailor's Friend ! Ill SHE IS GONE ! SHE IS GONE! She is gone ! she is gone ! A God of love Has called her up to His side above ; Has gathered the flower in all its prime, And bade it bloom in a brighter clime ; Has filled her hand with a heavenly lyre, And found her a place in His angel choir. She is gone ! She is gone to a land of light, Where the glorious day ne'er sinks in night ; Where a cloud ne'er comes across the sky ; Where the tears are wiped from every eye ; Where all is holiness, love, and bliss, And none regret such a world as this. 112 She is gone ! she is gone ! She passed away Like the dying close of a summer day : A dawn of glory around her shone, A light shot down from the Heavenly Throne : The last of her breath in song was spent, And forth in a smile her spirit went. She is gone ! She is gone to her high reward, To bask in the looks of her wished-for Lord. She gained one peep through the golden gate ; She saw the Seraphim for her wait ; And sprang from sorrow and sin away To dwell in the light of eternal day. She is gone ! she is gone ! And who would chain Her soul to a world like ours again ? But O the blank, the desolate void, In hearts that her converse here enjoyed ! They long from all upon earth to sever, And be with their loved and lost for ever. 113 She is gone ! She is gone but a while before ; She waits for them at the heavenly door : They hear her calling them up on high ; They feel her drawing them on to the sky j And pray, at their parting hour to be As ripe, as ready, as blessed as she. 114 FLOWERS. Children of dew and sunshine, balmy flowers ! Ye seem like creatures of a heavenly mold That linger in this fallen earth of ours, Fair relics of her Paradise of old. Amidst her tombs and ruins, gentle things, Ye smile and glitter in celestial bloom ; Like radiant feathers dropped from angel wings, Or tiny rainbows of a world of gloom. Yes ; there is heaven about you : in your breath And hues it dwells. The stars of earth ye shine ; Bright strangers in a land of sin and death, That talk of God, and point to realms divine. 115 O mutely eloquent ! the heart may read In books like you, in tinted leaf or wing, Fragrance, and music, lessons that exceed The formal lore that graver pages bring. Ye speak of frail humanity : ye tell How man, like you, shall nourish and shall fall. But, ah ! ye speak of Heavenly Love as well, And say, the God of flowers is God of all. While Faith in you her Maker's goodness views Beyond her utmost need, her boldest claim, She catches something of your smiles and hues, Forgets her fears, and glows and smiles the Childhood and you are playmates j matching well Your sunny cheeks, and mingling fragrant breath. Ye help young Love his faltering tale to tell ; Ye scatter sweetness o'er the bed of Death. i 2 116 Sweet flowers, sweet flowers, be mine to dwell with you ! Ye talk of song and sunshine, hope and love : Ye breathe of all bright things, and lead us through The best of earth to better still above. Sweet flowers, sweet flowers ! the rich exuberance Of Nature's heart in her propitious hours : When glad emotions in her bosom dance, She vents her happiness in laughing flowers. I love you, when along the fields in spring Your dewy eyes look countless from the turf ■ I love you, when from summer boughs you swing, As light and silvery as the ocean surf. I love your earliest beauties, and your last : Come when you may, you still are welcome here ; Flinging your sweets on Autumn's dying blast, Or weaving chaplets for the infant year. 117 I love your gentle eyes and smiling faces, Bright with the sun, or wet with balmy showers ; Your looks and language in all times and places, In lordly gardens, or in woodland bowers. But most, sweet flowers, I love you, when ye talk As Jesus taught you when He o'er you trod ; And, mingling smiles and morals, bid us walk Content o'er earth to glory and to God. 1«20 RECOLLECTIONS. 'Twas a sweet April morning : I traversed the glade Where my light foot in infancy often had played : Each object recalled to my lingering view The hours that there once so delightfully flew. Dear scenes of enchantment, for ever gone by ! How brightly they danced before memory's eye ! I numbered their fugitive blisses all o'er : They were flown, and I sighed I had prized them no more. O why is it thus, that we never discover The worth of our joys till possession is over ? That we only can gaze on the sun of delight, When its fast-fading glories are setting in night ? 121 All aimless and wild as the zephyr, we fleet O'er a thousand fair flowrets that smile at our feet: Though they lure us to pluck them, and woo us to stay, We trample, we slight them, and flutter away. Then, when life brings its crosses, its cares, and its fears, When disaster beside and before us appears, Then we pause, and look back, and our folly discern ; Then we prize, bless, and weep what can never return. When all that hope hung on for comfort is flown, When delights from the past must be gathered alone, How dimly they shine through the distance of years ! How ill can they chase present shadows and tears ! 