SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY, GATHERED FROM THE HIGHWAYS AND BY-WAYS. BY THE COMPILER OF'; LIFE AND IETTERS OF MISS MARY C. GREENLEAF.'"'Oh, lay it lowly at His blessed feet; Have thou the honor thus thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the angel choir, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire." [MILTON. NEWBUILYPORT: PUBLISHED FOR THE COMPILER BY MOULTON & CLARK' BOSTON: BROWN, TAGGARD & CHASE. 1858. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, By E. DANA, in the Clerk's office of the District Court of the District of MasQhusetts INV CATION. WNTO Thy shrine, my GoD, my King, This votive offering I bring; This song where many voices blend! To Thee, to Thee may it ascend! Its every fault do Thou atone, Dear SAVloUR, bear it to the throne — And may the unequal notes we raise Wake sweeter echoes to Thy praise And Thou, our COMFORTER and Guide! Oh, ever in our souls abide — Our songs with purer love inspire, Until we join the seraphWl ehois. CO NTE N TS. Fountain of Siloam, 17 Nearer to Thep, 79 Hymn to the Saviour, 18 Little Lucy and her Song, 8. Hymn of Praise to God, 20 Pllgrim Songs, 83 The Thorn, 21 Good Night, 85 Call to Prayer, 22 The Wish and Prayer, 85 The Water of Life, 25 Blessed be Toy Name, 86 Daily Life and Death, 26 The Blessing, 87 Evening Hymn 28 The Shepherd, 89 Child and Mourners, 30 God Knows it All, 92 Prayer in Prospect of I would not live alway - Death, 32 but here I would stay, 93 Richard Langhorn in Abide in Me and I in You,95 view of Death, 34 Little at First, but-Mighty The cup which my Fa- at Last, 96 ther hath given me, Only One Life, 98 shall I not drink it? 37' The Stray Lambl 99 The Good Shepherd, 38. I am Weary, 100 Seventh Day of Creation, 40 Watch, Mother, 102 The Church Porch, 42 The Motherless, 10& Abide with us, 44 Faith, 104 Blessedness of the Depart- The Sower to his Seed, 105 ed Saint, 46 Delight in God only, 106 Bring back my Flowers, 48 The Border Lands, 109 The Absent Sun, 49 Angel of Patience, 111 Thanks for Daily Bread, 51 Divine Love,- 112 Twenty-third Psalm, 53 Secret Grief, 113 Joyful Thoughts of I)eath 55 The Prism, 115 Ths Solitary Worshipper, 58 The Ship at Sea, 116 Flowers, 60 I never looked behind, 118 The Little Coffin, 62 Death of a Child, 121 The Law of the Lips, 64 Death of George K. PomMidnight Music, 65 roy, 122 Willie and the Birds, 67 Consolation, 124 The Burial of Moses, 68' Sorrow Needful, 125 Scripture and Reason, 71 God is Love, 126 Chastisement, 72 Sudden D)eath, 126 Legend of St. Augustine, 73 Rest in Heaven, 129 Cry of Want, 75 Communion with God, 129 The Rain Drop, 76 Unanswered Prayer, 132 No Evil but Sin, 78 Christ, the Fountain, 133 Dying Christian, 79 The Crucifixion, 134 6O NTENTS. Jacob Wrestling with the The Crucifixion, 187 Angel, 136 Forget not the Saviour, 188 Heavenly Love, 139 Consecration, 189 Care of Angels over The True Rest, 190 Men, 141 A Child's Grave, 191 God's Parental Love, 142 A Child's Dying Re. Cowper's Grave, 142 quest, 192 The Path of Sorrow,,145 Epitaph on Mrs. Iall, 192 The Three Homes, 147 The Blind Boy, 193 The Mother and Dead Forgiveness, 195 Child, 149 Early Rising,, 196 Self-Expostulation, 1. 1 Sonnet, by Michael AnPerseverance, 153 gelo, 196 The Evening Star, 154 The Vanity of Earthly The Sea Shore, 155 Pomp, 197 The Truth of Scripture, 156 The Prospect of Heaven Work and Contempla- Cheering, 19B tion, 156 Sonnet, on Night, 199 Internal Evidence, 157 The Solitary Sunbeam, 200 External Evidence, 157 Sickness like Night, 201 The Dead, 1 58 The Mariner's Compass,202.Divine Foot-prints, 159 The Sufferer Cheered, 203 Songs in the Night, 161 Lesson of the Sea, 204 Hymn to God the Father, 1.62 Hymn of the City,.206 Nearing Heaven, 163 Christian in the City, 207 Man Short-Sighted, 163 God in His Temple, 208 The Changed Cross, 164 The Three Calls, 210 The Heart's Cure, 168 Benefits of Prayer, 211 On a Skeleton, 169 An Old New Year's Epitaph on four Infants, 170 Poem, 212 Hugh Peters to daughter, 171 The Motherless,:2.13 Christ, the Shepherd, 172 To Spring, 215 Morning Hymn, 174 Dirge, 21:6 Hymn for Morning, 175 The Idol, 217 Hymn for Noon, 177 Home,.218 HIymn for Evening, 179:Heaven, 219 The Passion Flower, 181 Reconciliation, 220 The Ascension, 183 To Mourners, 221 Waters to Swim in 184 Seasons 6f Prayer, 221 Submission, 185 On Genesis ii: 21, 22, 222 The Joys of Earth, 186 Trust in God, 223 Midnight Prayer of And there shall be no Christ, 186 Night there, 223 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. A little child beneath a tree,. 