;W'iif.(ii-.;<.:i.'.. >:' i>H)^^' ; >^ ^?^^^< 4,^' ^*■^ '''*. 8 1 \ * \V' %*'-;/V-»>c. •'""o^^■ *, '^i^'- g. . -. 9 Vo V o ^ ^ ^ ^^, \' S ^ -^ ', s o ^ .0 f ^^^<': %:^, J -f^ V^ ^^ -;^^ ■^ '' * '-• r ■^c. ' ■" A $-. .;- ' "'■ '^^r ^ ' ■:■ ' t/' .-^^ Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from The Library of Congress http://www.archive.org/details/gemsofsacredpoetOOtapp a E M s SACRED POETRY. BY WTLLIAM B/TAPPAK NEW-YORK: H. DAYTON, PUBLISHER No. 36 HOWARD STREET. 1860. At Q I M. W* Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, By WILLIAM B. TAPPAN, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. INDEX Page. " A weary world ! " forever cry, 241 Almighty Thou ! although thy throne, 83 " All 's Well ! " the gangAvay sentry cries, • 330 All is right — raise the signal! 16 And this was plucked by Eriendship's hand, 264 And who are they that wear such name, 216 And who is he that 's seeking, 69 And why should wisdom smile at this 1 112 Arise, Lord ! look kindly on the deep, • •■ 210 Art flew to bless the virgin world, • • • 46 Away to the desert the Scape-Goat flies, 124 Ay, flap your wings, ill-omened birds, • 318 Barbarians *-of the Southern Sea, 126 Beautiful tree of the towering stem ! 76 Behold where the exalted Son, 245 Beneath thy folds, holy Cross ! 110 Benighted on the troublous main, 201 Boston ! that sittest in thy pride, 319 Bring forth the vessels ! borrow more, • 23 Buried once, the sleeping dust, 219 Bm-mah's Apostle ! I can style no less, 272 By awful influence, only lent, 302 ( iv ) Cease, proud Britons, cease your boastings, 313 Child of earth and heaven, Eepentance, 8 Childhood, its little grief, 289 Christian ship, of Turkish title, 256 City of Penn ! thy streets, 296 Come out of Egypt, oh mine madefiled, • 236 Come, Mind ! and break from empty night, • • • 39 Come warriors ! to the earnest fray, Ill Could angel choirs demand of earth, 167 Darkly o'er thee, Palestine ! 82 Discoursers on the vocal string, > 195 Elect of God ! and who is he ? 6 Pair as the moon ! celestial Seal, 27 Pirst Cause ! The Good ! Almighty Thou ! 50 Por conscience bold, our sires of old, 81 Gathered by the hand of kindness, 250 GiA^en is to earth its treasure, 135 Go, heal the sick ! Go, raise the dead ! 1 73 Go, minister of God, 84 God bless the Puritan, 327 God of Glory ! when the portals, 13 God, our God, his power revealing, 55 God — of earth the only Ruler — 109 God of our fathers ! while our ears, 207 Hark ! 't is the prophet of the skies, 10 Hast thou never seen, 198 Heart and hymn, thy sons and daughters, 74 He came to drink his bitter cup, 64 He chose the spot, the ground surveyed, 321 He journeyed on to Galilee. 161 " He lives, who lives to God alone," 227 He ministers where busy men, 243 He sought Moriah's walls, 209 He sought the Saviour's face to see, 178 (V) He traverses the fertile fields, 141 He who bestows a useful book, 271 He who medicines the sick, 116 He willed them lands, and tenements, and gold, 262 His path is the ocean, he maketh his dwelling, 106 Holy be this, as was the place, 14 How shall I cherish the desire, 200 How sweet, beneath the Cross, 4 Hurrah ! hurrah ! we 've burst the chain, 291 I bring unto the Font with holy feeling, ^. . . . 71 I bowed within the house of prayer, 105 I cannot doubt that Jesus met, 180 I hailed thy launching forth to life, 202 I knew thee once where s\A;e£ps Ohio's tide, 80 I learned submission by repeated blows, 16 I praise not one of woman's mould, 324 I saw a man who had sojourned where, 79 I saw thee faint, the hour when came, 206 I stand where I have stood before, 168 I stood amid the place of graves, 146 I stood beside his dying bed, 143 I stood in silence, and alone, 268 I trod the walks and velvet green, 305 I thought not of the inspiration lent, 317 I walk among the plants and flowers, 122 I walked in Portsmouth ; 'twas the place, .• 315 If, in that world of spotless light, 87 If this low vale of strife and tears, 54 I '11 look to thee, my Saviour ! when, 131 Immortal infamy is his, 156 I'm glad that at length the materials appearing, 189 I 've told my story ; need my verse, 220 In our secret souls we know it, 1 14 In the dew-drop j^ou behold, 255 It may be, from outbreaking sin, 94 It may be that the weal of nations, 208 Jerusalem is silent now, • 59 A* •( vi ) Joy for tlie Sabbath day ! 174 Judea's plains in silence sleep, 49 Know ye the earth on which ye tread, 196 Let me live till I am old ! • • • • 218 Lieth here beneath her shroud, 233 Lift ye my country's benner high, 304 Long hath the crescent's glittering sign, 97 Man is wrong in his pursuits, 232 Man ! who pitiest mortal woe, 1 62 Many ways, Jehovah, thou, 222 Messiah saw within, 119 'Mid Ti-affic's ceaseless thunder, 12 Modest Beauty praises God, • • • ■ 134 Mother ! little William lies, 164 My God, this hour doth thought invite, 171 My heart took counsel Avith thy pious heart, 159 Niagara ! the poetry of God, 186 "No man of God shaU tread this isle," 225 No moon or planets ruled the hour, 42 Now- up ! ye that have interest, 117 Angels ! nearest to the King, 77 Of old, Anacreon woke the song, 294 God ! this universal frame, 58 O God, that I no longer lie, 120 God ! what clouds of glory rolled, 22 Oh ! what a voice comes in the stilly hush, 91 Jesus ! once on Galilee, 1 63 Lord ! at thy throne, a poor Israelite kneeling, • • 85 Lord, my God ! I would not seek, 203 One day in merry June, I, then a lad, 300 parent ! who thy watch art keeping, 153 Saviour ! wert thou now below, 115 tell me ! while the blessed ones, 103 Thou ! in this dark world of ours, 63 ( vii ) Thou of Calvaiy ! Thou didst bear, • 257 Thou ! that plead'st with pitying love, 52 Thou Unseen, Almighty God ! 205 Over that child, now sunk in shame, 36 why should this poor world of ours^ 228 Eain ! Eain ! from out thy clouds, 298 Rich men ! a voice of Pity 's calling, 11 Eight glad was I, when round me, • • • 183 Seller of purple ! Listener to the word, 155 Seven planets keep around the sun, 123 Shall I be dumb, whose harp was slave, 252 She had his holy influence felt, 136 She turned her from the empty cell, 3 Some joy it has been mine to know, 158 Stand ye ! on whom, in duty's path, 99 Star of the East ! the Shepherd's Star ! 152 Such is the Good ! go, thou, survey the Good ! 192 Sweet out of bitter God designed, 237 Sweet Heaven ! to know thee holy, 188 Sweet Sabbath ! gift of heaven, that selfish man, 157 Teacher ! at the feet of love, 266 That Look ! when eye met eye — what power, 78 That the marrow and the pith, 286 That tossing vessel's silver wake, 47 The angel ranks that gird the throne, 53 The angels' song that happy night, 73 The Church is graven on thy hands, 33 The Church is slumbering. She that once awoke, • ■ 60 The heart to heart, the face to face, 41 The judgment day ! the judgment day ! 107 The mitre rims a brow 17 The Plague ! the Plagiie ! bring out your dead, 299 The ransomed spirit to her home, 44 The' seal of the covenant given, 176 The Soldiers of the Cross, 38 The stany angels break the gloom, ' 20 ■a (viii) There is an hour of hallowed peace, 249 There is an hour of peaceful rest, 1 The Widow's Mite ! who ever saw, 101 They say the goblet 's crowned with flowers, 290 They tell of the region of bliss, 170 They've reared the Organ. He whose fond desire, 197 This book, my Mother ! was designed for thee, 331 This Earth, to the thorn and the briar now given, • • • • • 258 This is thy grave. I 'd rather sleep, 312 Thou who look'st to Caesar's seat, • • • • 24 Though pouting out with youth and health, 98 Thy blessing, gracious Providence, 261 Thy people come with one accord, 34 Tiberias battles with the storm, 211 'T is good for us to rest to-day, • 259 'T is Midnight — and on Olive's brow, 273 'T is pleasant in the courts of God, 270 'T is so ! He that made the good creature for use, 280 'T is to the East the Hebrew bends, 62 'T is well with her who on that bed, 145 To gorgeous burial goes the monarch, 193 To him, at strife with conscience, sleep, 239 Tomato ! thou art like the mind, ■ • 277 To saved ones that dwell in the bovrers of heaven, 140 To see, my Lord, thy body thus, 177 True it is, weary toiler, 215 Two partners traded in that busy town, 310 Union prevails in heaven, from Him, 56 Vineyard of the Lord ! thy treasures, • • 160 Wait thou on Jehovah ! instructively cries, 88 Wake ! isles of the South, your redemption is near, 2 We bear along our toilsome way, 67 Weep not when sad distress is nigh, 51 We garnish the grave of the chief, 307 We give Thee not a shrine of gold, • 260 Well, now I have bent this sapling right, 311 We may to our companion go, 230 We sadly seek the waiting tomb, 45 We 've heard that round the wine-cup's brim, 293 We wander in a thorny maze, 48 What a spiritual expression, 72 What a sweet silence lingers on thy hills, 23 What, on thy boundless path of foam, 30 Whene'er long night the bursting dawn, 108 When my spirit leaves the clay, 92 When the great captains and the mighty men, 100 When sorrow casts its shade around, 61 Where warrior feet once pressed the soil, 57 Where Whitefield sleeps, remembered, in the dust, 283 While the solemn note of Time, 151 Who cares for Jack ? not one ! not one ! 102 Who seeks her Lord in glorious guise, 148 Wlio shall, with blessing, lift abroad, « 187 A'\Tiy, on darkness of the night, 90 Will he never return ? — will the Jew, 212 Wine of Cypras, not for m.e, 149 Would I were with them ! they are free, 32 Wouldst thou be cleansed from every taint, 132 Yea, thou forbearest, Lord, 129 Tills volume is the second of a series, comprising my revised Poems; of which, "Poetry of the Heart," published a year since, is the first. SACRED POEMS. THERE IS AN HOUR OF PEACEFUL REST.i Set to Music by A. P. Heinrich. There is an hour of peaceful rest To mourning wanderers given ; There is a joy for souls distressed — A balm for every wounded breast — 'T is found alone in Heaven. There is a soft, a downy bed, Far from these shades of even — A couch for weary mortals spread, Where they may rest the aching head, And find repose in Heaven. There is a home for weary souls, By sin and sorrow driven ; When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals. Where storms arise, and ocean rolls, And all is drear — 'tis Heaven. There Faith lifts up her cheerful eye. To brighter prospects given — And views the tempest passing by. The evening shadows quickly fly, And all serene in Heaven. (2) There fragrant flowers immortal bloom, And joys supreme are given ; There rays divine disperse the gloom — Beyond the confines of the tomb Appears the da\vti of Heaven. WAKE, ISLES OF THE SOUTH! "Written November, 1819, on occasion of the departure from the United States of the first Missionary band for the Sandwich Islands. Wake, Isles of the South ! your redemption is near; No longer repose on the borders of gloom ; The Strength of His chosen in love will appear, And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb. The billows that gird ye, the wild waves that roar, The zephyrs that play Avhen the ocean-storms cease, Shall bear tlte rich freight to your desolate shore. Shall waft the glad tidings of pardon and peace. On the Islands that sit in the regions of night. The lands of despair, to oblivion a prey, The Morning will open with healing and light. The glad Star of Bethlehem will usher the Day. The altar and idol in dust overthrown. The incense forbade that was offered in blood. The Priest of Melchizedec there shall atone, And the shrines of Hawaii be sacred to God ! (3) The heatlien will hasten to welcome the time The daj-spring the prophet in vision once saw, When the beams of Messiah shall gladden each clime, And the Isles of the Ocean shall wait for his law. And thou, Obookiah ! now sainted above, Wilt rejoice as the heralds their mission disclose ; And the prayer will be heard, that the land thou didst love May blossom as Sharon, and bud as the Eose ! "MAKY! — RABBONI!" John XX. 16. She turned her from the empty cell. Where late the Prince of Glory lay ; A shadow on her spirit fell, — Her Lord was borne away. " If thou hast spoiled the tomb. And for its new-born light Hast left the pall of ancient gloom, wanderer of the night — Tell me!" He looked into her earnest eyes. Where lately shone Hope's dazzling dew ; Her lips, of the carnation dyes, Now of the lily's hue. He saw were quivering with dismay. One word could light those eyes again, And banish every grief away; (*) One word bring back tlie lips' sweet red, One word restore the dead, And pleasure substitute for pain ; 'T was music when he spake it : « Mary ! " She turned herself — and from that face Of beauty every care was fled. And in its stead Was much of grace, And something meekly proud. As look our skies, when midnight's cloud Is chased, and they are overspread With morning's early blush, so she, The spirit of young Piety, Divinely looked, when answering " Raeboni ! " THE WAY. How sweet, beneath the Cross, At once, subdued, to lie ; Soon as I feel my loss, To find my gain is nigh ; Without the prelude of alarms. To fall into my Saviour's arms. How blest, impelled by gales Of Love, the port to win ; (5) Never to furl the sails, Till safely moored within. To anchor in the sheltered bay, Without one tempest by the way ! A few reach Canaan's land, Nor meet a single blast ; They sing with Victory's band, ' But not of perils past. No lions on their pathway wait, No " slough," hard by the " wicket gate." O, such was not 7ny course. When groping for the light ; Waves moaned and winds were hoarse, And bitter was the night. Across a gulf my vessel flew. To halcyon Hope I bade adieu. Storms rose and swept the deck, The flying sails were rent ; And I, a helpless wreck. O'er dreadful seas was sent; A feather by the tempest tost, — O, no ! — a spirit well nigh lost. I plucked a way-side staff, — 'Twas but a broken reed; I rallied song and laugh, — They failed me at my need. Ambition, Pleasure, Riches, Care ; — They all resigned me to Despair. (6) Till, to my utmost need, The Heavenly Leader came ; I knew him — for my deed Had put him, once, to shame. AYhat said He ? — to my passions, " Cease ! " And straight my troubled soul had peace. Methinks, my final song, — Final, yet ending never, — Will cheerful praise prolong. To my dear Lord forever : Who, when I such hard passage trod, My feet with full deliverance shod. THE ELECT. QUESTION. Elect of God ! and who is he ? What path by him is trod, Shut up to few, to all men free. Where throng the Elect of God ? Unriddle ye the maze, who can ; The mystery explore For me, a weary, wildered man. Who longs to find the door. ANSWER. Elect of God ! — he who repents ; Reforms, without, within ; (7) Who loathes all evil thoughts, intents, And every darling sin ; Hating his lusts and loving Christ, He unawares hath trod The happy path to peace unpriced ; He is Elect of God. QUESTION, But what, if wandering far from home, A beggar in his woe, He chooses, though rebuked, to roam As rebels love to go ; What if sin-wrecked and idly tost By every wind and wave, He joins the innumerable lost Whose voyage is to the grave ? ANSWER. Still, if he turns, with suppliant knee — Though viler never trod This earth — by Ilor who stained the tree, That Man's Elect of God ! And God will find him, though he dwell Where darkness hath its seat, — Will reach him, though the waves of hell Were surging at his feet. QUESTION. Yet what, if, having tasted bliss Unspeakable, he goes Away from Christ, and with a kiss Betrays him to his foes ? (8) Is he, who takes the Bread and Wine, And takes the price of blood, Yea, gloats upon that silver's shine, Indeed, Elect of God ? Tliou art the man I — what hast thou done ! Say, wretch, for which of all His gifts, thy treason, that hath won For thee such dreadful fall ? Yet turn thee ! turn thee ! Wondrous Love, Though thou the depths hast trod. If thou repent, will lift above Thy sin, the Elect of God. REPENTANCE. Child of earth and heaven. Repentance ! Of our solemn joys a part, Riddle to the rebel bosom, Solved by every lowly heart, — Thou, the moment I beheld thee, Wast 2k fiend to my despair ; Presently, in clearer vision, Wast a Seraph, passing fair. Then I loved thee, then embraced thee. Then I tasted bliss divine ; (9) Talk they of superior pleasures ? Angels might have envied mine. Happy angels, with their harpings, Standing on the crystal floor, Never knew his blessed sorrow, Who, forgiven, loves the more. Darkened Earth, a wandering planet From its Centre and its Sun, Has a joy obedient Heaven, Shining Heaven, never won. Hand in hand with me, Kepentance, Close companion, since has trod ; Thus — till on me gleam the turrets, And the battlements of God : Thus — to Jordan's swelling river. Weeping, singing to the gate ; Part we then, and part forever, Where the steeds and chariot wait. God forgive the tear I render ! God account it not a sin If a thought of sweet Repentance Steals to Heaven and enters in ! (10) REDEMPTION. Arise^ sJane, for thy light is come. — Isa. Ix. 1. Hark ! 't is the prophet of the skies Proclaims Redemption near ; The night of death and bondage flies, The dawning tints appeal*. Zion from deepest shades of gloom Awakes to glorious day ; Her desert-wastes with verdure bloom, Her shadows flee away. To heal her wounds, her night dispel. The heralds* cross the main ; On Calvary's awful brow, they tell That Jesus lives again. From Salem's towers the Islam sign With holy zeal is hurled, And there Immanuel's symbols shine, His banner is unfurled. The gladdening news conveyed afar, Remotest nations hear ; To welcome Judah's rising star, The ransomed tribes appear. Again in Bethlehem swells the song. The choral breaks again ; While Jordan's shores the strains prolong, " Good will and peace to men ! " * Missionaries to Palestine. (11) HYMN, Written for the Tw-elfth Anniversary of the Oliildren's Friend Society, Boston : Dec. 7, 1S45. Rich men ! a voice of Pity's calling From downy beds and gilded domes ; Hear it I in blessings round you falling, In sumptuous ease and gorgeous homes ; Telling of limbs that Penury crushes, Of minds, diseased without a cure ; Speaking of eyes whence sorrow gushes, Of cheerless hearths and haunts impure. Parents ! a voice of Love is stealing From those dear shouts of infant glee ; Tender its tones, to you appealing, " By Him who slept on Mary's knee ! " Asking, for little wanderers, driven, — As He once was on Misery's wave — That now to them shall Hope be given, With hearts to shield, and hands to save. Hark ! to the prayer your own sweet Childhood Sends from the distant Past for these ! Lifting their hands — that home and wildwood — Those walks and old familiar trees ; — Tbu hear! you hear! and still reclining On blessings, radiant from above, Will show, by deeds, the light that 's shining Within you, is the light of Love ! (12)* MISSIONAKIES GOING OUT IN THE BARK MALABAR. 