122 Woe, woe to the heart, that is destined to ache In a world whose gay bustle it loathes to partake ! Where nothing is left that is moving or dear, That can light up a smile, or elicit a tear !. When conscience is sickened on looking within, When without there is little to wish or to win, When Memory shrinks back from the things that have been, And Hope looking onward grows pale at the scene, O where to find comfort ? O whither to fly, Scarce wishing to live, and yet dreading to die ? Thus helpless, thus reckless, pierced, lost, un- forgiven ; Heart-broken on earth, and desponding of heaven! Lord, Thou canst give light in the hour of despair ; Canst ease us of anguish, or teach us to bear : And good is the pressure of pain and distress, If they lead us to Jesus to heal and to bless. 123 Tis good that our props should from 'neath us be fled, If we drop into Arms Everlasting instead ; That thistles and thorns in our pathway should rise, If they send us but on for repose to the skies. When all else is changing within and around, In God and His goodness no change can be found. In giving or taking His end is the same, His creatures to quicken, exalt, and reclaim. Such terrors to drive, and such love to allure, Lord, add but Thy grace, and the issue is sure. My trials may thicken, my comforts may flee ; I'm rich amid ruin with heaven and Thee, 124 THE WORLD RENOUNCED. Go, worthless world ! I've tried and found Thy hollowness at last : I know thee now an empty sound, And spurn at all thou hast. Thy smiles, thy flatteries, thy deceit, I've scanned them o'er and o'er. Go, other hearts to snare and cheat ; Thou holdest mine no more. I've been thy dupe, I've been thy scoff; For years I've worn thy chain : My Saviour came and called me off, And I am free again j 125 Free with the freedom Christ bestows ; Divinely, greatly free 5 Redeemed from follies, sins, and woes 3 Redeemed, false world, from thee ! Still must I linger 'mid thy slaves A stranger yet a while j Must toss on thy uncertain waves, And meet thy specious smile : The scoffs of pride, the snares of sense, Must still my firmness try ; Till Christ returns to call me hence To peace with Him on high. I know me weak, and prone to fall j Yet know, with Him my friend, I still may pass unhurt through all To glory in the end. 126 And while my sojourn here I make, This, this my maxim be, To love mankind for Jesus' sake, And spurn, false world, at thee. 127 "IS THIS THY KINDNESS TO THY FRIEND V O think, how He, whom thou hast wounded, Hast scourged, and scorned, and spit upon, Hath paid thy ransom, and compounded For thy distresses with His own ! How He, whose blood thy sins have spilt, Whose limbs they to the Cross have nailed, Hath freely borne thy load of guilt, And made supply where thou hast failed. He died, to save thy soul from dying ; Was bound Himself, to set thee free ; And where there was no power of flying, He came, and met the blow for thee : 128 And all this dying Friend requires, For all His pity, all His pain, Are simple aims, and pure desires, And for His love like love again. O loose then, Lord, my tardy tears, And break this fleshly rock asunder, x\nd on my night of doubts and fears Pour a new day of joy and wonder. This deadness from my soul remove ; Melt down my icy unbelief ; Let grief add feeling to my love, And love pluck out the sting from grief. Then rise, poor earthworm, from the dust ; Enjoy thy new and large condition j Walk with thy God in humble trust, And ripen for His full fruition. 129 No more rebellious, dark, exiled, Adore, and love, and praise Him rather ; Return a lost, but contrite, child, And find a kind, forgiving Father ! 130 THE INFANT'S ADDRESS TO DEPARTING DAY-LIGHT. Beautiful Day-light, stay, O stay, Nor fly from the world and me away, To darken the skies, so blue and bright, And take the green fields from my lonely sight. No birds then will talk to me from the tall tree, Nor flowers appear looking and laughing on me. Kind voices I hear, and kind faces I view j But I can't talk with them, little birds, as with you : I know not their language, their ways, and their looks, Nor care for their candles, chairs, tables, and books. Then, beautiful Day-light, fly not yet ! Few suns have I ever seen rise or set ; 131 And when each day with its pleasures is o'er, I fear they will never come back any more. A stranger I am in this world below, And have much of its wonders to mark and know : I want to see more of each new fairy scene, To trace sounds and objects, and learn what they mean -, To gaze on the features of her in whose