30 Abide with me: fast falls the eventide, 44 A child sat by a limpid stream,.... 48 Alone and silent there he sat,.. 58 A little black-eyed boy of five,. 67 Along the shore of summer sea,.... 73 A holy calm was on his brow, ~ *. 79 Along the mountain-track of life,... 79 A little child six summers old,. 81 A traveller through a dusty road,.... 96 A giddy lamb one afternoon, 99 A leisure moment idly to beguile,... 115 A strange power hath the human heart,. 113 A white sail gleaming on the flood,.. 116 Ah, not for thee was woven,. 121 All night the lonely suppliant prayed,.. 132 And is there care in Heaven.. 141 A swallow in the Spring,... 153 A man of subtle reasoning, asked,.. 157 Ah! grieve not him whose silver hairs,. 211 Are my flowers awake.. 196 A dew-drop falling on the wild sea wave,. 223 Beneath Moriah's rocky side,.... 17 Blessed be Thy name forever,.. 86 8 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. By Nebo's lonely mountain,. 68 Bound upon the accursed tree,. 134 Behold this ruin! -'twas a skull,. 169 Bold Infidelity! turn pale and die,. 170 lBe still! be still, for all around,... 208 Come, oh thou traveller unknown, 136 Close thine eyes, and sleep secure,... 85 Come to the morning prayer,. 221 Doth sadness in thy soul abide,. 78 E'en now, while voiceless midnight,. 142 Earth guard what here we lay in holy trust,. 216 Father, by thy love and power,. 28 Father, into thy loving hands,... 109 Full nigh the voyage now is overpast,... 196 Few rightly estimate the worth, 186 Forgive thy foes; nor what alone,. 195 Gone was the glory of Judea's crown, 181 Go down,unto the sea,.... 204 Heart, heart, lie still,.. 168 Hail the day that saw him rise,. 183 How rare that task a prosperous issue finds, 220 It is told me I must die,.... 34 I was a wandering sheep,.. 38 I shine in the light of God,... 46 I sojourn in a vale of tears,... 55 It fell upon my' burning cheek,.. 76 I was within a house of prayer,... 87 In the dim recess of thy spirit's chamber,. 92 I would not live alway - but here I would stay,. 93 I love, and have some cause to love, the earth,. 106 If life were fair around thee,.... 125 I cannot always trace the way,.... 126 If ever life should seem,.... 129 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 9 It is a placo where poets crowned,.. ~ 142 In every object here I see,.... 155 It is a pleasant thought,... 163 It was a time of sadness,. 164 I wish you neither poverty,. 171 It is a place where tender thought,... 191 It was a blessed summer day,...193 Jesus, Saviour, Lord of Life,.... 189 Lord, thou hast given me a cell,.. 51 Lo, my shepherd's hand divine, 53 Lonely, oh lonely through the sands I wander,. 133 Love's a flower that will not die,. 207 Look round the world - behold the chain of love, 220 Lord, what a change within us, one short hour,. 211 My God. I know too well that I must die,. 32 Musing of all my Father's love,. 37 My feet are worn and weary with the march,. 100 Mother, watch the littlefeet,.... 102 ".Mama," a little maiden said,... 192 Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew,. 199 Not on a prayerless bed,.. 22 Not in the solitude,.... 206 Not from his head was woman took,. 222 No night in that bright land,.. 223 Our Saviour wore a crown of thorns,. 21 0 that mine eye might closed be,.. 85 O never, never canst thou know,.. 112 On Filey bridge I sat alone,. 118 One part, one little part we dimly scan, 163 0 that my eyes would melt into a flood, 187 0 thou, my soul, forget no more,... 188 Oh, slumberer, rouse thee,... 210 0 ye, who with the silent tear,.... 221 10 INDEX OF FIRST LINES. Peace for the troubled soul, 25 Prophets of old, events foretold,. 157 Region of life and light!..... 172 Sabbath of the saints of old... 40 Speak kindly to thy fellow man,. 64 Such is man's life, and such is wise, 75 Sink, little seed, in the earth's black mould, 105 Say, slali I take the thorn away,.. 203 Softly sleep in death's cold slumber,.. 122 She wrapped him in a little shroud,.. 149 Stupid soul, to folly cleaving,. 151 Sleeper, awake and sing,. ~... 174 See the star that leads the day,.... 175 See the magnetic needle lightly rest,. 202 Say, is it Spring in Heaven... 217 Thou who didst stoop below,. 