'Mid Traffic's ceaseless thunder, 'Mid Politics' rude din, 'Mid Pleasure's disappointing toil, 'Mid crowds that worship Sin, A little band of travellers Unmoor, to-day, their bark ; — Religion tracking half the globe In her unnoticed ark. A little band, unfurling Their canvass to the wind ; Their homesteads and their native land Exchanging for the Ind. Their eyes the last look seizing, — Lip pressed to quivering lip, Impartmg, taking worlds of love — Farewell, thou blessed Ship ! They lodged within our city. Its proud ones knew them not. Nor dreamed on those devoted men "Was laid a glorious lot ; Nor that those meek-eyed women, Who counted diamonds dross. In their transparent loveliness Were jewels of the Cross. (13) Unceasing Traffic thunders, Rude Politics is loud, And Pleasure disappoints the heart, And Sin allures the crowd. The J perish — but the labors Of these will Mercy own, While stand the palaces of God, While Jesus fills a throne. HYMN, Written for the Opening of the Nevir Sailors' Home, Boston, Nov. 3, 1845. God of Glorj ! when the portals Of thy grace were lifted up. And to bring in lost immortals Jesus drank the dreadful cup, He, in paths of constant sorrow. Wearily was seen to roam ; He, the Builder, stooped to borrow, For his earthly need, a Home. We would give, from bosoms lowly, Thanks that we possess an ark Lit within by Love that 's holy. When without the world is dark ; Where thy bounty, care dispelling, — Be it hut or lordly dome — Gilds the spot we make our dwelling With the nameless charms of Home. (14) God of Goodness ! we, to praise Thee, For thy works below, above, Do, in joyful offering, raise tliee This, our monument of love. To the Sailor, to Jehovah, To the friendless, forced to roam, Holy Ghost, and Son that 's over. Kingdoms, Powers, we give this Home. God of Pity ! that in gladness Ocean's wanderer here may rest ; Gtjd of Bethel ! that in sadness He may be in Jesus blest. Pass, O Earth, as clouds of even Flit athwart the azure dome ! Even then, to such is given Rest in an eternal Home. WORSHIP. Holy be this, as was the place To him, of Padan-aram known, When Abraham's God revealed his face, And caught the pilgrim to the throne. Oh ! how transporting was the glow That thrilled his bosom, mixed with fear, " Lo ! the Eternal walks below — The Highest tabernacles here ! " (15) Be ours, when faith and hope grow dim, The glories that the Patriarch saw ; And when we faint, may we, like him, Fresh vigor from the vision draw. Heaven's lightning hovered o'er his head, And flashed new splendors on his view, • Break forth, thou Sun! and freely shed Glad rays upon our Bethel too. 'T is ours to sojourn in a waste Barren and cold as Shinar's ground ; No fruits of Eschol charm the taste, No streams of Meribah are found ; But Thou canst bid the desert bud "With more than Sharon's rich display, And Thou canst bid the cooling flood Gush from the Rock and cheer the way. We tread the path thy people trod, Alternate sunshine, bitter tears ; Go Thou before, and with thy rod Divide the Jordan of our fears. Be ours the song of triumph given, — Angelic themes to lips of clay, — And ours the holy harp of heaven, Whose strain dissolves the soul away. (16) THE SEVEKE AND SWEET PEOCESS. " CiESAE Malan says, that his conversion to the Lord Jesus might be compared to what a child experiences, when his mother awakes him with a kiss." — Wanderings of a Pilgrim. I LEARNED submission by repeated blows. The Spirit's hammer broke my stubborn heart, Driving its adamantine core apart ; — How needed, He who smote me only knows ! And now, when tampering with my devilish foes, I try to slip His service, comes the stroke, And beats me back again to Mercy's yoke. Thou, when thou saw'st the crimson tide that flows Down Calvary, wast in pleasing slumber bound. Dreaming of quick obedience, and how sweet To yield at once ! — how ravishing the bliss ! And so in holy likeness thou wast found. Waking, all satisfied, at Jesus' feet, — As wakes a babe with the fond mother's kiss. ALL IS RIGHT — EAISE THE SIGNAL. " With the breaking of day, her spirit fled to the world of light. A little while before, with almost the last powers of utterance, she exclaimed, ad- dressing one of her brothers, in words which rose to almost a sublimity of triumph, " All is right, H , all is right — raise the signal ! " All is right — raise the signal I Yield thee, unreluctant breath ; What remains ? all is finished ; Work thy will with me, Death ! (17) All is right that God has given ; Only wrong what I have done ; — Raise the signal ! I 'm accepted, So are all that trust His Son ! All is right that God has taken, Though my spirit did rebel ; Bless the Lord ! his fiery furnace Purifies the spirit well. Hear me groanmg, panting, crying ; See me on this rack recline ; In my exit doubly dying. With a double victory mine ! Call it suffering ? yes ! the river Foams along in deep midnight ; Call it terror ? no ! a finger Leads me on with threads of light. Over, over, almost over ; — Is this Heaven wrapping me ? All is right — raise the signal ! Jesus ! conquer I through Thee ! THE BISHOP « The BisJiop of your Souls." — 1 Peter, 2 : 25. The mitre rims a brow, Once pierced by thorns, Oh Church I for thee ; (18) And if that Sufferer is " no Bisliop," tliou A " Church " canst never be. His title, Very God ; His wondrous office to renew, By toil and tears, and groans and blood, An empire, all untrue^ His title, Very Man ; In human flesh to walk below, And, in fulfilment of Redemption's plan, To exhaust the cup of human woe. " His birth was on this wise." When bashful Night had melted into Morn, And where o'er Bethlehem arched the Syrian skies, Mortals were told, " the Christ is born," For psaltery was there. And all the melody of heaven. And strings and voices in mid air. Telling, "The Christ is given," " Ghry! Glory! Glory! Good will has come to Earth ; Glory! Glory! Glory! Peace is horn at Jesus' hirtli ! " He from the manger came. In his simplicity rebuking kings, His looks were love, his words were flame; To friends what love ! to foes what fiery stings ! ( 19 ) , Hungered, athirst and faint, Thy Bishop by the poor was fed ; Shunned, as polluted by the leper's taint, Where should he lay his head ? Unmitred by the maniac crew, Uncrowned, unhonored, and beneath the ban ; Scourged by the Roman ; crucified by Jew ; « Behold the Man ! " The Murdered lives ! The Buried triumphs over death and hell ! " The Man of Sorrows " wealth of blessing gives, Worlds may not lauy nor sell. He rules the Church ; He leads His " little flock ! " For the poor way-side wanderer maketh search ; And plants the feeble on a Rock. He takes the Infant up ; When He " confirms," whose faith is not heaven-strong ? The pearl of bliss in His communion cup Does not to Earth belong. The Omnipresent — He Is Intercessor at the court above ; And where, below, are gathered " two or three," Hovers His wing of love ; Whether where pilgrim dips His parched mouth in Oriental streams ; Or where on sailor, worshipping midships. Forgiveness beams ; (20) "VYhetlier in log-house, hid Bj the deep foliage of the western wild ; Or where the city spires do not forbid To enter Poverty's sad child. Come ! thou of England's creed, Nursed in the lap of regal power ; Come ! thou, the exiled one of prayer and need, Cradled in trial's hour ; Churchman ! and Puritan ! Seeking alike His face ; Who in Hope's quiet, or Sin's battle-van. Perish without His grace : Come ! at His footstool fall ; His children, are ye not His own ? His purchased ? Oh ! 't is sweet to give Him all, Who occupies the throne ! THE HUMLIATION. " And there appeared an angel from heaven, strengthening him." The starry angels break the gloom That wraps the silent Garden round, For where its olive sheds perfume, The God lies weeping on the ground. Prelusive to the mournful night, Whose shadows will His glory dim, The great Creator bows His might, A lowly angel strengthens Him. (21) Inexplicable, awful hour, When Justice held the penal cup, And God, the Maker, borrowed power To bear the grief and drink it up ! When Sin had mixed the bitter draught, And Judgment spiced it to the brim, And Death, exulting, shook his shaft, The hour an angel strengthened Him ! Oh ! blessed angel ! in the choirs Of shining heaven, where art thou ? Mid flaming hosts and thundering Ijres, Where dost thou, radiant angel, bow ? Art thou not nearest to the throne, And swiftest of the cherubim, Who, of thy fellows, didst alone Appear from heaven to strengthen Him ? Sweet wonders of the sacred Cross ! Sweet mysteries, big with new delight ! What are all joys to you but dross? What are all shades with you but light ? I '11 sing where sings the Christian crowd, I '11 sing where sings the Seraphim, How low for me the Maker bowed. That e'en an angel strengthened Him ! (22) HYMN, Written for tho Dedication of the Church of the Pilgrimage, Plymouth, Massachusetts; 1840. God, what clouds of gloiy rolled Around witliin thy house of old! To dedicate that house, what throngs Its pavement trod ! — what prayers ! what songs ! 'Moriah's awful mount was there. And thoughts of Abraham's faith and prayer Came up where Israel's thousands knelt, Where God between the cherubs dwelt. Yet not less Glory's cloud around This house is seen, and o'er this ground ; Not less sweet thoughts of faith appear, Not less the Hebrews' God is here. Yon Bay, whose stormy waters bore The Child of Promise to this shore. Yon Mount, where sacrifice was made, And where the patriarch's bones are laid, Are holy. — Thou that led'st thy flock. Our Pilgrim Fathers, to this Rock, As thou wast then their staff and rod, Be thou to-day the children's God. On ground wet with their frequent tear, Ye Gates, that now with joy we rear. Be Hfted ! — « Yet to ivhom lift we ? " Oh! Trinity! to Thee! to Thee! (23) KEW ENGLAND SABBATH. What a sweet silence lingers on thy hills, Along thy rivers and fair vales to-day, New England ! As it every passion stills. Unholy thoughts take wing and flee away; "While- the glad passengers the influence feel Of Sabbath sights and sounds, such as them greet When sloping upland, lawn, and field reveal The thronging yeomanry with willing feet Hasting to Zion. Hark I the village bells Joyfully call each to the other, telling, As their rich music o'er the landscape swells. That the Great King of kings to-day is dwelKng In temples made with hands. Oh haste, and bow Before the Lord, the Soverdgn Maker, now! THE WIDOAV'S OIL. " And it came to pass, when the vessels were full, that she said unto her son, ' Bring me yet a vessel.' And he said unto her, ' There is not a vessel more.' And the oil stayed," — II. Kings, iv. 6. " Bring forth the vessels ! borrow more, Of all thy neighbors, not a few ; God, who regards the widow's store. Her slender pittance will renew." Then did the widow's heart rejoice ; No more in penury's depths to toil ; (24) Those vessels, at the prophet's voice, She sees run o'er with precious oil. " And yet bring more ! " No more were brought, And straight the flowing treasure stayed God ! how fully we are taught That thus we bound thy Spirit's aid. For when the Oil of Grace, in store Unmeasured, flows for ready hearts, — Hearts, emptied of their pride, no more Appear, and slighted Grace departs. COLLOQUY. HIGH PRIEST. Thou, who look'st to Csesar's seat, Claiming to be called a King — Yet for purple, sceptre, ring, Showest coarsest covering, Crownless head and naked feet ; "Wanderer ! for sedition ripe ; Poverty's true prototype ; Monarch ! with no lictors, guards ; Lauded not by courtly bards ; With no symbol, save a scrip ; With no herald, save the lip Of these stricken Fishermen ; Thou, whom stirred Jerusalem (25) Sees, a prisoner, forlorn, Hither dragged in scorn ; Homeless one ! Thou, God's Son ? Thou claim the diadem ? Flouted by the base, Spit upon the face. Scourged, a very slave, Canst thou save ? Bound, at my palace gates. Where ready Justice waits The traitor; — thou Of open brow, And all unblushing face, "Who canst our temple rase. And in three days each tower Build again with devilish power. Art thou, a wretch undone, Whom Jew and Gentile shun. On whom the thief hath trod. Indeed, the Blessed Son Of God? Yea, listen, Priest ! Who countest me as least ; Who dost the Judge assume, Exulting at my doom ; Who see'st me thus uncrowned. With malefactors bound ; Where, at thy palace gates, Stern Justice waits (26) The traitor. Now Listen ! for thou Shalt stand, When, at the high right hand Of Power, I sit, as Son, My rebel kingdom won ; — What time men leave their shrouds, Heaven lost, hell gained ; — Thyself, a trembling one. Myself, the Judge, on clouds ; The universe arraigned Before my righteous bar, While every world that seemed a star Shall crisp in flame ; Thou shalt behold my Name ! On Him, of Bethlehem, Mark the diadem. And in the Nazarene — The base, the mean — ^ Shalt see revealed The Everlasting Shield, And Hope of Israel ! Yea, When thy hopes flee away, Shalt know, indeed, the Lamb, Slain, vainly, for thy sin — Who lost that thou might'st win, Is He, Son of the Blessed ! Who now, mid Eoman wrong and Jewish jest, The cries of Hell and Death, The High Priest answereth : I AM ! (27) THE SEAL. " When they were returned out of the garden from the bath, the inter- preter took them, and looked upon them, and said unto them, ' Fair as the moon ! ' Then he called for the seal, wherewith they used to be sealed that were washed in his bath. So the seal was brought, and he set his mark upon them, that they might be known in the place, whither they were yet to go; and the mark was set between their eyes. This seal greatly added to their beauty, for it was an ornament to their faces. It also added to their gravity, and made their countenances more like those of angels." — The Filgrim's Progress. " Fair as the moon ! " celestial Seal, Oh for thy mark of blessing ! Meek ornament — I pant to feel The sign mj brow impressing. To cleanse sin's spot, and make me fair, Beyond what beauteous angels are. Is thy strange power, K.eligion ! " Fair as the moon ! " — woe 's me ! unclean ! Where folly in commotion Upcasts its mire, I long have been Disporting in the ocean. To thy dear Bath, my Lord, I flee ; So ! bring the Seal — affix on me, Eternally, Religion ! Now will I tell what wondrous charm Hath Mercy's crystal waters, To cleanse the soul, the passions calm Of misery's sons and daughters. Now will I sing the blessed Seal, Whose outward impress doth reveal. Throned in the heart — Religion ! (28) " Fair as the moon ! " ingenuous youth ! Who long'st to lift the curtain, And gaze beyond, and know, for truth. What now is hope uncertain, — Wouldst thou, by prescience, ills forego ? Wear thou her Seal and thou shalt know His state, who finds Religion ! Though simple, unsuspecting thou, Yet constant perils find thee ; Yea, though a willing victim now, Sin's dreadful fetters bind thee ; Thou hast no fear, thou know'st no pain. Nor see'st thy cell, nor feel'st thy chain — Blind, lost, without Religion ! " Fair as the moon ! " — along this dark Wild road, by perils driven, — Oh fragile woman ! wear the mark, That pitying Love hath given. On dangerous land, on stormy sea, A certain panoply will be The talisman. Religion ! How blest to-day avails thee not ; How free life's book from sorrow — The smile 's there now — a tear will blot That various leaf to-morrow ! Let light shine down upon the page Of youth, maturity, and age — The only light, Religion ! 'T is all thou need'st, thou village maid ! To make thy beauty glorious ; (29) Though in unequalled charms arrayed, And o'er all hearts victorious, — One thing thou lackest ; — part with gold, Yea, all, to buy, what can't be sold For worldly dross, Religion ! Thou city's pride ! — the speaking face, Where mind informs each feature ; The faultless form, and matchless grace, That make the perfect creature — These, that thou thus rejoicest in. Win earth ; but heaven they cannot win ; Nought doth it, but Eeligion ! 'T is all thou need'st to make thy life A day of white-winged hours ; From all its care-paths weeding strife, The thorn from all its flowers. 'T will soothe away the latent sigh, 'T will cheer thee when thou com'st to die ; Nought doth it but Eeligion ! Yea, when before Him thou'lt appear, Whose ways are Everlasting, Thy gentle spirit need not fear. But, crowns and praises casting Before His feet, thou shalt rejoice, And with the ransomed lift thy voice — Who wear the Seal, Eeligion ! (30) MISSION SHIPS. What, on thy boundless path of foam, Oh, everlasting Sea ! Of all that hail thee as their home — Hast thou most dear to me ? The merchant ship, whose precious gums And ambergris and gold, Are heaped, the price of princely sums, Deep in her teeming hold — The barque, that gaily seeks the breeze On embassy of state ; Round which the willing winds and seas Obsequious seem to wait — Or the proud bulwark of the deeps, Whose warring thunders play ; That bristling for the combat, keeps Stern watch on thy highway ? Not these ! not these ! for still they bear Those of the Avorldly brow ; And men disturbed with fruitless care. Press o'er thy billows now. Not these, not these, Deep ! for they Man's purposes perform ; His lusts and passions to obey. They court thy frequent storm. (31) But who are ihej that as a cloud And doves are hovering near ; Bearing unto the lost and proud Their freight of glorious cheer ? None, bird-like, sit upon thy crest So beautiful as these ; None, statelier, have ever prest Through thy tall surging seas. The Mission Ships ! — ride on thy waves No treasures like to them : Ocean ! within thy secret caves Is hidden no such gem. For holy footsteps tread that deck, Of men who bear away Riches, that shall survive the wreck Of the last dreadful day. And journeys o'er thy mighty tide A Blission, vast and high From the world's Monarch, who has died, To man who may not die. i (32) ENTEEING IN AT THE CELESTIAL GATE. "Now just as the Gates were opened to let in the Men, I looked in after them, and behold, the City shone like the sun ; the streets also were paved with gold ; and in them walked many men with crowns upon their heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal." " There were also of them that had wings ; and they answered one another without intermission, saying, 'Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord.' And after that they shut up the Gates ; which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them." — Filgrim's Frogress. Would I were with them ! — they are free From all the cares they knew below, And strangers to the strifes that we Encounter in this vale of woe. From storms of sorrow and of pain Forever are they garnered in, Secure from sad defilement's stain. The mildew and the blight of sin. Would I were with them ! — they embrace The loved ones, lost, long years before ; What joy to gaze upon the face That never shall be absent more ! There friends unite who parted here At Death's cold river, Oh how sadly ! Forgotten are the sigh and tear, Their hearts are leaping — Oh how gladly ! Would I were with them ! — they behold Their Saviour, glorious and divine ; They touch the cups of shining gold, And in his kingdom drink new wine. --Ql (33) How flash, like gems, their brilliant lyres Along the sparkling walls of heaven, When, from his radiance catching fires, The song of songs to Christ is given ! Would I were with them ! — while without Are sighs and weeping, they, within, For very joy and gladness shout, And' well they may, who 're free from sin ! this, indeed, is Heaven above ; This fills the bliss of every soul — To grow in holiness and love, As age on age shall ceaseless roll. HYMN, Written for the Fiftieth Anniversary of an Ordination. The Church is graven on Thy hands, Her walls before Thee shine ; O God, the worship and the word And ministry are Thine. She, the Eestorer, sitteth where Our ruined planet weeps, — When will she sing the Jubilee That Earth, the ransomed, keeps ? Thine only is it to appoint Her watchmen for their toil ; The unction shed upon their hearts, Upon their heads the oil. (34) Of those, anointed, some forsake Their post in peril's hour ; And Death has bowed the strong and tall And crushed