breast I am fed, and folded, and sung to rest, Who kisses me softly, and calls me her dear ; And all the new friends that are kind to me here. Then stay, sweet Day-light, mine eyes to bless ! I know Night little, and love it still less. The place that I came from had nothing of shade. In beauty and glory for ever arrayed : There angel forms were smiling and singing, And waving their wings in the day-light springing From God's own face, like a fountain flowing With rays sun and moon must fail in bestowing. k 2 132 I scarcely remember that land of bliss j But I love what is brightest and purest in this ! And if upon one of those clouds I could lie, That have run to the verge of the western sky, And there, in rosy companionship seated, Look down on the sun from earth retreated 5 If aloft in its bright fleecy folds I could lay me, And call on the winds through the skies to convey me, I'd ride round the world, the perennial attendant On Day-light, wherever it shone most resplendent; Over hills, over fogs, I would take my glad flight, And bathe and revel in rivers of light. The moon and the stars I would leave behind ; Nor stoop any object on earth to mind ; Unless for her baby dear mother should cry : Then I'd glide down to tell her how happy was I ; I'd kiss off her tears, and wish her good day, And again on my travels away, away ! 133 Sweet bird, thy suit it is vain to press, The Day-light heeds not thy fond address : On glittering pinion away he hies, To heed other wishes, and light other skies : The will of his God he goes to obey, Nor at earthly bidding will haste or stay. A child of light, sweet bird, thou art now, Nor needest a veil for thy conscious brow : No deeds thy tiny hands have done Need fear the broad eye of the flaring sun -, And the pleasant and pure of this world of woe, Is all thy delicate spirit can know. But ah, my baby ! the day may appear When the light shall be loathed as it now is dear ; When thy red-rolling eye, that can weep no more, The relief of night shall in vain implore ! The billows and storms of a heart-breaking world O'er each young illusion too soon may be hurled ; May wring thee, may wreck thee, till all is riven, But the friendship of God and the refuge of heaven. 134 Yet, baby, my baby, if these shall be thine, Thou' It not want a spot where thy head may recline ; Thou'lt not want a light in this world of dismay To guide thee from danger, or solace thy way : The bright Sun of Righteousness never declines, The light of the Gospel eternally shines, Adds zest to our joys, plucks the sting from our woes, Lends peace to our life, and joy to its close. This light, my boy, be it thine to prize ! It ne'er will withdraw from thy favored eyes : Come joy, or come sorrow, the same it will stay, And shine more and more to the perfect day; Till grace is glory, and faith is sight, And God, as at first, 'mid His sons of light, Receives His homage of song and love, And thou art with Him for ever above. 135 " IT IS I : BE NOT AFRAID." Loud was the wind, and wild the tide ; The ship her course delayed : The Lord came to their help, and cried, " 'Tis I : be not afraid." Who walks the waves in wondrous guise, By Nature's laws unstaid ? " 'Tis I," a well-known voice replies j " 'Tis I : be not afraid." He mounts the deck : down lulls the sea ; The storm is all allayed ; The prostrate crew adore ; and He Exclaims, " Be not afraid." 136 Thus, when the storm of life is high, Come, Saviour, to my aid ! Come, when no other help is nigh, And say, " Be not afraid." Speak, and my griefs no more are heard ; Speak, and my fears are laid ; Speak, and my soul shall bless the word, " Tis I : be not afraid." When on the bed of death I lie, And stretch my hands for aid, Stand Thou before my glazing eye, And say, " Be not afraid." Before Thy judgment-seat above When nature sinks dismayed, O cheer me with a word of love — "Tis I: be not afraid." 137 Worlds may around to wreck be driven, If then I hear it said, By Him who rules through earth and heaven, " Tis I : be not afraid ! " 138 INSCRIPTION ON A MONUMENT TO S— . P— . S-. What shall we write on this memorial stone ? Thy merits ? Thou didst rest on Christ's alone. Our sorrows rThou wouldst chide the selfishtear. Our love ? Alas, it needs no record here. Praise to thy God and ours ? His truth and love Are sung in nobler strains by thee above. What wouldst thou have us write ? — A voice is heard, — " Write, for each reader write, a warning word. " Bid him look well before him, and within ; " Talk to his heedless heart of death and sin j " And if at these he tremble, bid him flee " To Christ, and find Him all in all, like me," 139 THE PRAYER-ANSWERING GOD. I stand in a world where there's nothing my own, Where the lightest event is beyond my controul ; But to Him that is Ruler supreme and alone I gladly resign, for I know Him, the whole. How pleasant/mid changes and chances unthought, On His wisdom and love to disburthen our care ; And to know, that the God who disposes our lot Is a God that will hear and will answer our prayer! There are those that I love, far away from me now, And roaming through danger by shore and by sea ; And what were my feelings, my Father, if Thou Wert less than Almighty for them and for me ! 