18 Thou who createdst all, Thou fountain, 20 The welcomv flowers are blossoming, 60'Twas a tiny, rosewood thing,.... 62 The holy book, like the eighth sphere does shine, 71 The songs that cheer the pilgrim's way, 83 There was an eastern shepherd,. 89'Tis not for man to trifle! life is brief,. 98 Thou art not mine - upon thy sweet lip lingers, 103 To weary hearts, to mourning homes,.. 111 Thou hidden love of God, whose height,. 129 The path of sorrow, and that path alone,. 145 The evening cloud in summer sky, 154 The woman singeth at her spinning-wheel,. 156 The dead alone are great,... 158 The sun is swiftly mounted high, 177 The beam-dispelling mists arise,.. 179 The ray of spiritual light upon,... 184 INDEX OF FIST LINEBI. 11 The funeral pomp, superb and slow,. 19 Thou art like night, oh sickness, 201 The sunbeams, infinitely small,. 200 Thou, whose every hour,.... 218 Though XI be poor, yet I will make hard shift,.. 212 When on my pillowed couch,. I lay,... 26'When once thry foot enters the church, be dumb, 42 Where are thy beams, ohSun... 49 What maketh music when the bird,... 65 What, many times, J[ musing asked,... 72 When through life's avenue so dark and cold,. 124 Which is the happiest death to die,.. 126.With all thy heart, with all thy soul, and mind, 139 "Where is thy home?" 1 asked a child,... 147 When thy faith is sorely tried. 159,When courting slupaber,.. 161 Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,.. 162 Whence but from Seaven could men unskilled in arts, 156 Who art thou, on the midnight air,.... 186'What dost thou, -0 wandering dove,.. *. 190 rWitty above her sexe, but that's not all,.. 192 VWhen sailing on this troubled sea,.... 198 When through the silent, moonlight hours,. 219 Whatever passes as a cloud, between... 217 Whence, oh sweet-Spring, whence does thy balmy air, 215 Ye who think the truth ye sow,.. 104 oau're.weary,,precious.oneq,....218 INTR ODUCTIO N. STEARNE has somewhere remarked, with a degree of justice, thatthe process of book-making in modern times, was little more than pouring from one bottle into another. In truth, so little thinking have the ancients left us to do, that a student of the last century, at Dartmouth, used de-pairingly to exclaim, " If I could only originate one single idea, I should die happy 1" If there is really such a paucity of new ideas, in this age of new inventions, as these gentlemen seem to imply, then the mere compiler need not feel that his office, humble though it may be deemed, falls so far below that of the author. He only does that avowedly, which the latter does perhaps unconsciously. The compiler of a volume of sacred poetry has in these days a delightful task. To collect and preserve in one little casket those scattered gems which lie hid in the sands of our literature, some of which a few more tides might wash away but for his or'her quick eye, and gathering hand, and to give them to the light,'is surely no ungrate1 office. But the gems of sacred poetry are compara 14 rNTRODUCTIb. lively rare. Love, and beauty, and the fading things of earth are worshipped in the sweetest strains - but the highest love and the most glorious beauty are, by most of' those called the standard poets, neglected. Yet is this neglect a violence to man's best nature. Truth and beauty ae always in harmony. Dlvine truth and poetic beauty are in the fullest harmony.. Pbetic beauty pervades thee inspired Word. From the sublime glory of the opening page of Sacred History, when God said, "L;et there bev light, and light was,"'to the closing picture of the New Jerusalem shining upon us in unearthly radiance, the whole Scripture, while it is eternal truth of such solemn interest to us, is also a dramatic poem of transcendant grandeur and beauty. P'oetic beauty pervades the visible universe. It literally "glows in the stars and blossoms in the trees." And, the soul of man responds to it. It calls him to adoring songs in honor of its Divine Author: and even the natural heart feels after Him, and reaches upward, and would fain dissever Divine Truth from Divine Beauty, and adore the one while it bows not to the, other. Moore and Willis are sad, sad examples of this. But the Christian responds with his whole soul to the call.. To him, "DIay unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth- knowledge." " No speech, no language, voiee is not heard;" yet does he apprehend those words which are gone out to the end of the 8'world, and they are to him both music and poetry; - and all the poetic numbers of the songs of Zion are but the faint eshoes of that high INTRODUCTION. 