the manly flower. Yet these thy servant long has led, — The favored of the flocks ; — How kindly Grace has touched his heart ! How gently Time his locks ! And he has formed the vigorous mind In Wisdom's heavenly mould ; And he has watched the little lambs That bleat about the fold. And longer on these noble walls May he, O Lord, remain ; And in the conflicts of the Cross Still newer trophies gain. And Thou, for Zion's thronging sons Her gates wilt open wide And gifts, beyond the pearls and gold Shall deck the Church, the Bride. HYMN, For the Dedication of the remodelled Congregational Church in Man- chester, Mass. — 1846. Thy people come with one accord To bless thy Holy Name to-day ; 'T is good to bless thy Name, Lord ! And better is it to obey. (35) For Thee, in Zion, praises wait ; And yet this graceful Dome of Art Thou passest by, to consecrate A fairer shrine — the human heart. The human heart ! — the sigh for sin Is Music to thy perfect ear, And Earth has nought thy glance to win Like that returning wanderer's tear. Then bow thy heavens, Thou ! as we Draw nigh, with lowly heart and will, And so the House we give to Thee, Thy sounding praise shall grandly fill ; — That where our dear old Fathers kept Their Sabbaths, rise our true desires ; And at the Altars where they wept We fan anew Religion's fires ; — That to our path of tears and night. Where weeds and thorns push by the flowers. Come glories from the land of light. And sacred sweets and cheerful hours ; — That still to Faith's immortal eye The Crown is glittering at the goal; — The Crown so purchased ! now so nigh ! So starred ! — and every star a Soul ! (36) THE BAPTIZED. Over tLat child, now sunk in shame, While listened Heaven's admiring host- In prayer was named the blessed Name Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Baptismal waters bathed his brow, In sign of covenant, who now Is counted as the lost. He grew in youth. The father's prayer "Went up for him to Mercy's bower ; For him, was seen, appealing, there, The mother's tear of holy power. As parents should, they agonized For promises to the Baptized, Performed in gracious hour. He grew in manhood. Yet no sign Saw they, of renovating grace ; No token of the life divine, In word or action, could they trace. The quiet pleasure of the heart, "\yhose choice is still the better part, Was not upon his face. Self-willed, he left the shielding dome, Threw off the yoke, that he might be From the restraints and tears of home, Its prayers and kind monitions, free. (37) And of his wanderings, tlie spot None knew, few cared, whose chosen lot Was hopeless misery. He knows not, yet lie cares — the sire, Whose hair, .since then, has changed to gray ; She cares — whose frame, the keen desire To clasp the absent, wastes away. When storms are up, with thunders, wild, She fears for her unsheltered child. And goes apart to pray. Where 's he, for whom they agonized — Those parents — in his infancy ? Where 's he — the cherished, the Baptized — The prodigal, oh ! where is he ? On Folly's billows rudely tost, — For this world, to appearance, lost, — For Heaven, too, it may be. Yet, " train thy child in wisdom's way," Saith Wisdom, " and when he is old, From that fair path he shall not stray," Like one that is to Folly sold. That word is tricth I — Old man, bereft Of thy first bom, by sin, why left Thy child the Shepherd's fold? Some lapse of thine is with thy grief Blended, some error in the link That bound his love to thee, is chief Of woe that presses now ; yet think ! ( 38 ) . There 's power for thy lost son with God — Despair not. No ! though he has trod The lava of hell's brink. Over that child, now sunk in shame, While listened Heaven's admiring host — Remember I once was named the Name Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. There 's hope for him who wears such sign, Though vile — that he, through grace divine. Forgiven, shall love most. . SOLDIERS. The Soldiers of the Cross, Led by the anointed Son, Know not of shame or loss, Their watchword still is, " On " — Onward ! till o'er a rebel world Victorious banners are unfurled. Whose flag looks o'er the field Idolatry hath trod ? On waving folds revealed, Behold the Word of God ; Barbaric kingdoms gather round, Jehovah ! where Thy Name is found. Who next ? — a lamb-like throng, The joyous infant train Approach, and hail with song Their Shepherd's peaceful reign ; . (39) And he shall lead, with gentle rule, His chosen of the Sunday School. And see ! a noble band, Whose lifted sheet of Heaven Displays from land to land The " leaves for healing " given ; Where'er its spangled glories burn. The nations from the dead return. One army of the Prince — One note their trumpets tell, And theirs the battle, since Their Leader vanquished hell. To perish, is to win renown. To fall — to reach a sparkling crown. To arms ! 't were glorious boon With these stout hearts to die ; To arms ! for victory soon Shall be the stirring cry. Yet every crown and palm shall meet, Where victory dwells, at Jesus' feet. THE SCHOOL OF THE PROPHETS. Written for the Anniversary of a Theological Seminary. Come Mind ! and break from empty night. And take the wealth of radiance in ; Then sow the glorious pearls of light In every soil of self and sin. (40) Drop splendors o'er the lovely West, And melt awaj her veil of gloom ; Flame down where Orient lies unblest, And quench the terrors of her tomb. His purpose hasten to fulfil ; Co-workers with Him for mankind — Affection, intellect and will — Be one with God, exalted Mind ! For oft hath sworn the spirit here Her energies forever His ; — While dropt upon that oath the tear, And looked these Shades, the w^itnesses. Oh Shades ! endeared hj thought and prayer, To Nature and Religion true, What memories turn from aching care, And go on pilgrimage to you ! What hearts, that sigh the load to cast, What spirits, weeping in the strife. Ask counsel of your solemn Past, And gird anew for future life ! 'T is o'er — such moments breathe and die — Those seek once more stern Duty's face, And these, with kindling soul and eye, Rush eager to the untried race. Shed down, ye skies ! ethereal dew, While angels stoop and smile from bliss Whose golden cycles never knew The joy, the pain of hours like this. (41) PARTING HYMN, Of the Senior Class, at a Tlieolo^cal Seminary. The heart to heart, the face to face, Answers within this sacred place ; The exile has come back, and finds « The fellowship of kindred Minds." Thanks ! for an Eschol in the waste, "Whose clusters charm the eje and taste ; Thanks — while we seek a world of bliss, " Heaven lies about" our path in this. Now send us, Lord ! — a willing band — Like flames of fire, throughout the land ; With light, where Sin's dark empires lie, With life, where deathless millions die. By us, let Sharon's roses bless The prairie and the wilderness ; By us, let Mercy's Cross, unfurled, Restore the dying heathen world. At home, abroad, in simple love. Imparting doctrines from above. Still let our glory, boast and pride, Be Jesus, and Him Crucified, Let intellect, affection, will, Approve the words our lips distil ; 4* (42) And in our people's lives be shown The pure reflection of our own. Thanks ! for the lessons taught by Thee — Thanks! that the Truth has made us free— Thanks ! for the privilege to teach — Thanks ! for the Gospel that we preach. THE UNANSWERED PRAYER. " Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." No moon or planets ruled the hour When Jesus, wrapt in deeper shade, And prest by an infernal Pow€r, At midnight, in the garden prayed. He asked, who never asked in vain, — And sighs embalmed the heavy air — That hence might pass the Cup of Pain, — Yet His was an Unanswered Prayer. I go in vision where He lies, Forsaken in His utmost need ; I see His terrors, hear His cries, For whom there 's none to intercede. The night dews wet His burning brow, The moaning breezes lift His hair, — Why crowd these horrors on Him now ? And wherefore this Unanswered Prayer? (43) It may not pass — that fearful Cup — Though mortal flesh and spirit shrink ; Insulted Law has filled it up, The world is lost, and He must drink. No pity for His doom is shown. Who comes, unmeasured wrath to bear ; The quick cross lightning guards the throne And wards off that Unanswered Prayer. Oh ! had the Cup but passed from Him, And Calvary borne a stainless tree. In heaven might range the cherubim. But where, my spirit, wouldst thou be ! To break the cruel yoke of Sin, To raise from rags Creation's heir. The rebel to repentance win. Must this remain Unanswered Prayer. Unanswered — that forever more Should contrite cries the boon obtain ; That he who knocks at Mercy's door In truth, might never knock in vain. Then strengthened be thy bold intent. In all thy need to Him repair, And He will teach thee to present What shall not be Unanswered Prayer ! (U) THE KANSOMED SPIRIT TO HER HOJIE. The ransomed spirit to lier home — The clime of cloudless beauty — flies ; No more on stormy seas to roam, She hails her haven in the skies : But cheerless are those heavenly fields, The cloudless clime no pleasure yields, There is no bliss in bowers above, If thou art absent. Holy Love ! The cherub near the viewless throne Hath smote the harp with trembling hand j And One with incense-fire hath flown To touch with flame the angel-band ; But tuneless is the quivering string, No melody can Gabriel bring, Mute are its arches, when above The harps of heaven wake not to Love ! Earth, sea and sky one language speak, In harmony that soothes the soul ; 'T is heard when scarce the zephyrs wake, And when on thunders, thunders roll : That voice is heard, and tumults cease. It whispers to the bosom peace ; Speak, thou Inspirer, from above. And cheer our hearts. Celestial Love ! (45) FUNEREAL. We sadly seek the waiting tomb, Whose echoes mock our funeral tread, And to its silence, damps and gloom. With tears, commit the sacred Dead ; Guard well your trust, ye narrow walls ! And give these ashes sweet repose. Till Jesus to the sleeper calls, Till rosy tints His Day disclose. One prayer for Grace ! the art to learn How like the Christian we may die, Who journey up whence none return, Who press the sod where we must lie ; — For Grace ! that led her steps aright. And marked her pure, transparent way. Whose path was as the shining light, That shineth to the perfect day ; — For Grace ! that soothed her final hour. And winged to God her praising breath, And stript from dust and worms their power, And triumphed at the gates of Death ; — For Grace ! that radiates the tomb ; Unsought by sinners, to their loss, Who see no Star of Hope illume The midnight of the wondrous Cross. Kesplendent hope ! that smiles on tears. Like golden sunlight on the rain ; (46) High o'er the grave its bow appears j The Dead in Jesus lives again ! We sadly seek the waiting tomb, Wh(*se echoes mock our funeral tread, And in His Name who spoiled its gloom, To peaceful slumber leave the Dead. HYMN, Written for the Dedication of the Lyceum Hall, South Boston ; 1846. Art flew to bless the virgin world ; And, since she lit on Shinar's plain. Where domes have swelled, or incense curled. She 's followed in Religion's train. For Wisdom dwelt with God of old. Ere flamed the sun or sang the stars ; Or He the firmament unrolled. Or fixed the sea's eternal bars. The Truth that Art and Science preach Leads up to God — from God it came ; Of God the Laws of Matter teach, And Nature 's pregnant with His Name. His awful Name, in love and fear. We thus from Knowledge truly learn ; And thus attempt the worship here. That thunders where the Seraphs burn. (47) Then gather we around the throne, And render what to God belong — This House, from cope to corner stone, Our supplication and our song ! THE CHURCH IS THERE. That tossing vessel's silver wake Thine eye discerns no more ; A storm has gathered on the lake^ And sullen is its roar. Why ginks not the devoted bark Beneath that boiling sea ? "Why o'er those men close not the dark Wild waves of Galilee ? The Church is there ! — and God, who ke«ps Within his fists the wave, Will calm the passions of the deeps-, His followers to save. Still breasts the bark the troublous gale ; She 's on the flood of Time ; How fearful is the tempest's wail ! How high the waters climb ! She 's on the Deep ; — though her beset Fierce storms that prowl the seas. There 's One that never doth forget To lull them to a breeze. ( 48 ) And ever as the winds increase, When nearest is despair, His voice cries through the thunders, " Peace ! ' The Church — the Church is there ! When mighty are the thralls of sin. And tall and strong is pride, 'T is safe with her to be shut in. And o'er the danger ride. Amid the sweep of whelming waves. Amid the tempest's stir — Beneath His wings whose Presence saves, May I be found with her ! WE WANDER IN A THORNY MAZE. Set to Music by A. P. Heinrich. We wander in a thorny maze, A vale of doubts and fears ; A night illumed with sickly rays, A wilderness of tears. We wander, bound to empty show. The slaves of boasted will ; We w^ander, dupes to hope untrue, And love to wander still. We wander — while unfading joy The heart will ne'er approve. The bliss that sparkles to destroy. Secures its warmest love ; (49) Some sjren leads our steps astray, And speaks no peace within ; We wander in a flowery way, We wander, heirs of sin. We wander — but though oft we roam, Led by allurement strong, Yet from our heavenly Father's home We would not wander long ; Cleanse us, Saviour ! from this stain In Mercy's living flood, Kestore the lost, and bring again The wanderer back to God. THE NATIVITY. Jtjdea's plains in silence sleep Beneath the cloudless midnight sky. And o'er their flocks the shepherds keep Kind watch, to David's city nigh : That royal city ! — nobler Guest Is she awhile to entertain. Than proudest monarch, whose behest It is o'er earthly realms to reign. By Him salvation is to mortals given. On Earth is shed the peerless noon of Heaven. For see ! along the deep blue arch A glory breaks ; — and now a throng From where the sparkling planets march Comes trooping down with shout and song ; (50) And o'er those pastures, bathed in light, The sacred legions stay their wing, While on the wakeful ear of night Steals the rich hymn that Seraphs sing. And sweetly thus the mellow accents ran, « Glory to God, Good Will and Peace to Man ! GOD. Set to Music by A. F. Heinricfi:. First Cause ! The Good ! Almighty ! Thou ! The Dread, Mysterious, Alone I The Rightful King, the "Wondrous Now I The Past, the Future, the Unknown I Thou Art ! — Thou ! the untold years Of an Eternity are Thine ; Tliy Essence, One, Triune, appears — All time all space with Thee combine. Though terrors shroudy Thou ! thy way. Though thunders dwell beneath Thy feet, Thy glory beanfs with kindly ray Around the blessed Mercy seat. Help me, Thou !— 'tis Thou alone Canst touch my lips with living fire ; Though frail, I would approach Thy throne ; Though dust, would reach an angel's lyre. (51) Yet help me, Sovereign ! and control Thy subject's wish and thought to Thee ; And 0, accept the contrite soul — The offering dear to Deity. WEEP NOT. Weep not, when sad distress is nigh, When bliss and transient pleasures fly ; When earthly blessings droop and fade, When all is wrapt in sorrow's shade. Weep not, when death with cruel dart Pierces some idol of the heart ; When hallowed friendship decks the bier, When tender love would claim the tear. Weep not, for as the morning cloud Doth nature's radiant smile enshroud, But scatters soon, — these gloomy woes Shall flee, and all be calm repose. Weep not, for as the floweret fair Is crushed with winter's blighting air, Pressed rudely down, it droops its head. And all its varied hues are fled — 5\^ (52) With openiDg spring its bloom revives ; Again the beauteous floweret lives ; Thus, when life's wintry storms are o'er. The friend revives to die no more. THOU THAT PLEAD'ST WITH PITYING LOVE. O THOU that plead'st with pitying love, How large that love and free, When sad and wounded here, we prove There 's rest alone in Thee ! Poor wanderers, tired, bereft of all. To sin and bondage sold. We strive, till, freed from Satan's thrall, We 're brought to Jesus' fold. With fervor at the sinner's heart Thou plead'st to enter in. And there the kindly balm impart, That heals the wounds of sin. " Open the door to me, my spouse. My love is ever true ; My head with drops of midnight flows, My locks are filled with dew." Who shall not. Lord, with love adore, When thus Jehovah pleads ? What bosom will deny the door When Jesus intercedes ? (53) Enter this heart, my Saviour, God ! Subdue this stubborn breast ; Shed thy renewing grace abroad, And be my constant guest. HYMNS, Written for the Anniversaries of the American Sunday School Union ; Philadelphia. I. The angel ranks that gird the throne Of Majesty, stand not alone ; To mortals, disenthralled, 't is given To join the choral hymn of heaven. Hark ! even now a richer strain Comes floating o'er the eternal plain ; To infant choirs those harps belong, And children's voices swell that song. Gabriel ne'er touched a sweeter string, — His legions listen, as they sing ; O, whence those cherub minstrels — say — Clad in Immanuel's bright array ? In scenes where thoughtless worldlings dwell Their lot was cast, whose lyres now swell The thrilling melody above ; Thine be the praise, God of love ! 5* (54) The Sunday School ! Earth has no name Worthier to fill the breath of Fame ; The untold blessings it hath shed Shall be revealed when worlds have fled. O thou of Bethlehem ! once a ehild^ Jesus ! compassionate and mild — Approve thy work, be this the sum Of all our toil — " Thy Kingdom Come ! " ♦ 11. If this low vale of strife and tears "Were never sunned by Mercy's beam, Where gladness now, God, appears, How dark would thy creation seem ! Revealed in splendors was thy name. When morn her banners first unfurled ; Yet lovelier is the Light that came. Shedding redemption o'er a world. To this high impulse man has bowed. And frigid hearts have learned to love ; The fierce are humbled, on the proud Sits meekness like a peaceful dove ; Now are the mighty of the earth Workers with God — now hoary age Pants to partake the second birth, Now children are his heritage. Earth has a theme allied to heaven. And joys like those that revel there, When to these lisping ones is given The artless eloquence of prayer ; (55) And these may wake a trembling string, While rapture every bosom thrills — With hymns as sweet as seraphs sing Upon those everlasting hills. Our hearts rejoice, our bosoms glow, This hour what cheering visions rise ! These children, nurtured thus below. Shall swell the assemblies of the skies. Glorious will be his diadem. And songs and ecstasies unknown, Who forms for God one beauteous gem, To sparkle on the eternal throne. in. lOf- GOD, our God, his power revealin< In this latter harvest time. Bids his Sun, with wings of healing, Eise on each benighted clime : See ! o'er vale and humbled mountain, Rolls his conquering car to-day ; See ! his brightness, like a fountain, Flooding all the glad highway. By the Mission Ships that wander, Messengers to every sea, — By his servants, toiling yonder. Where stern idols claim the knee, — Bibles, news of peace declaring To the wretch by sin undone, Tracts, obedient missives, bearing Liberty to thraldom's son : (56) By the tender mercies glowing Where reigned hatred and misrule, And the thousand blessings flowing From his chosen Sunday School — He is Error's night dispelling, Bidding grace in rivers flow From Antarctic, to the dwelling Of the lowly Esquimaux. "Wake the harp, ye angels ! ever Warble ye melodious choirs ! Sweet your minstrelsy, yet never With Eedemption thrill those wires ; 'T is our song, and all your glory Starry crowns and hymns above Fade, while children lisp the story Of a Saviour's dying love. IV. Union prevails in heaven, from Him Who all its spangled sheet unrolled, Down to the flaming cherubim That veils his face with wings of gold. Union is written on each star That walks in music as it shines, And the dim worlds that float afar Reveal it, traced in living lines. In Union have our fathers placed The stone that God will not forbid. Polished and sure — whereon is based The Sunday School's fair pyramid. (57) In Union went the cloud of prayer, Their embassy, to yonder skies ; Faltering, and yet accepted there. For God. approved the sacrifice. 