140 I cannot command the wild winds to be still ; I cannot compel the dark waves to forbear ; But One is above them who can, and who will : In Him I am strong, for He answereth prayer. Ah me ! I gaze round me, — and what are the smiles And the looks that give life all its zest and its soul ? Mortality claims them, and sternly reviles Affection's vain struggle against her control. I own it, I feel it ; and, humbled and awed, I still dare to love them, all frail as they are ; For I know we are both in the hands of our God, The Father of Jesus, the Hearer of prayer. Then here be my resting-place ! here I will sit Secure 'mid the shiftings of time and event ; For Fate has no power but what He may permit, And the Hand that must take is the same that hath lent. 141 On His wisdom and goodness I calmly rely ; Whate'er He assigns He can aid me to bear : He knows what is good for me better than I, And will give it, I hope, in despite of my prayer. 142 THE HEART IN TUNE. Be the heart in tune within, All without runs smooth and even, And earth's objects seem to win Something of the hues of heaven : Clouds from off our sky are flown ; All grows bright around and o'er us : Life acquires a loftier tone, And hope dances light before us : Music comes in every gale ; Flowers in all our paths are blowing ; Prosperous winds fill every sail j Tides are ever fair and flowing : 143 Time adds feathers to his wing ; Grief of half his load is lightened j Life's distresses lose their sting, And its every joy is heightened. Then the waste, where'er we roam, Gushes with refreshing fountains ; Then, between us and our home Ope the seas, and sink the mountains Faith is strong, and views are clear ; Foes or fears no more confound us ; Ministering angels near, And an Eden opening round us : Nature through her wide domain Quits her air of ruined sadness, Kindles into smiles again, Wakes anew to song and gladness : 144 God amid His works appears, Calls his creatures to adore Him j And this world of sin and tears Blossoms as the rose before Him. If His Gospel then be heard, Soon the inmost soul it reaches ; God speaks home in every word, Christ again in person teaches ; Every promise is applied, Power to every precept given j And the Spirit and the Bride Point and woo us on to heaven. Prayer and praise are easy then, From the soul spontaneous flowing j And with love to God and men Tenderly the heart is glowing. 145 All our duties lighter grow ; Pleasant seems the meanest station ; And from light to light we go To the fulness of salvation. Be our spirits ever such, Tuned into harmonious meetness, Till their chords to every touch Answer in some tone of sweetness 3 Quickened by celestial grace, Purified of earthy leaven, Shining, like the Prophet's face, With a glory caught from heaven. 146 DOMESTIC LOVE. -EXTRACT FROM J AT UNPUBLISHED POEM. How lovely is domestic harmony, Where mind on mind and heart on heart repose Undoubting ; and the friends, whom Providence Has cast together, sharing each with each Their hopes, their joys, their cares, appear to live One common life, and breathe one common will ! This fallen world brings forth no other flower So beautiful as this ; and where the love Of God is added to this love of man, Somewhat of heaven itself to earth descends. For what is heaven, but one immortal home, Where all are brother, Parent, child, or friend, 147 And all are happy, loving and beloved ? And what is hell, but the abode of hate And envy, where discordant elements Mingle, and hiss, and jar eternally ? Bright comes the morn and soft descends the night On the fair dwelling-place of love and peace $ And from the buffetings of this rude world Its happy inmates, like the wandering dove Home to her ark, for refuge there can fly. Prayer meets no hindrance there -, and praise from thence, Of hearts and lips in unison, ascends More acceptable to the God of love. The idol Self is from his throne cast down, And God set up instead ; and where He reigns There must be happiness, there must be heaven. l2 148 SAD THOUGHTS. Yes, I am calm, am humbled now ; The storm is rocked to rest 5 And I have learnt my head to bow, And count my lot the best. I would not struggle with my God, Or chide what He has given : Why should I murmur at the rod That drives me on to heaven ? Yet withering thoughts at times will break Across my calmer frame ; And then I feel how hearts may ache, Though still they bow the same. 149 