0, Thou ! that sendest blessings down. The hearing and the answering One — Smile on their toil, and give the crown. And give the world to Christ thy Son. Where warrior feet once pressed the soil, And Freedom led her thousands on. Hath Knowledge gathered goodly spoil, And meek Religion trophies won. O'er valleys where repose the brave. Her lovely stars hath Peace unfurled ; And harvests on the hill-tops wave. Where once the cloud of battle curled. There bowed the hostile ranks in death, There bent our sires the willing knee, And from that ground, Lord God ! the breath Of glad thanksgiving rose to Thee. Thou who didst nerve their dauntless hosts, And give them victory on that field. From deadlier foemen guard these coasts. From sin, God ! the children shield. (58) Thou went'st before them, King of kings ! And on their camp thy power shone out ; 0, that the shadow of thy wings, Might ever compass these about ! Make thou this land a heritage Refreshed by kindly sun and shower — Whose youth shall bloom, from age to age, Thy right-hand plants of fairest flower. Thy smiles they need, their care to crown, Who watch the gate or build the dome ; Lord ! on our toil send unction down. To gather these immortals home. And be the pearls of lustre ours, The gems that heaven might seek to wear Children arrayed in yonder bowers. Led by our tears and watchings there. VI. 0, God ! this universal frame Reveals the splendor of thy Name, And on the heavens that thou hast spanned, Its characters in beauty stand. Of Thee, redeemed ones sweetly sing. Where errand angels plume their wing ; That mellow music bursts and dies Ever along those upper skies. (59) Yet nobler than this matchless frame, Or heaven of heavens, where dwells thy Name, Is He who once this footstool trod, The Crucified — the risen God. And richer is His word of love. Than notes that shake the throne above, When He invites his children home. Saying, " Forbid them not to come." MARY AT THE SEPULCHRE. " Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself, and saith unto him, Rahboni ; which is to say, Master. Jesus saith unto her. Touch me not ; for I am not yet ascended to my Father ; but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father and your Father ; and to my God and your God." — John xx. 16, 17. Jerusalem is silent now, Her priests and warriors sleep ; And dimly on yon vaulted brow. The stars their vigils keep ; Unheeded is that voiceless gloom — That stillness has no dread To her that weeping seeks the tomb Of the beloved Dead. The morn on Zion's lonely hill. Has cast no beams abroad ; Yet Mary's footstep lingers still — She goes to seek her Lord : { (60) Why stands she wondering ? — Hands unknown Have burst the shroud and pall, And rolled away the sealed stone, And rent the prison wall. Jesus, the Dead,' she sees no more, And weeps in fond alarm, — - O, shall she not upon him pour Her spices, myrrh and balm ? Blessed One ! thy love and faith are great, Is not thy triumph near ? Yes, He thou seek'st doth on thee wait, Mary ! behold Him here. ^ I SLEEP, BUT MY HEAET WAKETR — Canticles, v. 2. The Church is slumbering. She that once awoke And girded on her beautiful array. And went forth terribly, is idle ; yea. Is sleeping now. She thinks not how she broke Her dreamings once, and shook off the stern yoke Of Ignorance and Cruelty. The gloom Of night is on her — gone is that fair day. She is all lovely — is it for the tomb ! Will not the few sad watchers for her, pray That everlasting sleep be not her doom ? That in her silent chamber the strong ray Of Life poured down, shall cause her to betake Herself to weeping for her once bright bloom ? — Church, that art slumbering, — is thy heart awake ? (61) THY WILL BE DONE. When sorrow casts its shade around, And pleasure seems our course to shun ; When nought but grief and care is found, 'T is sweet to say, " Thy will be done." When sickness lends its pallid hue, And every dream of bliss has flown, . When quickly from the fading view Recede the joys that once were known, The soul resigned will yet rejoice. Though life's last sand has nearly run ; With humble faith and trembling voice, It still replies, "Thy will be done." When called to mourn the early doom Of one Affection held most dear. While drops upon the closing tomb The silent, the expressive tear; Though love its tribute, sad, will pay. And earthly streams of solace shun. Still, still the gracious soul will say. In lowly dust, " Thy will be done." Whate'er, O Lord, thou hast designed To bring my soul to thee, its Trust, If mercies or afflictions kind. For all thy dealings. Lord, are just — (62) Take all! but grant in goodness free, The love that ne'er Thy stroke would shun Support this heart and strengthen me To say in faith, " Thy will be done." »TIS TO THE EAST THE HEBEEW BENDS. 'T IS to the East the Hebrew bends. When morn unveils its brow ; And while the evening rite ascends, The East receives his vow. Dear to the exile is the soil That reared Jehovah's Vine ; Dear to the wretched heir of toil Thy memory, Palestine ! 'T is to the East the Hebrew turns, The East ! to Hebrews dear, When kindling recollection burns, When memory claims the tear. Land of the Patriarch ! he recalls The days of promise, when The timbrel rang along thy halls. And God communed with men. Where Babel murmured Judah's wrongs, The banished Hebrew sighs ; Where Zion swelled her holy songs. His tribute seems to rise ; (63) And Hope still wings his tliouglit afar, — It tells to those that roam, That He who rode the cloudy car Will guide His children home. THOU! IN THIS DAEK WOELD OF OURS. O Thou ! in this dark world of ours, Whose voyagers tempt a surging sea, Where Guilt flaps wings and Passion lowers, Who can direct and save, but Thee ? For deeper rolls the Gulf of Sin, And higher still its billows climb, And few the port in safety win — Survivors of the wrecks of Time. Yet here Religion sheds the light That elevates, refines, reforms ; That burns upon the brow of Night, A lovely Star, beset with storms ; That shines along the rebel's track, And floods with radiance Error's feet ; That woos the weary wanderer back. And lifts Despair to Glory's seat. Her presence is continual balm. That heals beyond the power of art ; Her words the hell of anguish calm, Her smile is heaven within the heart. (64) Peace at her mandate takes the throne, Where Woe and Ruin ruled before ; And tumults die at Mercy's tone Of " Daughter, go, and sin no more ! " That Gospel shall not all obey, And thus deliverance bless the world Wherever folly takes its way, — Wherever clouds of grief are curled ? So be it, Lord ! — let work and prayer With blessings clothe affliction's rod, Till all Thy laborers mingle where The pui'e and perfect see their God. SUNDAY SCHOOLS IN THE WEST. He came to drink his bitter cup. And men accorded not acclaim ; Yet from young lips a shout went up That put the frowning priests to shaiiie. Beyond the skill to Levites known When trump to answering cymbal calls, Was that rich swell of touching tone That met Him in Moriah's halls. Since then in deep forgetfulness The harp of Infancy had lain, Till Sunday Schools were sent to bless. And bid its lispings live again. (65) To this dark world 't was gladdening hour, When voices that had slumbered long, In all the charms of childhood's power "Woke up to holiness and song. Right well 't was then, to mark the boy Still tending sky-ward, led by Love, And as he journeyed, singing, " Thou ! My Father, — art my guide above." And cheeks, where rioted the curl. To see suffused with tears for sin ; And holy smiles, by which that girl Kevealed the quiet peace within ! Of gifts from man, was his* the best In yonder isle, whose patient prayer Brought dews upon that vine to rest, And England's thousands sheltered there. And friendly to my country's weal Was he that bore across the wave The tree, whose leaves refresh and heal, Whose branches flourish on the grave. Shall not to him — the noble one — Be grateful tribute ever paid. Who gave its blossoms to our sun, To cheer us with its balm and shade, — * Eobert Eaikes. 6* (66) And led our little ones among Its bowers, safe from wanderings, As watchful shepherds win their young To verdant vales and silver j springs? Yes I and to those whose beaming eyes Have lately looked upon the West, And said, beneath its pleasant skies This plant shall shelter the oppressed. And tower above the lordly pines, And fling its fragrance round the land, From Alleghany's wilds, to where Pacific's billows kiss the strand, — Be thanks ; — yet rather, Holy Lord ! From Thee it comes, to Thee they 're given ; And Thou wilt send the searching word That saves, restores, and lifts to Heaven. i (67) THE BUEDEN AND THE CKOSS. " Now I saw in my dream, that the highway which Christian was to go was fenced on either side with a wall, and that wall was called Salvation ; Isa. xxvi. 1. Up this way, therefore, did burdened Christian run ; but not without great difficulty, because of the load on his back. He ran thus till he came at a place somewhat ascending ; and upon that place stood a Cross, and a little below, in the bottom, a sepulchre. So I saw in my dream, that just as Christian came up with the Cross, his Burden loosed from off his shoulders, and fell from off his back, and began to tumble, and so continued to do, till it came to the mouth of the sepulchre, where it fell in, and I saw it no more." — Pilgnrri's Progress. We bear along our toilsome way A burden, taken at the birth ; How deeply, sadly, none may say, It bows the wearer down to earth. 'T is written, like the prophet's scroll, All sighs without, all woes within ; It lays upon the fainting soul The grievous malison of sin. There is no peace around the board. Though heaped with meats, and crowned with wine ; There is no peace, where heaven hath stored For man domestic bliss divine. There is no peace in balmy sleep ; No angel there, to bid it seem Like Eden, where immortals keep Watch o'er the lips of those that dream. To madness urged, we leave our home, God knows with what disturbed intent (68) To crush reflection as we roam, — To wander, till His grace is spent ! Yet vain to us the painted fields, Or valleys smiling with the sheaf; The roadside flower no sweetness yields To travelers in their guilt and grief. Go where we may, it goes with us ; At home, abroad, or well, or ill ; In mirth, in joy, the constant curse Is woven with existence still. It shames us in the open mart ; It dyes our cheek in secret hour ; It sits, a vulture, on the heart. And tortures with uns|)aring power. Across the desert lies the way To that high place of fearful name ; We choose it, and, regardless stray. To Sinai's awful mount of flame. The tenfold trumpet, waxing loud And louder, warns the sinner thence ; How may he shun — the lost, the proud — The Law that slays for one offence ! Shall we, with Christian, take the path, That points, as worldlings deem, to loss, But, leading from impending wrath, That brings the Pilgrim to the Cross ? Oh, we may travel folly's road. Bowed with our burden to despair ; Yet, never, never drop the load, Till, taught by grace, we leave it there ! (69) How many painful steps he took ! What heavy groanmgs rent his breast ! Till, casting on that sight a look, At once he found relief and rest. And thus 't is ever with the heart That turns aside to solace, vain ; It cannot with its anguish part ; The guilt and burden must remain. O God ! when finding out the cheat Of this delusive world below, We turn away our weary feet. And to the Cross with weeping go, — How blest to feel, while gazing, all That weighed our spirit down before, Loosed by thy love, forever fall Where Mercy ne'er shall see it more! ROBERT RAIKES IN THE SUBURBS OF GLOUCESTER. " It was his custom to visit in person the families of the poor, and to per- suade the parents to feel interested in the well-being of their children ; while at the same time he persuaded the children to come to the Sunday school." And who is he that 's seeking, With look and language mild. To heal the heart that 's breaking. And save the vagrant child ? He searches lane and alley, — The mean and dark abode, — From Satan's hosts to rally The conscripts due to God. (70) Witli words of kindly greeting, Warm from an honest heart, He 's Ignorance intreating In Wisdom to have part. With charity unfailing, He patiently doth take Eebuke and sinful railing, For Christ the Shepherd's sake. He wins from vicious mothers The children of neglect, The sisters and the brothers From households sadly wrecked. And these, the Truth impressing Beneath his gentle rule, Have called on him a blessing, Who formed the Sunday school. I 'd rather my life's story Should have such episode. Than all the gorgeous glory Napoleon's history showed. For when no more war's banner With shouting is unfurled. These children's sweet hosanna May shake the upper world. (71) THE SACRAMENTS. But shall they be my God ? or shall I have Of them so foul and impious a thought, To think that from the curse they can me save ? Bread, wine, nor water, me no ransom brought. John Btmyan. I BRING unto the Font, with holy feeling, My blossom, sweet, and yet defiled ; And crave the sign, that Love is here revealing, To seal, for aye, my child. Yet cannot deem these pure innocuous waters Sprinkled on the appealing face — Can ever give to Adam's sons or daughters Eestoring hfe and grace. I do approach with awe and sacred pleasure The Feast of origin divine — And here, though poor, do take all glorious treasure, HandUng the bread and wine. Yet cannot think the Eucharist is food To satisfy the starving mind That feeds on sin. Here, if my sin intrude, My Lord I may not find. (72) THE FACE OF DEATH. "What a spiritual expression Death doth ever wear ! 'T is as if its own impression Heaven writeth there. Something of eternity In that fixed face you see. Or, as if the soaring spirit, Leaving dust alone — Ere she mounted, lingering, gave it Image of her own ; Settmg solemn seal on earth. Known again at glorious birth. Listen, mother ! — by this token Joy shall follow pain ; Ties shall be renewed, now broken, She shall live again ! Then thy beauteous babe will shine With a countenance divine ! (73) CHRISTIAN WARS. A Turk, at Jerusalem, once said to Mr. Wolff, the missionary, " Why do you come to us ? " The missionary replied, "To bring you peace." " Peace ! " replied the Turk, leading Mr. Wolff to a window, and pointing him to Calvary, " there, upon the very spot where your Lord poured out his blood, the Mohammedan is obliged to interfere, to prevent Christians from shedding the blood of each other." The angels' song, that happy night When spirits stooped to mortal ken, "Warbled from lips and lyres of light, Was, Peace on earth. Good Will to men. In Peace, the sages came, and paid Their offering of the gold and myrrh ; And why such bliss on Mary laid ? — She felt that Peace had come to her. Peace was the theme, when precepts dropt From Jesus' lips, like his own dew ; Who oped their eyes ? Who ears unstopt ? His name was Peace — 't was all they knew. The word that lingered on his tongue, When sighs and suffering soon should cease, And Jesse's Root be rudely flung As a vile weed away, was Peace. 'T was " Peace," that sweetly soothed the fear Of those who mourned their Master slain ; With Peace their weapon, far and near. They won the world to Him again. (74) Pe^e is ingcribed on tliat broad scroll The angel bears whom Saint John saw |. "•Joy to all realms where pineS' a soul,- And to- the isles^ Jehovah's law ! " And yet, oh, Grod I the Cbristian^'s wrartb, Through all her seas, through all her zonesy Has in Earth's bosom hewed a path That 's whitened with her children's bonesr In thy Son's name the sword drinks blood j. In thy Son's name, since first his Star Spoke Peace, has surged the angry flood Of cruel and destructive War^ Drop, Christendom ! thy boasted namCy And, let the humble take it — those Who fear, in spite of taunt and shame,- To count their Christian fellows foesv hymn; Bvmg at the nedication of the Second Preshyterian Cbiirc^ Ciucinnati } 1830* Heart and hymn. Thy sons and daughtgrs^ Give to Thee, Incarnate "Word! Toices, as of many waters^ Answer, " Holy, Holy, Lord I " From thy sMictus^j besdingy Of whose bliss the Sun thou- art, — Listen to the 9(mg ascending. Look upon the humble heart. 6= (75) What, though to thy Name, a dwelling Mortals build, whence prayer shall rise Temples, all their art excelling. Are thy earth and painted skies ; Crowns and harps are thine for ever, Lord of Uncreated Day ! Yet from our low praises, never Wilt thou turn thine ear away. Swelling domes, unto thy glory Reared, we scarcely deem begun. Till upon each stone, the story Is inscribed, of trophies won. Here, oh Dove ! thyself revealing, Let the tear be shed for sin ; O'er us spread thy wing of healing. Be its shadow felt within. Name ! in which we raise our banner, Lay the stone and build the wall ; Name ! that wakes the glad hosanna. Name ! by which this house we call ; Opened are the doors of heaven. Lifted are the gates of God — Enter ! — souls to Thee are given. Thou that hast the wine-press trod. (76) THE PALM TEEE. Beautiful tree of the towering stem ! Wearing thy flowers like a diadem — Whose leafy garlands, always green, Always fair and flowing are seen ; Whose scarlet fruit, like coral bright, To the longing traveller yields delight ; Noblest thou of the forest throng ! To thee I give a simple song. I never saw thee, princely plant, In Syria's vales, nor in thy haunt — " The city of palm trees," Jericho, Nor where the Jordan's currents flovr, Nor where the mighty Lebanon sees, In pride, his aged cedar trees ; Nor where is found the clustering vine, Or tempting olive of Palestine ; Nor in the distant desert, where Palmyra's solemn ruins are ; — Yet I have loved thee, since a boy. It was at home my glad employ To read, beneath my father's eye, In Holy Writ; — and gladly I ' Did in the blessed Sabbath's calm, Read and talk of the stately palm ; That the Good shall be like the flourishing tree. Planted by the gushing river ; That yields in his season his fruit, and he. The evergeen, shall never wither. (77) The pilgrim eagerly looks for thee, When faint and almost spent with thirst; He knows where thou art, guiding tree, The cool deep waters freely burst. thus may I the Saviour seek. When in this desert faint and weak, Assured that He my steps will show And lead where streams forever flow. THE ELECT ANGELS. ITiM. 5: 21. O, Angels ! nearest to the King, Elected from the rest — Why, o'er those winged and flaming troops, Are ye accounted blest ? Is 't with Jehovah, Father, Son, Jehovah, Holy Ghost, Ye marshal up the glittering ranks, Co-leaders of the host? Is 't when the burning worlds roll by, And ancient Time has fled. That ye, auxiliary to Christ, Shall judge the quick and dead ? Whate'er your high behest may be. Your starry eyes, I know. Look down from golden heights, to bless The humble heart below. 7* (78) Your awful beauty shines around, Rebuking gross desire ; Your innocence consumes my sin With salutary fire. Ye are apostles unto me ; Your Presence is a call, In thought, and word, and deed, to keep The charge of holy Paul! THAT LOOK! And the Lord tux-ned and looked upon Peter. — Luke xxii: 61. That Look ! — when eye met eye — what power Was in that -wondrous Look, Which he, deemed of the Twelve a tower, Unshaken, might not brook ? Eolled forth the angry thunders then, To speak his blighting shame ? Or met that chief of fickle men The Godhead's glance of flame — Revealing, where the mocked One stood — The Scorned in priestly hall — That He, about to bear the wood. And die, was Sire of All? No ! such was not His gracious will. His nature was not so ; Yea, that He, patient, pitieth still. My soul has cause to know ! (79) Round that proud palace — dark as h-ell, With hell's completed crime — No forked and fiery vengeance fell ; 'T was not the Father's time. No ! nor on that Denier^ who For life, risked Life above ; Yet his forgiving Lord he knew In that full glance of Love ! THE INDIFFERENT. I SAW a man who had sojourned where The Saviour once did tabernacle. He Familiar was with Bethlehem, Nazareth ; knew The very site of Jacob's well ; had talked Where Jesus talked, — was intimate with all The scenes of Gospel story ; yea, had dwelt Hard by the Garden ; and his daily course Had taken o'er the soil of Calvary ; And yet he gaily spoke of these ; and smiled, And smoothed his chin, and twisted in his hair His dainty fingers, as with unconcern He took upon his lips those sacred names. And then I thought that such an one in Heaven Would ask the Crucified to show His scars, And coldly gaze, while angels blush and shrink ; And, Gallio like, care not for all these things. (80) A EECOLLECTION. I KNEW thee once where sweeps Ohio's tide ; An exile thou from thy New England home ; Yet not in western solitudes to hide, Nor to acquire rich knowledge, didst thou roam. Knowledge thou hadst, and taste, and thou couldst please With various lore ; thou didst not stray for these. But to disperse thy wealth of learning, so Thy fellow-men should profit by it well ; That Lowliness the glorious Cross might know ; That Pomp might turn aside and with Religion dwell. This was thy aim, if thee I read aright. Thou soul of modesty, and love, and light 1 Yes, and to show in action, word, and look, — The which the world most eagerly doth scan — That all was modeled from the sacred Book Whose pages pattern out the Christian man ; Who only knows, in spite of Learning's pride, The alphabet divine of Christ the Crucified. And therefore 't is no wonder unto me, That near thy dying couch the Saviour stood ; And angels' wings shook round thee fragrancy, The while they bore thee over Jordan's flood. Thus thy departure, thus the righteous die Who live the righteous ; — Jesus ! thus may I. (81) HYMN FOR THE ORGANIZATION OF A CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH. For conscience bold, our sires of old, — A heaven-devoted flock, Tempting tlie waves, — by Him who saves, Were led to Plymouth Rock. Stern "Winter's sway held shore and bay, What time they pitched their tent ; And ere Spring's bloom, unto the tomb Their flower of manhood went. Want hedged their path ; the red man s wrath, And sickness, too, they met. And griefs ; yet, God ! the way they trod. Thy mercy did beset. Two hundred years 1 — those precious tears And watchings, want and pain, Hid in that field, now freely yield A thousand fold again. 0, Sire of Grace ! we of their race, To whom their deeds are known, — Our hopes fulfilled, this church do build On Jesus Christ alone. Thy Help our stay, be ours the way Those ancient fathers trod ; Our zeal, like theirs, our toils and prayers, And ours the Pilorrim's God ! (82) CHRIST RISEN. Darkly o'er thee, Palestine ! Hangs the dreadful veil of night ; Land of Shinar ! grief is thine, Quenched the glory of thy light. Whe^e is now the promise given To thy sires of ancient day ? Where is now the lamp of heaven, To direct the wanderer's way ? Ye who, favored, saw Him, tell Of his mien, beyond compare ; Ye who marked Him when he fell, Say, was not the the Godhead there ? Yet he sunk beneath the rod — Anguish sat upon his brow — Men have triumphed in his blood. And the marble holds Him now. "Wherefore then the golden beam Springing up the eastern sky. Bright, yet soft as ^Morning's dream, When Night's empire passes by ? Wherefore then the choral hymn Floating on the wavy air — Why is rent the marble tomb ? — Jesus sleeps no longer there ! Takes He now immortal power — Every foe beneath Him lies ; (83) He has risen ! — glorious hour ! We who sleep in Him shall rise. Welcome Death ! e^ch sorrow closing, Now thj features smiles do wear ; Welcome Grave ! to flesh reposing, Jesus is the victor there. HYMN TO GOD. Almighty Thou ! although thy throne Is arched above revolving spheres, Though attributes are Thine alone In number, countless as Thy years, — Though 'neath Thy feet is darkness spread. There the hushed thunders, trembling, lie — Though, in thy Presence, fraught with dread, The unveiled worshipper may die, Yet we, O God ! a feeble band. In Jesus may acceptance claim ; Yet we, the creatures of thy hand, May come, and breathe a Father's Name. Lord of Assemblies ! O inspire Our hearts with eloquence of prayer ; From yonder temple waft the fire That glows upon thine altar there. While we approach the Mercy Seat, Once hidden, but in Christ restored — And tread, with unpresuming feet, The place of Holiest to the Lord, — (84) Hear Thou in heaven, and oh impart Some ray that burns and cheers above, The glory, telling where Thou art, - Dread Uncreate I is Light and Love. Thou art Almighty, — we are dust, — Thou art All-seeing, — finite we. In judgment erring, — Thou art just. Fountain of Strength ! we draw from thee. Shine on our worship, — Rise, thou Star Of David, chase the night away ! Bid Faith's strong vision look afar To Thee, the Light, the Truth, the Way ! THE CHINESE MISSION. Go, minister of God, To lands where soar pagodas in their pride, The soil that pagan footstep long has trod, And tell the story of a Saviour crucified. Go to the clime of night. Where, sullen, broods the darkness that is felt ; And pomt those millions to the star of Light, That burned and trembled once, above where Magi knelt. Go, and amid the din Of idol bells and heaving multitudes. Teach erring men the anthem to begin, That, whispered below, swells out in blest abodes. (85) Go — in this mortal strife The Crucified, your Captain, leads before ; Look ever to Him, — they are crowns of life He gives ; win thou for Christ the Asiatic shore. Go ! and in life's glad morn, If wills the Master here, no more we meet — With China's millions by his grace new born, He '11 gather thee and us unto His feet. THE ISRAELITE'S PRAYER. No hallowed oils, no grains I need, No rags of saints, no purging fire. Sir Henry Wbtton, 1568. O Lord ! at thy throne, a poor Israelite, kneeling, In lowliness, comes with his prayer to thee now ; With confidence, yet in emotion, revealing The reverence that awes, as he ventures to bow. Yet how shall he come ?- for the cherubim's token Is faded that waved once o'er Mercy's bright seat ; By Urim and^Thummim thy will is not spoken, And darkness is where burned Shechinah ! thy feet. No longer may he, on Samaria's mountain. Bow down, nor to Zion of David repair ; Siloa flows sweetly, yet songs by that fountain Ascend not to thee, nor from Olivet prayer. O, Thou ! that didst bring out thy chosen in power From Pharaoh, we know that thou humbledst his pride, Yet we, the delivered, are whelmed at this hour As deep as his horsemen that sunk in the tide. (86) Forgive, thou Just One ! — our fathers in follj, Forsaking thy service, to idols did turn, And under the green tree, the myrtle and holly, On high places incense to Baal did burn ; * And thou didst reject them, and judgment succeeding To judgment, gave sign of the wrath of the Lord, — Their valiant men routed, their heritage bleeding, f Thou wentest no longer with buckler and sword. And now we are peeled, and a jest to the nations, And scattered among them as leaves that are sere ; With ashes are mingled our bitter oblations, The cup of our trembling is dashed with a tear. Yet think upon Abraham ! — the oath that unto him Thou swear St by Thy Greatness, none other so high, — And think on the seed that by faith thou didst show him. As countless as stars on the Syrian sky. J That oath is unbroken! that covenant never Could perish, though Thee have thy people forgot ; That seed is uncounted — by kingdoms wherever Did families cluster, and Israel not ? Thy " Zion," though homeless and humbled, " is written," Thou graciously saidst, " in remembrance above ; " Her walls are before Thee, § and now that she 's smitten. She turns to her Maker, and sues for His love. * We acknowledge, Lord, our wickedness, and the iniquity of our fathers. — Jer. xiv. 20. t I have forsaken my house, I have left my heritage — they have made it desolate. — Jer. xii. 7, 11. X And he brought him forth abroad, and said. Look now toward heaven, and tell the stars, if thou art able to number them ; and he said unto him, So shall thy seed be. — Gen. xv. 5. ^ Behold I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands ; thy walls are continually before me. — La. xlix. 16. (87) Then, Lord, of her thousands, if here is one trusting In Thee, that would come in contrition alone, "Wilt thou not accept him, and heal the heart bursting With grief for its guilt, bj a glance from the throne ! I search for the Prince of mysterious story, — I gaze on the garden, the manger, and tree, — The tomb of his victory — I find there his glory, But Him in the mercy that looks upon me. SHALL WE KNOW EACH OTHER IN HEAVEN? , If, in that world of spotless light, Where good men dwell for ever, Those, with whom here I took delight, Shall greet my warm love never — Its joys, which eye has seen not, ear Heard not, will be most precious ; Yet loving those, the true loved here, Would make heaven more delicious. If, treading yonder crystal street. Thoughts, linked with time, come o'er me, And forms of earth I longed to greet Should pass unknown before me ; My partner, with no glance of love — My meek-eyed child, a stranger — Should I not turn from heaven above, A sad and silent ranger ? (88) Thou, who didst give to Love's sweet star, Below, its joyous lustre, Canst bid its glories shine afar Where best affections cluster ; And I '11 believe the bliss whose birth Thou spakest so fair and vernal, Undimmed, unfaded, here on earth. Like Thee, will be eternal. WAIT, WOEKINGI Wait thou on Jehovah ! instructively cries The Psalmist of Israel to thee — A guide to thy steps, and a light to thine eyes, Li darkness and doubt he will be. Wait thou on Jehovah in poverty's hour — Before him confidingly stand In meekness,*and thee will the arm of his power Exalt, to inherit the land. Wait thou on Jehovah, when wealth, like a flood, Rolls in, and still consecrate this, In time of thy stewardship, wisely, to God, Lest thou his inheritance miss. Wait thou upon Him in importunate prayer. And he will thy sacrifice own — If with it 't is humbly and truly thy care That labor is joined at the throne. (89) For poor is oblation where charity 's not, — Such formally waiting in vain Will be found, at the last, on thy garment, a spot — "What ocean may wash out the stain ? In trials and blessings that meet thee, do thou, While glad, or submissively still, Rejoice in his love, to his providence bow, And worh, as thou waitest His will. And thou, whose delight it may be, for thy Lord, In his Sunday school still to be spent — While scattering there the good seed of the Word, Scan truly thy wish and intent. Thou teachest another — has Wisdom thee taught Thy folly and weakness to see? And hast thou, in weeping and watchfulness, brought Thy charge where the sinner should be ? In prayer dost thou wait, w^here, in secret, each face Of thy class rises up to thy love — And toil for these dear ones, believing that grace Will guide them to safety above ? Wait in all on Jehovah ! not passively wait ; With zeal be thou girded and shod — Sitting down, rising up, in the house, in the gate, Oh, WORK, as thou waitest on God ! His universe serves him ; the shining ones touch Their harps, as they wait his behest — Obeyers, while waiting ; we, too, may be such, Who more than the angels are blest. 8* Q-- (90) THE ADVENT. Why, on darkness of the night, Streameth uncreated light ? Why, above the Eastern plains, Tremble those melodious strains ? Who are those of perfect mould. Wearing crowns and harps of gold ? Why is stayed each eager wing ? What ^s the glorious song they sing ? This is light from yonder throne. These are strains from heaven alone, These the errand cherubim. These the praising seraphim. And their song is of the plan So just to God, so safe to man. And of Him, who diadem Leaving, comes to Bethlehem, Mortals rescuing, sin-beguiled, "Mighty God! mysterious Child!" Hark ! in symphony they play, Golden strings repeat the lay ; An injured God, a frowning throne, Mercy to the rebel shown ! Sweetly, each immortal chord Tells of the descended Lord, — The bleeding Lamb an offering made, Earth restored, the pardon paid. Praise Him ! — when celestial wires Waken, where are earthly choirs ? (91) Praise Him I — when the hosts above Laud Him, where is mortal love ? Praise Him ! praise Him ! who hath given Peace on earth, and joy in heaven. THE VOICE. Oh ! what a Voice comes 4n the stilly hush Of solemn twihght, when the world's loud rush Is silenced! — and it speaketh sadly, then, Of hours misspent, of folly wrought by men. That Voice is heard amid the busy din Of life. In toil and pleasure, deeds of sin Long since forgotten, as accusers, come Up to remembrance ; awful is their sum ! That Voice ! — where comes it not ? — take wings, take wings. And still it follows with its tale of things Thou lovest not to dwell on, — in thick night. Day, distance, yea, even now, unto thy flight To dreary solitude and hurried throng, — Telling that God is right, and thou art wrong. (92) LAUREL HILL CEMETERY; Near Philadelphia. When my spirit leaves the claj, And the holy priest doth say Over me, in humble trust, " Earth to earth, and dust to dust," And this mortal — tribute paid — In its narrow cell is laid, Till it gladly, quitting tombs. Immortality assumes, — Be that refuge of the weary In this lovely cemetery. Or in scenes inviting one To repose, his labor done, As these kindly do invite Me to tarry death's long night. Let me take my slumber, then. Far from haunts of busy men. In a spot as fair as this. Where the playful breezes kiss Early blossoms, fragrant flowers. Let me, in such quiet bowers. Find at last my resting place. Flesh to grave, and soul to grace ! 'Mid such peaceful Sabbath reigning, 'Mid such melancholy plaining Of sweet birds above my head. Would I tarry when I 'm dead, — (93) Would I take ray solemn ease, Till old Time his centuries Endeth. Let me in such ground, When the world breaks up, be found. Here I'd rather choose to lie Than in crowded charnels ; I Shudder at the thought of fingers Rudely handling that which lingers Of the mouldering form, and tossing Relics round, with jest and scoffing, As if they were vilest earth, — Making of corruption mirth. Far from violated tombs. Lay me where the laurel blooms, — Where the murmuring river flows With the cadence of repose. Like a hermit would I steal Hither, where the vexing wheel Of the toiler is not heard, — Where the carol of the bird Mingles with the zephyrs' talk, — Where, at noon, the shady walk Beckons pilgrims, — where is found Room for lodgers of the ground ; — Where no sullen city waU Casts its shadows, like a pall, — Where no sacrilegious stir Mocketh at the slumberer, — Where the friend may sigh alone Over the recording stone. And lament of love be given Only unto pitying Heaven. -o (94) In these groves where Wisdom museth, In this spot Religion chooseth, Let me mj appointed time Wait, till stars no longer chime, — Till the music of the spheres Stops forever, and the ears Of the breakers from the tomb Hear the trumpet's call to doom. HYMN TO GOD ON THOUGHTS. It may be, from outbreaking sin Thy mercy hath me kept ; I fear me lest o'er faults, within, My spirit long hath slept. Faults known to Thee — forgot by me ; All unconfessed, unwept. How far I am from outward act Of grievous error free. Unstained by damning vice, — the fact My fellow men may see; Not these, not these ; — what I deplore Is scanned alone by Thee. And such — not all their wild extent Can I of surety know, How with my beating heart are blent The pulses of the foe 5 Who courses in my purple flood, And taints it in its flow. (95) Could I escape Thouglit's dreadful power, Nor creep to death its slave, 1 'd purchase one such angel-hour "With life, and hail the grave ; Or, doomed to longer pilgrimage, Life's many woes would brave. Could in these bitter waters be Some branch of healing cast, I 'd murmur not, though yet by me A desert 's to be past Of care and toil — not dreary sin — To Canaan's land at last. 'T is not of sickness I complain. Though this hath made me moan ; Bereavement wakes no angry strain. Though this, O God, I 've known ! I 'd bear these chiders, as I 've borne. For these are all thine own. 'T is not that thou hast scourged away My early, pleasant schemes, And on my plans of riper day Hast written, "empty dreams ;" And taught me earth's enchantment is Far, far from what it seems. 