Dark moods, too long and fondly nursed, Will o'er me come unsought : And thou, ah thou, beloved the first, To be the last forgot ! I meet thy pensive, moonlight face ; Thy thrilling voice I hear 5 And former hours and scenes retrace, Too fleeting, and too dear ! Then sighs and tears flow fast and free, Though none is nigh to share ; And life has nought beside for me So sweet as this despair. There are crushed hearts, that will not break 5 And mine, methinks, is one ; Or thus I should not weep and wake, And thou to slumber gone. 150 I little thought it thus could be In days more sad and fair — That earth could have a place for me, And thou no longer there. We met in childhood's morning road $ Our love with life began ; And on through years the current flowed, And deepened as it ran. Then choice and freedom were our own. Why was I silent then ? Why, when those days of hope were flown, Why met we e'er again ? Why dared I sit from day to day Beneath that thrilling eye ? Why rest within that syren sway, Till all in vain to fly ? 151 Too late, alas ! we found at last How dear was each to each, And prized the blessing, as it passed For ever from our reach. We dared not speak, we dared not think, Of what might else have been ; But sat and shuddered o'er the brink Of the dark gulf between. 'Twas vain, 'twas vain with bars to cope No force could e'er remove : They crushed, they withered every hope, But could not wither love. No : on we loved, and loved the same, Though little either said : It burned, that sad and secret flame, Like lamps among the dead. 152 I knew her heart was all my own ; She knew the same of mine ; Though caution guarded every tone, And checked each outward sign. To selves or others unexpressed, The truth within us waked — A conscious wound in either breast, That inly bled and ached. At last it came, the day to part ! And feelings, long repressed, In bitter shrift from heart to heart Were all at length expressed. That trying hour all barriers broke ; A phrensy o'er me fell : Spirit to spirit briefly spoke, And then — Farewell ! farewell ! 153 I clasped her wildly, and forgot All else beneath the sky. One kiss, — one look, — and she was not $ — And I — ah, what was I ? From that dark day I walked alone In this wide world of care, My widowed heart regardless grown Of aught that wooed it there. Its joys and griefs I learned to view Without a smile or sigh - } And nought seemed left me now to do, But lay me down and die. Bereavement was not long her dower 3 She feels no more its sway : She pined, she drooped, my severed flower ! And passed from earth away. 154 No plaint she breathed, no pain confessed, But calmly fell asleep. She stole into her grave for rest, And left me here to weep. While thou wert here, there was a hope, All dimly as it shone : 'Tis gone ! and I am left to cope With this cold world alone. Yet death cannot our hearts divide, Or make thee less my own. 'Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side Than watching here alone. Yet never, never can we part, While Memory holds her reign : Thine, thine is all this withered heart, Till we shall meet again. 155 That meet we shall, I do not fear : The thought was joy to thee : And I have now but little here To part my God and me. I feel, too, in my darkest mood, How much my soul has won : I know 'twas needful all, and good ; And say, "Thy will be done ! " Still, thoughts like these at times will come, My firmness to surprise. When shall I be with thee at home, Beyond the reach of sighs ? 156 PLEADING FOR MERCY. When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend, And plead with Thee for mercy there, Think of the sinner's dying Friend, And for His sake receive my prayer ! O think not of my shame and guilt, My thousand stains of deepest dye : Think of the blood which Jesus spilt, And let that blood my pardon buy. Think, Lord, how I am still Thy own, The trembling creature of Thy hand ; Think how my heart to sin is prone, And what temptations round me stand. 157 O think how blind and weak am I, How strong and wily are my foes : They wrestled with Thy hosts on high 5 And can a worm their might oppose ? O think upon Thy holy word, And every plighted promise there — How prayer should evermore be heard, And how Thy glory is to spare. O think not of my doubts and fears, My strivings with Thy grace divine : Think upon Jesus' woes and tears, And let His merits stand for mine. Thine eye, Thine ear, they are not dull ; Thine arm can never shortened be : Behold me here — my heart is full — Behold, and spare and succour me. 158 No claim, no merits, Lord, I plead -, I come a humbled, helpless slave : But, ah ! the more my guilty need, The more Thy glory, Lord, to save. 159 TO ELLEN, WEEPING IN CHURCH ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF H] FATHER'S DEATH, WHEN FIFTEEN YEARS OLD. Ah wherefore should the silent tear Down Ellen's youthful visage stray, When such a Hand unseen is near To wipe each falling drop away j A hand that bears a balm from high, For every earthly tear and sigh ? And wherefore mourn a parent's doom, When such a Parent from above Extends His arms, and bids her come, And dwell with Him whose name is Love ; Who ne'er that orphan will disown, Whom Jesus' blood has made His own ? 