'T is not that to hope's flower of pride, Which grew within my door, A worm was sent ; the floweret died — And joyful hope is o'er. He whom I love is shipwrecked, tossed On seas without a shore. (96) 'T is not that, daily, I may see How silent grief drinks up Her life, who is my life to me. Who took with me that cup. And drained it to its dregs of pain ; — Oyfew such horrors sup ! I, foolish wanderer, truly know That these are well for me ; These are hut blessed guides to show The path that leads to Thee — Yea, in my greatest grief I count My greatest joy to see. But 't is vain Thoughts that me perplex ; And sinful Thoughts, that rise Like clouds of troops, all armed, to vex My journey to the skies. O, how they muster, when my soul On heaven would fix her eyes ! And when I come to Thee in prayer, Hell knows the favored hour ; Lo, all its legion Thoughts are there, Impatient to devour ! Yea, weeping at my Saviour's Cross, I feel their cruel power. My God I I cry to Thee in pain ; Thou art my hope at last ; Free me from the accursed chain, So strongly round me cast, — And Thee I '11 praise along my way, And when my journey 's past. (97) Yet, " if to suit some wise design," I must be longer tried ; And this stern trouble must be mine, Perhaps to humble pride — Help ! Thou, who, in Gethsemane, Temptation, sore, defied. PALESTINE. Long hath the Crescent's glittering sign On Salem's temple shone ; Long hath Jehovah's awful shrine Stood desolate and lone. The tents of Midian tribes unblest On Shinar's plains are spread ; And wandering feet have rudely prest The soil where Jesus bled. But Shiloh comes to bless the land, And Israel's tribes restore ; Lo ! Edom, with Assyria's band. On Calvary shall adore. Fair Lebanon shall hear his voice, And lands where Jordan flows, "With Sharon's desert shall rejoice. And blossom as the rose. -^ (98) No more shall Zion's daughter mourn, Or captive Judah sigh ; Jehovah shall her walls adorn, And bring his ransomed nigh. AH OATH ON WOMAN'S IIPST Though pouting out with youth and health, 'T would blast their rich and tempting red > I cannot join such living wealth Of sweets with what is sour and dead. An oath on "Woman's lips I — let mem Touch rudely, strings that jar above, — iShe snaps the cords and breaks the plan Of Heaven, by other word than Love, An oath on Womam's lips ! — in vain Her eyes are starry worlds of light j Her voice as when soft lyres complain. Her skin of the celestial white j Tis lost to me. She only geem& The twofold wonder fables tell, That charm and frigly; the sleeper's dreams- — An an^el and a fiend of heU. ^0 (99) STAND AND SEE! " And Moses said unto the people, ' Fear ye not ; stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will show you to-day.'" — Exodus, xiv. 13. Stand ye, on whom, in duty's path, Innumerous open dangers press ; On whom awaits some secret scath, Along the howling wilderness ; Stand still, and trust, and so shall ye The fiery Cloud and Pillar see. Stand ye, on whose devoted head Stern poverty in tempest lowers ; Or chained to wasting sickness' bed, Or counting melancholy hours, Or shedding tears on love's lone grave, — Stand, and behold an Arm to save. Stand ye, between whose soul and Heaven Is interposed the veil of fear. That shuts out all the glory given From God, to bless his children here. 0, wherefore did ye doubt his grace ? Look up and see your Father's face. Stand ye, of every name, who wear The colors of our common King — His soldiers, hemmed, and faint, prepare To see Him blest deliverance bring. Up ! through this Eed Sea take your way, And see Salvation's work to-day. (100) And stand, my spirit ! — none like thee, Methinks, so apt to fear and fall ; Rest on His mercy, who can free And ransom from the sinner's thrall. Who bids His goodness pass before The heart that pants to love him more. Yet one more wilderness thou 'It pass, And Mercy will conduct thee through, Till gladly on the Sea of Glass Thou 'It stand, and serve, and worship, too. Till then, the victory expect, That crowns the host of God's Elect. FALL ON US AND HIDE US! When the great captains and the mighty men Wail at the Judgement, and, to shun the ken Of searching Justice, call on rocks aloud — Yea, when earth's conquerors, the tall and proud. Shrink from His coming, and, as mountains quake, Their prayer to them in agony do make, — Whence is the terror ? Wherefore quail these tremblers ? Whose scorching glances trouble the dissemblers ? Is it for Him who spake on Sinai ? — Fear The guilty men, those guarding lightnings here ? No ! — thought dwells not upon Jehovah now ; They heed not kindlings of the Father's brow ; Too well they know, the anger that shall damn To outer darkness — cometh from the Lamb! (101) THE WIDOW'S MITE. " The "Widow's Mite ! " — who ever saw — Since Jesus saw — that wondrous sight, Fulfilling all the royal law To God and Man, "The Widow's Mite?" And who for fame, or who for love To body, intellect, or soul, To man below, or God above, Has yielded, since that hour, the whole ? Not one ! not one ! — the Jewish age Has only such example shown ; It stands, a marvel, on the page Of eighteen hundred years, alone. "aS^c, of her penury, gave her all," And shrank, in silence, from the crowd ; Thoic canst thy gifts by hundreds call, And set thy name among the proud. Yet give ! — but on thy deed do not — So often done — a falsehood write ; Nor to foul avarice add the blot Of naming it, " The Widow's Mite.'* Nor deem the blazoned gift of gold. Or paltry alms that fears the light. For " blest memorial " will be told. Or thought of, as " The Widow's Mite ! " 9* (102) WHO CAEES FOR JACK? Who cares for Jack ? — Not one, not one ; Each has his selfish care, — But for the friendless Sailor, none Kind word or thought can spare. Who cares that still alone is his The ocean's rugged way ; By night unquiet rest, and toil And bitterness by day ! Who cares for Jack ? — he has no friend To soothe his weary woe ; If tears are his, no heart is his On which those tears may flow. Who cares when pallid sickness bends On him its angry frown, Or when from the ship's plank he sinks A thousand fathoms down ? Who cares for Jack, — his voyage done ? — The eager landlord cares ; And to the utmost farthing strips The victim of his snares ; Yes, there are spoils along the deeps, And ocean has its shoals, — But the dry land has more than these — The hopeless wreck of souls. Hallo ! hallo ! the flag is up, 'T is nailed to yonder mast ! Thank God ! the Sailor's battered hulk Is near The Bethel cast. (103) Hallo ! hallo ! a friendly port, From cruel landsharks free ; Now, comrade, bear a hand, and look ! The Sailor's Home for thee. Here thou wilt meet with noble hearts, A willing mess wilt share, And none to mock thy true attempt To seek thy God in prayer. Who cares for Jack ! The proud may not • Yet when seas pass away He, with a starry crown, may shine More bright and pure than they. CHILDREN'S WORSHIP. FIRST VOICE. O, TELL me, while the blessed ones Their wings in worship fold, Discoursing words of melody To instruments of gold — While thousand thousands pass the praise. Where kneeling ranks are seen, And voices, as the talk of seas, Are heard the songs between -— Why should the Saviour turn aside From notes that ravish so. And hearken, while inferior chords Sound up from earth below ? (104) SECOND VOICE. Once, to the Lord, in Palestine, Was sung an infant hymn, "When children of Jerusalem Abashed the Sanhedrim, And owned the lowly Teacher, who, Incarnate, was from high. Whom Jewish men nailed up in scorn, With murderers to die. Now, Lord of Glory, to His ear Well pleasing is the song That rises with the Sabbath sun. From childhood's happy throng ; For He that spans the rolling worlds, And marks the seraph's way, Will not disdain when infant years His perfect will obey. But kindly through disparting skies His shining way he rends, To hear the early hymn that with His upper music blends ; Descending to the lowly praise That breathes from lips of love, Unmindful of the song that breaks Around His throne above. FIRST AND SECOND VOICES. Then, while in blessedness we walk Where angels never trod. We '11 give, with holy cheerfulness. The humble heart to God. ( 105 ) On this the Saviour looketh down From place of cherubim, And for this worship leaves awhile The everlasting hymn. THE SAILOE'S BETHEL. I BOWED within the house of prayer That lifts a decent dome, "Whose starry standard told me where The Sailor finds a home. And there knelt weather-beaten forms, The last of many a crew — And cheerful youth, who scarce the storms Of cold existence knew. The preacher prayed, — Jack dashed the tear From off his rugged face ; The preacher plead, — Jack smiled, for Fear To Hope had given place. I've worshipped where cathedrals flung Their arches o'er the proud ; I 've listened, when to organ rung The anthem of the crowd ; — But never in the brilliant aisle Where rings and diamonds blazed — And each vast pillar of the pile SubUmely stood upraised, — (106) Such fellowship of heaven have felt, As when, beneath that dome, With Ocean's hardy sons I knelt, And found myself at home. HIS PATH IS THE OCEAN, HE MAKETH HIS DWELLING. His path is the ocean, he maketh his dwelling "Where tempests are cradled, and winds rudely blow ; His joys, like the billows he buffets, now swelling, And now like to them sunk forgotten below. On land with his messmates to share he is willing. By veterans in wickedness easily led ; He 's fleeced, cast adrift, when is gone the last shilling, The sky for his covering, the pavement his bed. By perils, by watchings, by misery broken, Of the world he is weary, though few are his years ; Does he sigh for a letter ! — to him none has spoken Of the clime where forever are wiped away tears. In penury now, and in dread of the morrow, He 's friendless, forsaken, and haggard, and mean ; The jest of the thoughtless, he lingers in sorrow, Till Death kindly enters and closes the scene. And such is the Mariner ! — such was he, rather. Till justice had taught us our duty to him ; Now gladly and freely, life's comforts we gather Around his rough course, so long dreary and dim. Q- (107) Lifers comforts ! — yes, and to him shall be given, From hearty benevolence here running o'er The Chart that directs the poor wanderer to heaven ■ The Star that shines out on Eternity's shore. In storms shall rise sweetly the Sailor's devotion, His song in the calm of the beautiful sea, In Bethels ashore, in his toil on the ocean, To God, who the God of the lowly will be. NONE SAVED BY MY CAEE. The judgement day ! the judgement day ! When flaming worlds will haste away, — If mine it is that day to stand, A ransomed one, at Thy right hand, — How could I gaze upon the throng That wake on golden lyres the song. If none, that day, the rapture share. Led by my love and labor there ? While spirits, each to each, would tell Of weal and woe that here befell. Should I not, from the frowning throne, Wander in heaven, unblest, alone ? While life is lent, before that day Draws on, when toil is past away, Let me, well learned the heavenly road. Lead others the same path to God. (108) THE STAR OF JESUS. "When o'er long night the bursting dawn In youthful bloom appeared — When angels hymned the rising morn, And songs in heaven were heard — Amid the burning orbs that gemmed Jehovah's viewless throne, In native glory diademed, One Star was seen alone. - O'er Palestine, fair Solyma, Benignantly serene, Precursor of a brighter day, The harbinger was seen. The captive saw the symbol shine — His broken fetters fell ; The Shepherd marked the peerless sign That told Immanuel. In latter time, we view it bum With undiminished ray ; It leads the Pagan's glad return, It cheers the wanderer's way. On sea and land, at home, afar. Its beam to Peace inclines ; From East to West, the holy Star, The Star of Jesus shines. (109) FOE AMEEICA. God — of earth the only Ruler — Why should earth forget thee so ! God of nations, shall the nations Thee, their only Ruler, know ? Old dominions, proud dominions — How they rose, the boast of men ! But they knew not God, and therefore Sank they into dust again. Where art thou, imperial Tyre? City from the ocean won — Hundred-gated Thebes and Memphis, Nineveh and Babylon ? God, how slow to learn are nations ! Else should we have spelled thy Name ; In their end have read thine anger ; — Grant that ours be not the same. New Republics, tall Republics, Homes of free and fearless men — As the ancient, proud dominions. Thou wilt sink to dust again, If they know Thee not. — O Ruler, Let not ours forget Thee so ; God of nations, let our nation Thee, its only Ruler, know ! 10 (110) THE FLAG OF THE CROSS. Beneath thy folds, holy Cross ! The gallant vessels trimly go ; Joy at the helm — delay or loss Such heavenly voyage may never know. The ships of Tarshish trooping first, As clouds and homeward doves are seen ; The leaping Hebrew treads the dust Of long lost, lovely Palestine. I see thee waving from the prow Where herald-feet in beauty are ; To dying nations bearing now The healing beams of Jacob's Star. A thousand thousand masts display To wondering realms, thy sacred sign ; I see it stream o'er sea and bay, From either Arctic to the Line. I see thee float where warriors rushed, At hell's alarum, to the strife ; — And rusting swords, and tumults hushed, Tell only of the Prince of Life. Foes tremble, as from tower to tower They mark thy glorious signal fly ; (Ill) Saints upward look ; they know the hour Of their redemption draweth nigh. God, the hour speed on ! speed on ! "When sin's tall wave shall wildly toss Thy Church no more ; when, conflict done, She '11 sing of victory 'neath the Cross. THE WAEKIOR-SONG OF PRAYER. Come Warriors ! to the earnest fray ; Enlisted ye for life, Ye must be up for Christ, to-day ; All eager for the strife. Your swords all keen, your swords all bright, Your breast-plates girded on — Gather ye to the glorious fight ; A Kingdom must be won. Come on, as mail-clad veterans do, And let the work be warm ; Your weapons are not frail nor few, — Take heaven itself by storm. No fear ! — who fears ? — God's tallest towers, 'T is yours, in faith, to scale ; And He, himself, will nerve your powers Against them to prevail. ( 112 ) In His Name venture rock and crag ; The coward only falls ; — Come on ! He 's honored when your flag Is planted on his walls. Yes, to the shout of victor-cheer, That, conquerors, ye shall bring — God will bestow approving ear, And vanquished Heaven will sing ! THE ANGEL'S WING. There is a German tradition, that when a sudden silence takes place in a company, an angel at that moment makes a circuit among them, and the first person who breaks the silence is supposed to have been touched by the wing of the passing seraph. And why should wisdom smile at this ? Are not those perfect beings nigh, To witness and to share our bliss. To hear and hush the secret sigh ? Yes, they may Heaven's solace bring, Then scorn not thou, the Angel's Wing ! Thou ! who, alone, thyself dost deem A solitary in thy grief — List ! soft as footfall of a dream. Comes one to bear thee sweet relief; And fled is all thy hoarded care, The passing Seraph's Wing is there ! (113) Thou, who, forgiven, dost possess The penitent's intense delight. When the dark eloud of guilt's distress Eeveals to t^ee its edge of light, — Think ! as unhallowed tempests flj, Thy soul is touched, the Wing is nigh ! And thou, of contemplative mood, Who dost at eve in wild woods stray, Where nought of this world may intrude, When fancy might in others play. And hearest the voice that zephyr flings — No ! 't is the rush of Angel Wings. Oh, I have paused a space, as 't were. Bewildering thoughts to gather up, — To put aside the draught of care. And taste of Mind's exalted cup ; Nor knew what o'er my soul could bring Such calmness, was the Seraph's Wing. When brooding tempters caused me shame. And in its company of sin My spirit sat — the Angel came. And swept with Wings the heart within ; A moment made its circuit there, And broke my silence into prayer. I knelt beside my precious boy, Who went, at childhood's fairy time, My hope, my life, my being's joy — From this to Love's unclouded clime ; And, while around wept pitying men, Rejoiced — the Angel touched me then ! 10* {11^) And at my own departing hour, When earth recedes and follies fly, To comfort me with heavenly power Descend ! some herald of the sky - And while of victory I sing, Bear me away on upward Wing ! REVIVAL. In our secret souls we know it, Griefs confess and joy doth show it, Lowly sigh and quiet tear Tell, the Holy Ghost is here ! Simeon's song from old men, now, Lisping praise from children, now, Young men bowed, the influence feeling, Maidens, in their meekness, kneeling — Faltering hymn, and broken prayer, Moanings of the heart's despair, Peade, revealed, of pardoned sin. Tell, the Spirit is within ! (115) MINISTERING. " If Jesus were still a man of sorrows, not having where to fey his head, Piety might spread him a table and provide him a home, Affection might weave for him the seamless garment, or break the alabaster box of oint- ment of spikenard, very precious, for his burial. Poverty herself might wash his feet with her tears, and wipe them with her hair. Wealth might find him a new sepulchre, hewn in the rock, where never man was yet laid. And as a final act of homage. Gratitude might bring her spices and oint- ments, about a hundred pounds weight, as the manner was of the Jews to bury." — Decapolis. Saviour ! wert thou now below, 'T would be my joy to follow thee ; Where thou wouldst lead, I 'd freely go, And naught should keep my Lord from me. 1 'd haste to serve thee ; and to wait In humblest duty at thy feet, Prefer to thrones of mortal state. Or e'en a burning seraph's seat. How sweet to minister to Thee, Who once our earth in pity trod ! How blest, a household guest, to see The Man of grief, the very God ! Yet though I cannot do as they Who waited on thy earthly need — To serve thy heavenly state I may ; And minister to thee indeed. ^O (116) I may bring tliee the soul undone, That ne'er before had sought thy face ; I may win home a wretched one, Who far has wandered from thy grace. Thou wouldst be honored more, by toil Of mine to save some erring soul, Than if I could the countless spoil Of worlds submit to thy control. Thou wouldst discern more real love In act of mine, the lost to gain. Than if such praise as peals above I gave thee — could I peal such strain. Then let me ne'er lament, that I May nothing do for thy dear Name, While deathless ones are near to die, While sons of God are heirs of shame. MINISTERS. He who medicines the Sick Will himself diseased be, If for self he use no trick Baffling the infirmity ; Lo ! his patient laughs at Death ; Lo ! the victory he doth win ; All the while Fever's breath Unaware, he sucketh in. He who ministers to hearts Rotten with infectious guilt, (117) Sees decay his own good parts, Sees his wounded graces wilt, If unwonted Unction's power Feedeth not the holy flame ; — "Woe for self the evil hour Given to others* Sin and Shame ! He who soundeth Mercy's call, And doth others* hearts unlock While his oivn is stupid, shall Find his own become a rock ! He who other vineyard keepeth, — Noting half the Master's rule — O'er his own — a sluggard — sleepeth. Cheats himself, and is a fool ! ANNUAL CONCERT OF PRAYER FOR THE WORLD. if Now up ! ye that have interest In Heaven's holy love, — Ye that for Zion travail sore. Look to her Help above. And up ! ye Christian men and true, And to the throne repair. And storm and take it in the bold Conspiracy of prayer. Not for a single household, Christ Calls out his ranks to day ; Not for a town or province ye Are marshaled up to pray ; (118) The trumpet is for miglity lands ; And we have flag unfurled, And girded sword, by countless bands, In struggle for a world. And not alone, or few, are we ; From sultry Orient's shore, A cry has reached God's majesty That rent the West before. And where Pacific's corals lie, From Smyrna and Japan, From London and Jerusalem, The cry goes up for man. Not prayer and praise alone ! — your gifts Upon the altar lay ; Who gives not, cannot for a world Importunately pray. Give of abundance ; give ye, too, By poverty opprest ; Here, if at all, the widow's mite Hath honor o'er the rest. Up ! ye that signs discern, in crowds ; There's muttering in the air ; Up ! for the bow is on the clouds, The storm has past at prayer. And while the worldling asks for wealth, Ambition for its goal. We, at that open Mercy seat. Will wrestle for the soul. (119) THE CLEANSING. "Jesus went up to Jerusalem, and found in the temple those that sold oxen, and sheep, and doves, and the changers of money sitting; and when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep and the oxen ; and poured out the changers' money, and overthrew the tables; and said unto those that sold doves, Take these things hence." — John ii. 13: 16. Messiah saw within The holy court Of his own Temple, grievous sin, Traffic and mummery and sport. The money changers sat, Watching for gain, Stout oxen, sheep, lambs, sleek and fat, That should in sacrifice be slain. He drove out beast and men Forth to the day ; And to the fair dove-sellers then Said, gently, " Take these things away." How could a corded whip Expel those thence, "Wielded by one, — and not a lip Move, nor an arm in fierce defence ? 'T was not the feeble rod That made the rout : They saw his eye — they knew the God, — T\iQ present God, then flashing out! (120) THE KEFOEMED INEBKIATE'S PKAYER. God, that I no longer lie In horrid depths of sin and shame, Degraded, reckless, ruined — I Owe unto thee. — I bless thy Name ! My fellow-men had cast me out To perish ; and the brutal shout Was all I heard to comfort me. 1 saw but scorn, — I worship Thee ! There 's joy where rained but tears before ; This withered heart revives ! — 't is warm I Long tossed, I touch at last the shore, And from my soul has passed the storm. My wife ! — she never lived till now ! My girl ! — ha ! here 's a quiet brow ; My boy, with love above his years, A father's frown no longer fears. Restored, I take his lawful place, Who well fulfils great Nature's plan ; I tremble at no mortal's face ; I write myself, to-day, A man ! Whereas in sin I once was lost, A foolish wanderer, vexed and crossed — I 'm found ! I 'm found ! — I lift my head, Who lately lay among the dead. > I joy! I triumph ! yet Ifear! I am but dust, thou knowest. Lord ; (121) If Thou who led*st me, leav'st me here, I falsify my plighted word. That broken vow the entering wedge "Will be to deeper guilt. — The pledge, If kept, an angel, nigh, will be ; If broke, a devil unto me ! What can I do, if Cunning wear The mask of Wisdom, and to pass The weary hours, with smiles declare. There 's nothing like the social glass ? This I 'd resist — put down — but what If from the cleansing yet one spot Escaped — and lurks some inward will — The leprosy remaining still ! What, if in an unguarded hour, I, left alone in Virtue's pride. And seeing not the tempest lower, And hearing not the coming tide, — Beneath the Pledge my fortunes screening. Ail-proudly on my own works leaning, Should find how insufficient all My feeble arm can do — and. fall! Fall ! never, never, to regain IMy station ; — hope forever crost ; On wife, and child, and self, a stain Written in tears of blood, — all lost ! O God, it must not, cannot be : It will not, if I trust in thee ; Then as Thou art, be still my friend, And keep me even to the end. 11 (122) t He that had been possessed, and whom The Saviour did from chains unbind, — The living inmate of the tomb, Clothed, and restored to his right mind — Put up one prayer* — his prayer is mine ! O Jesus, that I may be Thine ; That where Thou art I may abide, Clinging, a child, to Thy dear side. A THOUGHT IN NONANTUM VALE, BRIGHTON. I WALK among the plants and flowers, — The air is charged with sweets ; I live, as this Arabian gale My fainting spirit greets. I go : — my garments bear away The fragrance on them laid ; And with their many-voiced perfumes Tell where to-day I 've strayed. And so the soul that seeks delight In interview with God, And hath His garden of chief spice, . Myrrh, aloes, cassia, trod, Will find, wherever he may go. The fragrance with him stay ; And Heaven, still lingering on his steps — < More odorous than May. ^ St. Mark, V. 18. (123) EAKTH. Seven * planets keep around the sun Diurnal annual course ; Attraction's law obey as one, As one, Repulsion's force. Seven planets sing, all night, all day, " Who made us is divine ; None sees us, on our spangled way. In equal beauty shine. To six, no tidings ever flew Of Pity strong to save ; The Maker's tread they never knew. Nor lent their God a grave. The seventh saw His diadems On Mary's Offspring rest ; Earth, as she journeys, wears the gems His blood and tears impressed." If thus His penury gilds our Earth, Where wept and wandered He, What splendors, where He's crowned, have birth ! How glorious Heaven must be ! God, to live and love below, That we may Him adore Where all thy saints, as suns, shall glow. When planets shine no more ! * I take the seven, known only at the close of the last century. (124) THE SCAPE-GOAT. *' And Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, putting them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him away by the hand of a fit man into the wilderness ; and the goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities into a land not inhabited." — Leviticus, xvi. 21, 22. Away to the desert the Scape- Goat flies ; On Mm the sin of the people lies ; Confession is made with the laying of hands, And he bears the transgression to desolate lands. To desolate lands, with an errand of woes, And a curse for his burden, the fugitive goes ; And none may stay him on his path — The heavily-prest with Jehovah's wrath. Now, Israel ! be glad ; — let the timbrel and song Through thy tents the thank-offering of music prolong ; From sin and transgression and bale thou art free, From the cherubim God communeth with thee. ' Tis past ! and the altar no longer is red With blood, or with flame of the sacrifice fed ; The Scape- Goat, no longer wdth burden of woes, And the curse due for sin, to the wilderness goes. And where are the sinning nations now ? Do earth's kingdoms no more to idolatry bow ? Transgression and crime, are they found not with us ? And who shall bear off the burden of curse ? ( 125 ) No Aaron is here with the laying of hands On the goat that conveys to desolate lands The guilt of the people, without and within, To leave them released from the thraldom of sin. Did Israel return to his folly again? Type, symbol, and substance — for him were they vain? Where shall the wild Gentile appear in his pride, When the olive of God even withered and died ? Priest of Melchizedek ! only to Thee Appealing he looks — for Thou only canst free ; Not a family, tribe, nor a nation alone — For a WORLD that has wandered thy blood can atone. In the Garden, on Thee, all its guilt that had past, And all that the future uncounted could cast. Was confessed, when the hands of Infinite Power Were laid on the Infinite in agony's hour. On the Cross, Thou didst take it, and bear it away To lands, where dark Death and Corruption have sway, And though fanned in their triumph by arrogant wing, Thou saw'st not their reign, and thou knew'st not their sting. To that Cross, in my sorrow, dear Saviour, I fly, Assured by the mercy that beams from thine eye, That from sin, by thy suffering, forever made free, 1 am safe, Blessed Sacrifice ! only with Thee. 11* (126) THE PULPIT STAIRS OF RURUTU. " The last pulpit that I ascended in the Society Islands, was at Rurutu, where the rails, connected with the pulpit stairs, were formed of warriors' spears." — Rev. Mr. Ellis, Missionary to the Society Islands, Barbarians of the Southern Sea, As the wild waters round them, free, Were slaves to folly, fear, and sin ; What could such to Religion win ? They knelt to idols carved of stone ; To fish and fowl, to block and bone ; They entered hell to find a god Worse than the rest, and gave him blood. The mother dug, with fierce delight, For one, just new to this world's light, A grave, — and she, a devil, vampt, The earth upon the living stampt. The son led out his old, sick sire, Where waves come in and waves retire, And left him for their rage to sweep Into the black, returnless deep. All ranks pollution understood ; To search its dreadful depths seemed good ; Daughter and sister, father, son. To work its evil work were won. (127) Warrior on warrior made attack ; Death followed fast the arrow's track ; And those whom battle spared, were doomed To be in human gorge entombed. By Cruelty and bloody Lust, By Drink, inflaming cursed thirst. By Sickness, War, and Want were they Death and Destruction's easy prey. Knew they not God ? — deemed they that Fate Had formed them for malignant hate ? Their sentient thousands brought to birth, Objects of the Creator's mirth ? Knew they not God ? — and glowed no hint Of Goodness in his sunrise tint ? Knew they not God ? — nor saw confessed Forbearance in his sunset west ? Knew they not God ! — They might have seen His beauty in the glorious green Of these fair islands ; — heard his voice In Nature's song, that bade " Rejoice ! " And witnessed, in the soil they trod, Heaved up in coral wonder — God ! And marked his footsteps, bathed in wrath, On the volcano's fiery path. Yet He, who these bright isles had cast, Gems on His robe of waves — The Past, The Present, Future, Known, Unknown, Who wheels on willing worlds His throne, ( 128 ) Who, on our virgin world of bliss Prest, when He made it, Love's first kiss, . And 'mid bis angels' glad acclaim, " Good ! " only " Good ! " pronounced its name, Was here unnamed ; — though every hill Its Maker knew ; each conscious rill, Leaping and sparkling, told of Him ; Morn's blush, and Evening's twilight dim Proclaimed the God ; — these valleys rung. In music, " God ! " Pacific sung, " God ! " mountain, mead, rill, rock, replied, " God ! God ! " — they heard not, raved and died. Till missionary's feet made glad The solitudes, by sin made sad ; Till apostolic feet to view Was beautiful on Rurutu ! TiU songs to Christ took place of cries Shrieked o'er the monarch's sacrifice ; Till tears were seen his robe to gem, Outshining his starred diadem. *o Now speaks Redemption's herald — spears Flash round him I Cease, ye busy fears ! Festooned are they in comely rails, — The Word of Promise never fails ! Memorials, they, where thousands kneel, Of wounds, that only Grace can heal ; Reminding of the Spear that slays. And brings to life, when man obeys. (129) Harmless of blood, they fence the place Where beams with heaven the teacher's face ; Nor, like the sword of Eden, burning. Hinder one wanderer from returning. Barbarians of the Southern Sea, Or Northern continents, though free As fiends incarnate are to sin — Grace, that has won my soul, can win ! PATIENT BECAUSE ETERNAL. Yea, thou forbearest. Lord, Thou renderest not reward Due to my sin. Thou knowest all my heart, Yet with me patient art, Me, vile within ! Though irritable these My passions are, — like seas Eaging aloud, — Tempests that mock control. Vexing my weary soul. Yet am I proud. Yea, proud — though of a day That 's vanishing away ; Lord, I would learn Meekness of thee, and bear Whate'er thou send'st of care, Nor trials spurn. (130) Rebelliously dotli flesh Involve me in tlie mesh Of hurtful strife ; Within my nature dwell The sparks that kindle hell ; Help — for my life 1 Like touchwood, I the flame Do catch. Lord, 't is with shame My shame I own. Bathe me anew in blood That gushes in rich flood, Fast from thy throne. Thou Wast! Thou Art! Wilt Be! Vouchsafe to lesson me To bear thy will. From open foes, false friends, And all thy love intends, Submissive still. Even as thy blessed Son, The meekly suffering One, The Deity — Patient, when woke the sword. From whom fell never word Vindictively. Who did not inward fret When sorely Him beset The powers infernal ; Most patiently who cried. Most patiently who died, Because Eternal ! (131) I'LL LOOK TO THEE. I'll look to Thee, my Saviour! when The gales of fortune gently blow, And every good, esteemed of men, It is my privilege to know. I '11 look from altars, whereon lie The coals of earth's imperfect fire, To that bright Source beyond the sky, Which burns intenser, holier, higher. I'll look to Thee, when sorrows press With awful weight upon my head, — A wanderer in this wilderness, . Alone, or with the joyless dead. When hope still sleeps, and wakeful thought Preys on its hoarded misery. Even then, by thy sweet precept taught, In tears I '11 only look to Thee. I '11 look to Thee, when sickness pales This brow, and wastes this frame away ; When strength departs and spirit fails, And all my inward powers decay. Yea, at the hour when nature faints In its last mortal agony. Strong in the Eefuge of the saints, I'll look to Thee, I'll look to Thee. (132) THE CRY. Would ST thou be cleansed from every taint Of grievous and defiling sin ? And is it truly thy complaint That Yileness lurks within ? And do thy heart-strings wail thy woe ? And pants thy spirit to be free ? And do outbreathings hourly go For perfect purity ? Alone, alone, and passion-tost ; — Though rescued from Destruction's brink, Still on the seas where souls are lost, And fearing thou shalt sink. I Spake unto thee, the Voice that charmed Judea's waters once to rest — And is not all the tempest calmed To silence in thy breast ? Hear ! — for 't is easy to the heart, That meekly sits, of Christ to learn ; Words, that to darkness light impart. In such shall clearly burn. Below thy raging sins sink down, Nor heed their stormy strife above ; Thou shalt not meet a Saviour's frown Within his arms of love. (133) Down, down in dust ! — tlie only place For lips that press despair's full cup ; — Thence the strong arm of Sovereign Grace Shall quickly raise thee up. Humility, at Jesus' feet, In wondrous beauty stands confest ; — Take by thy Lord the lowest seat, A weeping, welcome guest. *T was on the mount the pilgrim* grew A boastful man, and proud and vain, — But in the vale he had Sin's view, And was a child again. Trust Him who saveSj to cleanse thy soul ; To limit boundless Love, beware ! Grace, that begins, completes the whole; To prove it, be thy care. " For holiness ! " goes up thy cry ? 'T was mine, is mine, and still shall be ; — Yet, when I 'm humble, Christ is nigh, And blessed purity. * Pilgrim's Progress. 12 (134) BEAUTY. Thus she stood amid the stocks, Praismg God with sweetest looks. — Ruth. Modest Beauty praises God, When it sends its glance abroad, With a look of cheerfulness ; Beauty doth the Giver bless, When its roses show the hue Of bright health, with lip of dew. And religion of a face Where is written all of grace. What a holy hymn is ever With a sweet expression blent ! Sending music up, that never Skilless, soulless Art hath sent ; Rendering worship, such as we In the lines of Beauty see. From the eye of diadems. From the mouth of pearls and gems. From the smile of calm delight — Beaming intellectual light, — From the nameless, charming whole That holds empire in the soul — Doth in harmony arise Beauty's homage to the skies. (135) DIRGE FOR HARRISON. Sung at Newton, on the day of the National Fast, 14th May, 1841, in commemoration of the death of President Harrison. Given is to earth its treasure ; Relics ! slumber in the dust ; Yielded is to God the spirit, — Spirit! mingle with the Just. " Earth to earth" — if this were only Wailing in our hymns of woe, God, what darkness thy creation. Soulless, hopeless, lost, would know ! In that cry, in yonder palace. Spirit unto spirit calls ; See ! the Reaper lays the Mighty, — Yet the body only falls. Not a city, not a province — 'T is a nation hears the rod ; Awful is the lesson taught us ; — Appointer ! Thou art God ! Humbled at the throne of Heaven, Whose rebuke a people feel — . Let the tear for sin be given. Where, to-day, our millions kneel. (136) "Warrior ! Chieftain ! Statesman ! Euler ! Honor heaped upon ihj brow — Filled Ambition's golden chalice — What are these ! and what art thou ! Father! Brother! Patriot! Christian! Titles graven on the heart, — These are names by which we know thee, These and thou can never part. Given is to earth its treasure ; Relics ! slumber in the dust ; Yielded is to God the spirit, — Spirit ! mingle with the Just. THE DEATH-BED. She had his holy influence felt. Who woos with strong, yet gentle call ; And, yielding, to her Lord had knelt, And freely, gladly, given him all. So deemed she, and so others deemed ; The world believed her as she seemed. Yet not to self was self revealed ; Deceived even there, where Christians pray, Where Mercy oft its own hath sealed. Not in the open face of day, — Her wanderings had beginning where Arose the formal, closet prayer. ( 137 ) She lost her love — a grievous loss ! Though reckoned as of sraall account By lukewarm followers of the cross, Who seek not, prize not, Tabor's mount. "Who from its wondrous glories turn To where earth's little cressets burn. Yet, sometimes troubled conscience woke ; She more than doubted all was wrong ; Where was the joy she knew, when broke Light on her darkness ? where the song, When she salvation's highway trod, A pilgrim-maid, betrothed to God ? Why shunned she thus the speech of those Who talked of Christ, and loved the theme ? Why left she thus the Rock, whence flows Answer in one perpetual stream — Where sisters in their circle meet. And hearts are mingled at his feet ? O'er wanderings that no worldling knew. And by the Saviour's friends unseen, She, blinded and presumptuous, threw The self-deceiver's failing screen. From her own heart her heart to hide. She, leaving God, conferred with Pride. And yet no overt act of sin, To scandalize the church, was there ; She wore the semblance that could win Others, and to herself was fair. Mild, modest, courteous, free from strife. Of good report, of blameless life. 12* ©-- ( 138 ) She sat, as thousands sit, to hear The holy gospel's trumpet blown ; Like thousands, she that feast drew near. Spread only for the Saviour's own. And who might judge ? — who dare to say She was not truly sealed as they ? She lived, as thou, false one, dost live ; Had hopes as strong, as bright, as tkine ; Such evidence as thou canst give Was hers of claim to life divine ; Alternate joys, alternate tears, Ecstatic visions, shadowy fears. Till that « detecter of the heart," A DEATH-BED, camc ! — They looked to see How a young Christian might depart, How put on immortality. They gathered round to mark the power Of Faith, in nature's trial-hour. Mysterious Faith, which bids the old Tread that dark vale without alarm, And to the youngest of the fold Shows the kind Shepherd's helping arm, Who leads the lambs a gentle way, Where flowerets bloom and waters play. How could she hail the blessed state That never won her earnest care ? How could firm Faith a death-bed wait, Where Love stood not attendant there, Keady at the first word to fly, And bear its precious charge on high ? (139) What saw they ! — fear, beyond the fear Which those who lean on Christ should know, Who have His promise to be near In Jordan's deepest overflow ; Who at the grave of victory sing ; Who ask of baffled Death his sting. What heard they ? — sounds that never fall From lips by sweet forgiveness prest, When saints on Jesus faltering call, And sleep in Jesus, truly blest ; When near them are the convoy-band, And glory from the " better land.'