160 That gentle Hand, ah would she see, And prove its power to soothe and heal ! Ah would she to that Father flee, And know how well he loves her weal ! Ah would she learn how sweet it is Through Christ to be for ever His ! — Come, then, and give that heart to Him, Which long has dwelt on meaner things : Come, find thy song a worthier theme, And learn to soar on loftier wings. He who has died that thou mightst live, Deserves the best 'tis thine to give. The Spirit seeks to live thy Friend, And Christ thy Brother deigns to be ; The joys, that know nor bounds nor end, To thy possession all are free. Whate'er is lovely, pure, or great, On Ellen now vouchsafes to wait. 161 Expectant angels cry, te O come !" And saints prepare their gladdest song, Those wandering feet to welcome home, Which fifteen years have strayed too long Come, then, and all shall triumph o'er One dear, lost, rescued sinner more. 162 ON DREAMING OF MY MOTHER. Stay, gentle shadow of my mother, stay : Thy form but seldom comes to bless my sleep, Ye faithless slumbers, flit not thus away, And leave my wistful eyes to wake and weep. ! I was dreaming of those golden days When, will my guide, and pleasure all my aim, 1 rambled wild through childhood'sflowery maze, And knew of sorrow scarcely by her name. Those scenes are fled ! and thou, alas, art fled, Light of my heart, and guardian of my youth! Then come no more to slumbering fancy's bed, To aggravate the pangs of waking truth : Or, if kind sleep these visions will restore, O let me sleep again, and never waken more ! 163 "IT DOTH NOT YET APPEAR WHAT WE SHALL BE." Ye lingering hours, wheel swift away, And usher in the joyful day, When, rising from a world like this, My soul shall dwell where Jesus is ! Too long I've waited here below, And spread my wings, and sighed to go : Too long I've cried, Blest Saviour, come, And bear me to Thyself and home ! How favoured they, who once on earth Enjoyed Thy converse, felt Thy worth ; Who had Thee for their friend and guest, And leaned their heads upon Thy breast ! 164 How blest, to look up in Thy face, And there Thy Father's image trace ! To hear the music of Thy tongue, And learn from thence how angels sung ! A lot like this is not for me, On earth to know and follow Thee ; And tell what I have seen, and heard, And handled of the Incarnate Word. Yet do I hope at last to rise, And join my Lord above the skies j Close by His feet to take my place, And see and praise Him face to face ; To view Him 'mid His flock, and share With them the mighty Shepherd's care ; To hear His saints their tributes pay, And be myself as loud as they. 165 Till time shall bring this glad event, I linger here in banishment ; And but for what I taste of Him, My lot were yet more blank and dim. But through the gloom at times He looks, My hopes revives, my fears rebukes, And bids me here a foretaste prove Of all I seek with Him above. Then haste, ye lingering hours, away, And bring the full unclouded day, That bears me from a world like this, And lands me safe where Jesus is ! BY THE SAME AUTHOR. Lately published. TALES IN VERSE, illustrative of the several Petitions of the Lord's Prayer. Second Edition. Price 5s. 6d. " Have you seen a little volume entitled ' Tales in Verse, by the Rev. H. F. Lyte,' which seems to have reached a second edition ? Now, that is the right kind of religious poetry. Mr. Lyte shews how the sins and sorrows of man flow from irreligion, in simple but strong domestic narratives, told in a style and spirit reminding one sometimes of Goldsmith, and sometimes of Crabbe. A volume so hum- ble in its appearance and pretensions runs the risk of being jostled ofl' the highway into bye -paths ; — and, indeed, no harm if it should ; for in such retired places it will be pleasant reading— pensive in the shade and cheerful in the sunshine. Mr. Lyte has reaped ' The harvest of a quiet eye, 1 That broods and sleeps on its own heart ; ' and his Christian Tales will be read with interest and instruction by many a fireside. ' The Brothers 'is eminently beautiful. He ought to give us another volume." — Blacktvood's Magazine (Noctes Ambros.) No. 165, p. 686. Will shortly be published. THE SPIRIT OF THE PSALMS; or, The Psalms of David adapted to Christian Worship. The object of this work is to condense the spirit of each of the Psalms into four or five verses, with an especial view to congre- gational singing. Price 2$.