* Despair gave meaning to those eyes. Whose lustre mocked the film of death ; Despair gave terror to those cries, That struggled with the struggling breath ; « God ! O God ! art thou so nigh ? I cannot ! — no, I will not die ! " She died — she died so poor, who yet Had hopes, like thine, of treasure stored ; She died — she, starving, died, who met, Like thee, with Christ around his board. Stand thy best hopes on surer ground ? Hast thou in truth, a Saviour found ? ( 140 ) CHILDEEN ARE BLESSED FOR THEIR PARENTS' SAKE. To saved ones that dwell in the bowers of heaven, "Where smiles are not dimmed by the frequent tear, With bliss that 's unfading, for ever is given Freedom from fears which preyed on them here. Earth past — they, unheeding its laugh or its care, Joy not in its joys, sorrow not for its woe, — Ever soaring and singing, the glorified there Never notice the weary or weeper below. Yet when the happy in brightness is hneeling To Him who maketh the darkness his seat, — And love and humility sweetly revealing. Is casting the crown at Immanuel's feet — Though he museth not there on the one he has left In sin to mourn, in the flesh to stay, — The cJdld, of a friend, a father bereft. Wandering alone in the perilous way, — Think ye not, then, the eye that ne'er sleepeth, Is resting in kindness and care on that son ? That God, who the seed of the righteous keepeth. Guards, and will guard him, till toiling is done ? Oh, surely, the sighs and the prayers of the good For children, are heard in their confident trust ; And Heaven replies as no parent could. When lips that breathed them are sealed in dust. (Ul) SUNDAY SCHOOL MISSIONARY. He traverses the fertile fields . Of pleasant Maryland ; And in the Old Dominion Doth the Missionary stand. In sunny Carolina's Pine and cotton ground, By the flooded rice-plantation, The journeyer is found. Along the fervid plains Of Georgia, not delaying, Among the growth of canes Of Alabama, straying. And onward, onward goeth he, Unwearied in his way, Till hoarsely thunders on his ear The surging Florida. He climbs the Alleghany's side, And seeth from its crown Ohio's ever busy tide To ocean sweeping down. He tempts the waters — on he hies, A transitory guest — And open to his joyous eyes The splendors of the West. By vineyards and by villages. By island groups that gem The river, by the wooded slopes — He stayeth not for them. ( 142 ) Nor pauseth lie at Grave creek, Nor measureth the mound, — There are dead beyond that ought to live, And lost that must be found ! Nor minds he Marietta's sheen. Nor Blannerhasset's isle ; Nor where, confessedly a queen. Doth Cincinnati smile. Kentucky sees the traveller. And in her settlements He speaketh, as he journeyeth, Of glorious intents. And Indiana hears him ; Anon, his cheerful voice Breaks on the flowery prairies Of distant Illinois. Upon him vast Missouri Bursts like a virgin world ; And gorgeous Louisiana, Where commerce is unfurled. And wherefore from Atlantic comes The traveller, and whence The errand that he must impart Before he goeth hence ? Why is the Southron's country trod By him who needeth rest ? Why seeks that zealous man of God The valley of the West? From Alleghany to the sea. From ocean to the lake — (143) From where its solemn eclioes ' Niagara doth wake — To pour the sunhght of the sky Upon the uncultured wild. To show the love that God on high Hath for the little child ! Where nods the giant sycamore, Where grows the wild papaw, To rear the floweret that from Heaven Its nutriment shall draw. To stud the boundless prairie With trees of Lebanon, To pierce the noble forest depths With glances of the Sun ; — To speak of Jordan's healing Where Oregon doth rise — Of Calvary, where the rocky hills Are towering to the skies. Where'er a blade of grass is seen, Where'er a river flows, To bless that waiting heritage With Sharon's living rose. THE DRUNKARD'S DEATH. I STOOD beside his dying bed, His clammy hand was clasped in mine, — And if there 's hope, look up, I said ; He dropt a tear, but made no sign. (144) I asked him of his misspent years, — He had but reached to manhood's prime, — And oh, what griefs, and guilt, and fears Trooped where he stood on shores of Time ! For he to drink had yielded up His intellect and noble strength ; And now the demon of the cup, Exulting, claimed his prey at length. I spoke, then, of the broken law. Of One who had the forfeit paid. And that his faith might strongly draw On Him, the Merciful, for aid. Renounce thy sins, and loathe thy life, So wearily to folly given ; And He will calm thy bosom's strife. And He will lift thy soul to heaven. He cried, " What shall a sinner do ! " He wept, — " What dreadful doom is mine ! ' His face was changed ; despair, I knew, Prevailed, for still he made no sign, I told him that a shoreless sea Is grace, for mortals stained with sin ; To doubt were crime — and safely he, Defiled, indeed, might venture in. I knelt in prayer — if ever I Have tasted prayer's prevailing power, *T was when my supplicating cry Appealed for pity in that hour. (U5) I prayed that lie might see how pure The law's demand, how vile his guilt ; Oh, mercy ! must this soul endure Its pangs, when blood for souls was spilt — This gem that might be ever bright Where coronals in beauty shine, Be locked in depths, whose only light Gleams palely from the wrath divine ! Rather may he, new-born, be clad In robes by Sovereign Love brought down ; And stand where angels worship, glad With golden harp and starry crown. I asked again, if he could now Yield all to Him who claims the whole ; And at that cross where men must bow Or perish, cast his trembling soul — And on this bed of sorrow say, " Here, Lord ! to be for ever thine, A iQst one gives himself away ! " — He died, he died, and made no sign ! IS IT WELL WITH THE CHILD? 'T IS well with her, who on that bed Of sickness, late, was laid so low ; 'T is well — though anguish bowed her head, And conflicts rent her bosom so. 13 (146) *T was well with her in health's glad hour, Well, when the wasting arrow came ; For she could trust His wing of power, And she had learned a Saviour's Name. 'T is well with her, though we have laid In kindred dust that beauteous form ; She lives, a bright, celestial maid, Far, far above life's raging storm. 'T is well with her — the lovely one. Though like a broken flower she lies ; Her mortal puts immortal on. Her graces flourish in the skies. 'T is well with her — oh God, 't is well With those whom thou dost kindly love, Whether in fleshly tents they dwell, Or tread thy starry courts above. DIEGE For the Thirty Thousand, yearly slain by Intemperance. I STOOD amid the place of graves, Where hillocks, thick as combing waves, Were clustered far around. Death held dominion ; here his reign Was absolute o'er victims slain, Imprisoned in the ground. ( 147 ) In sorrow's contemplative mood I scanned the mingled multitude, Whose sepulchres were new. One year ago they stood with men, And length of days they reckoned then, Who now were hid from view. And yet from these — what fearful fall Was theirs ! — none cared to lift the pall That deep Oblivion spread. For them no tears of fond regret, No midnight's pillow often wet, Nor sigh called from the dead. Here was the aged father laid, And by his dust the sleeping maid ; The husband, wife, were here. The manly youth, his parents' pride, The bridegroom, and the peerless bride. The foul worm's dainty cheer. Here lay the poor man, and his niche, Hard by, filled up the rotting rich, ' E-egardless of his state ; Of station high, of low degree. The abject slave, the haughty free. Corruption for their mate. The orator of splendid name. The chief who taught the foe his fame, The giant, godlike mind, — The noble, generous, and sincere. Those prompt with pity's holy tear, The polished and refined. (148) Whence came they f From once happy homes, From cottages, from lordly domes, From fireside bliss and care ; From courts of justice, chambers trod By senators ; yes, angry God ! From thine own house of prayer ! Who slew them ? Not night's pestilence. That comes and goes, men know not whence. Nor arrow at noonday ; They fell not in the glorious field, With Eight to nerve, and Heaven to shield. When Freedom called away. They died not as the righteous die, When angels, stooping from the sky, With songs unloose life's chain. By cursed Intemperance found they hell, And Ignominy pealed the knell Of Thirty Thousand slain. THE BRIDE OF THE CANTICLES. Who seeks her Lord in glorious guise. Unparalleled in grace — Love beaming from her wondrous eyes. And beauty from her face ? With whom all similes must die, All power of language faint. Whose charms, with pencil from the sky, 'T were sacrilege to paint ? (149) Why droops her head in anguish thus ? "Whence those delicious tears ? As if an angel showed to us How angel grief appears. "What accents murmur, like a dream Of music, from her lips ? As when in sorrow's saddest theme His soul the minstrel dips. *T is she — the Saviour's purchased Bride, On whom earth's light is dim — For whom heaven's brilliance has no pride, Reflected not by Him ! She bows her in her lonely grief;. Shall she make suit in vain ? Come, Thou ! of every joy the chief, And take thy Bride again. THE GOOD WINE. Oh ! thou only God of wine, Comfort this poor heart of mine, With that nectar of thy blood. Alexander Rosse^ 1650. Wine of Cyprus, not for me. Thou, nor juice of Italy ; Nor Atlantic's luscious pride. From Madeira's sunny side ; Nor from Caprea's royal hoard. Nor from Lisbon's modern board, Nor from elder Egypt's crypt. Which Mark Antony hath stripped — 13* (150) Nor from Ehine, or laugliing France, Where Garonne's blue ripples dance. Nor from banks of classic river, Winding Po or Guadalquiver. All the grapes in vintage crushed, Could not satisfy my thirst ; Purple flood in crysolite, Where it moves itself aright, Freely poured in princely hall. Sparkling at high festival. Well refined, or on the lees. Could not my ambition please ; Draught that passing pleasure brings. Leaving ever-during stings. When my lips the beaker kiss, I have other Wine than this. Taken from the fruitful hill, That doth live in poesy still ; Where for vine, a cross of wood. Guarded by the Roman, stood ; Whose rich spoil was gathered when Triumphed hell and triumphed men ; Crushed and mangled was whose grape. While the heavens looked agape. And in sackcloth hid — whose Wine, Streaming, dimmed the mid-day's shine, Fermented in nature's sigh, Ripened in the earthquake's cry. How it stirs my languid blood ! How it cheers my soul, like food ! (151) Drink, ye kings ! and cares forget, Drink, ye sad ! and triumpLi yet. Drink, ye aged ! strength renew, Drink, ye children ! 't is for you. Drink, ye pilgrims ! while 't is nigh ■ Drink, nor in the desert die. Drink, ye fainting ! thirst ye never. Drink, ye dead ! and live for ever ! WHILE THE SOLEMN NOTE OF TIME. While the solemn note of Time Warns me of his hasty tread, While the silent march of days Tells — " another week hath fled," While the hum of busy toil, Works of care and labor cease ; While the six days' weary strife Yields to holy, welcome peace, -^ Let me all the past review ; Much hath heaven bestowed on me. Much have I to folly given ; God ! what have I done for thee ? Nearer to my final hour. Am I sealed with Jesus' blood ? Nearer to eternity, Am I nearer to my God ? Hasten, pilgrim ! on thy way. Gird thee at the martyr's shrine ; Hasten, pilgrim ! why delay ? Immortality is thine. O)^ (152) THE STAR OP BETHLEHEM. Star of the East ! the Shepherd's Star ! Benignant was thy lustre, when It told of mercy from afar, And beamed Salvation down to men ; The mystery, surpassing ken Of angel-powers, revealedst thou ; Celestial were thy glories then That burst and streamed on Midnight's brow. As bright thou burn'st in yon blue field, How dim to thee the toys of kings ! Vain the delight their pageants yield, Compared with that which from thee springs ; O, Earth, and all her little things Of real bliss can give no ray ; , Her fairest flowers have secret stings, Her splendors shine and pass away. Star of the East ! no gems that burn Amid these lesser orbs we see. Or where upon their axles turn The worlds of vast infinity, Thou peerless One ! can- vie with thee ; They never heralded the plan. Conceived — performed by Deity — That speaks of pardon, peace to man : They hold along the empyrean coast Their viewless march, unheard, unknown ; ( 153 ) The least among the radiant host, That silent shine, and shine alone ; But thou, bright Star ! Eedemption's own ! Didst wander 'mid the light of song ; Thou earnest with music from the throne, Attended by a seraph throng. Star of the East ! the tempest-tost, On life's uncertain billows borne, Is by rude gales of trouble crossed, By hidden rocks of sorrow torn — When breaks the cheering Star of Morn, When night and thrall for ever flee, O, where the doubts and fears forlorn Of him, the wanderer of the sea ! Break out, blest Star ! with peaceful ray ; And if our steps to Truth incline. Oh, help and guard our weeping way ! Along these doubtful waters shine ! The heavenly beacon-light of thine That trembled once on Bethlehem's plain, Shall guide us to the Source Divine, Shall lead us to the Child again. THE INCONSISTENT. Oh, parent, who thy watch art keeping. So pleasing, painful, o'er thy boy, — Whose vigilance is all unsleeping, That he may prove, indeed, thy joy - (154) Consider ! while thy care thou deemest Enough, at times, thy hope to dim, A cloud, of which thou little dreamest, Comes up between his bliss and him. While he imbibes instruction needed, And Precept seems to guide the way, Some act of thine, some word, unheeded, In sad Example, leads astray ; In all the influence that in beauty Should cluster round the social hearth. In every pleasure, toil and duty Of home, the dearest spot on earth. With one hand to the living fountain Pointing, where he may enter in, And with the other, like a mountain, Piling along his path thy sin ! On Inconsistency that 's blazing Thus falsely, where should be true light, Thy helpless, ductile offspring gazing — How can he find the way that 's right ? Oh, cruel ! that the bosom swelling With ardor, hope, and promise, fair. Should, by thy folly, be the dwelling Of guilty pain and keen despair. Had he not here — a thoughtless stranger, Unskilled life's thousand snares to shun - Enough — without thine aid — of danger ? And is thy child by thee undone ? (155) How many thus, like stars, for ever Have set, in baleful night to dwell, In spite of Wisdom's strong endeavor, Lost by the parent — who may tell ? LYDIA, Acts xvi. 14. Seller of purple ! Listener to the word Brought to thy heart by Silas and by Paul, Baptized with all thy household ; thou wast stirred By the great debt incurred to grace, by all The blessed love that converts have for them Who teach stray feet the way to Bethlehem, — To show true hospitality of heart. To entertain each God-sent, gracious guest, Unwilling from such benison to part. Thy humble dome with such how greatly blest ! Thou wast indeed judged faithful in thy love, And holy footsteps honored thy abode ; Nobler, thus sheltering heralds from above. Than proudest hall by proudest monarch trod ! (156) MONT PILATRE. " The Proconstil of Judea here found, the termination of his impious life ; having, after spending years in the recesses of this mountain, which bears his name, at length, in remorse and despair, rather than in penitence, plung- ed into the dismal lake which occupies the summit." — Legend in Anne of Geierstein. " When Pilate saw that he could prevail nothing, but that rather a tumult was made, he took water, and washed his hands before the multitude, say ing, I am innocent of the blood of this just person ; see ye to it." — St. Matthew, xxvii. 24. Immortal iDfamy is his Who gave the Saviour up To bear the Jewish scourge and scorn, And drink the Koman cup. He washed his hands in sight of men, And slander thought to kill, — Yet he was damned, and to this hour His hands are spotted still. There 's something of audacious crime In guilty Judas found, Though viler than the vilest thing That crawls upon the ground ; But he who had not fortitude In trial's honest hour. To own the holy influence Of conscience' secret power ; And whose unfeeling, coward heart. Intent on selfish ease. Did seek, with sophistry and art. Both God and man to please, — ( 157 ) By God abhorred, by man despised, And shunned by fiends below — Where shall the wretch, to hide hiniself, And hide his meanness, go ! SUNDAY. " The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on Time's string, Make bracelets to adorii the wife Of the eternal, glorious King." — The Church. Sweet Sabbath ! gift of heaven, that selfish man Would never on himself have thus bestowed, — A green spot art thou in the dreary road Of life, sojourning, every seventh day found ; Where we, thought gathered, earth withdrawn, may scan The overwhelming glories scattered round The universe of God. Or, called by bells, Drink, in his temple, where it freely wells. Water of Life ; such as the woman drew Never by old Samaria, but which knew The heavenly Teacher. Me, stript of my pride, Show, on this day, as here I waiting lie, Panting with thirst, on this parched, waste way side — The path, dear Lord ! to Sabbath streams on high. 14 (158) FORETASTES. Some joy it has been mine to know, When, in the closet bending low, I 've converse held with heaven in prayer, And foretastes had of glory there. If here, such glimpse is given to me, "What must the full fruition be ! I 've tasted happmess, when bowed In worship, with the pious crowd. In temple walls, whose full-voiced choir Pealed David's notes to David's lyre. And felt — if music thus to love Woke here, what is its power above ! I 've touched those emblems with the saints. Whose use restores the soul that faints. And gathered, at the Saviour's board. Bliss, earth can neither give nor hoard, — And thought, if cheers thus mingled wine, What is that crushed, that Living Yine ! I 've seen the Christian die, yet ere The spirit sought its native sphere, I marked, with awe, his kindling eye. And eager flush, and heard the sigh Of holy rapture — not of pain, And said, " What conflict ! yet what gain ! " (159) For his pale cheek, I saw, was fanned With breezes from the better land ; Libations of the next world's bliss He drank, before he passed from this ; Of Love his life had known the power ; Its foretastes sunned the last dark hour. Oh, there is something round us thrown Of other worlds ! — In crowds, alone, By day, by night, we whispers hear, From errand angels, always near ; Reminding pilgrims of their Home, Telling us of the Rest to come. TO MY FRIEND EEV. G. B . Accepting the Swedenborgiau Faith. My heart took counsel with thy pious heart What time we dwelt by fair Ohio's tide ; — From Flattery's music thou didst turn aside, And in thy graceful modesty, apart. With books and God, didst prove the Christian art Of drinking Wisdom's waters, undefiled, — In spirit humble as a little child. And herein 's ointment for the grievous smart Of Zion, bruised by thee ! I dare not think That Heaven will leave thee in Cimmerian night To wander, as do those, once stars of light — To die, as meteors die. From the dread brink Whence thou art toppling, Voices beckon thee ; — Hear them, rash man ! — hack to the strongholds flee ! (160) THE HAEVEST IS GREAT — THE LABOREES FEW. Vineyard of the Lord ! thy treasures Plenteous are to wondering sight ; How the laden stalks are bending "With the grain, to harvest white ! "Wide the field — the world can only Bound its precincts. Vast the prize ; — To express its value, ages Heaped on ages can't suffice. TF7io will enter ? — Laborers, toiling In the wasting heat of day, Are hut few ; and of these, hourly. Perish some along the way. Who will enter ? — Greaf'the burden, Hard and constant is the toil ; But ye serve a gracious Master, And he '11 give you princely spoil. Wake, oh, north wind ! on this garden, Fainting, dying, strongly blow ; Come, thou south ! and, gently breathing, Bid its spices freely flow. Then, his power confessed, the Spirit Hearts shall touch, and sweetly win ; — Vineyard ! now, to reap thy harvest, Joyful thousands enter in. (161) JACOB'S WELL. He journeyed on to Galilee, Unheralded by fame, And wearily to Jacob's Well The heavenly Teacher came. Upon that fountain's granite lip He leaned, and gazed below, "Where the cool waters gushed and foamed, And leaped in frolic flow.