15 melody which breathes through all the works of the per. fect ONE, This little collection consists chiefly of the cuttings and transcribings of former years. R'esolving that my treasures should no longer remain a monopoly, I have madefurther selections, and have the pleasure of inserting a number of beautiful pieces never before published. Would that I were permitted to give the names of the lovely ladies to whom four of them are due. Several others will, it is believed, be new to the American reader. The'y were found among a large number of English sheet tracts in verse, which have been recently selected by a lady residing in London,, and sent to her relatives in this city, Slight attempt has been made at systematic arrangement.. It is deemed, that the course of poetic sentiment and feeling should not, like that of the canal, be confined and guided to suit a specific, practical purpose. Rather, like the river, let it wind along, at its own sweet will, through green meadows and fertile valleys - through the dark and tangled wilderness, and dashing over rocks and precipices, let it ripple and murmur about the very towers and battle. ments of the King of Terrors; —so it may but reflect the warm beams of the S.uN of Righteousness -so the Star of Peace and Hope - the Star of Bethlehem, shines up through its clear depths, it is enough. If in rare instances, it reflect only the light, but not the direct rays of that SUN, let it be forgiven. 16 INTRODUCTION. As I write, sits beside me, one whose "crown of glory 9 is not yet exchanged for the one he will cast at the feet of his Saviour. I am not indifferent to the good opinion of the public; but if this little work meet his approval, my more earnest wish will be fulfilled. That it may do good -*-that it may cheer the heart and bless the soul, thus glorifying our Father in Heaven, should be the chief and ultimate aim of this and every similar attempt. But, alas, how few of us have the single eye I Yet who can tell that some word here found may not arrest the eye, and touch the heart of one now far from truth and happiness - that the song may not win the soul guarded against the sermon!'Who can tell that by something herein contained) the wanderer in as well as from the path of Life, may not be recalled! Reader, let us unite in the earnest aspiration that this may be one among the countless instrumentalities in the hand of our loving and wise Master by which he draws us to himself. E. DANA. IhEWBURYPORT, Nov. 1858. FOUNTAIN.-OF SILOAM. REV. R. M. MCCHEYNE. B]3ENEATE Moriah's rocky side A gentle fountain springs:; Silent and soft its waters glide, Like the peace the Spirit brings. The thirsty Arab stoops to drink Of the cool and quiet wave, And the thirsty spirit stops to think Of Him who came to save. Siloam is the fountain's name, It means " one sent from God.;" And thus the holy Saviour's fame It gently spreads abroad..2 8 ASPORED AND HOUSEHOLD POETR.0 grant that I, like this sweet well,, May Jesus' image bear, And spend my life, my all, to tell. How full his mercies are! Foot of Carmel,,,June, 1839. HYMN TO THE SAVIOUR. Thou~ who didst stoop below To drain the cup of woe, Wearing the form of frail mortality; Thy blessed labors done, Thy crown of victory won, Hast passed from earth —passed to thy throne omr high. Man may no longer trace In thy celestial face The image of the bright, the viewless one;. Nor may thy servants hear, Save with faith's raptured ear, Thy voice of tenderness, - God's holy Son L! Our eyes behold thee not,. Yet hast thou.not forgat. SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 19 Those who have placed their hope, their trust in thee; Before thy Father's face Thou hast prepared a place, That where thou art, there may they also be. It was no path of flowers, Through this dark world of ours, Beloved of the Father, thou didst tread; And shall we in dismay Shrink from the narrow way, When clouds and darkness are around it spread? O Thou who art our life, Be with us through the strife; Was not thy head by earth's fierce tempests bowed? Raise then our eyes above, To see a Father's love Beam, like a bow of promise, through the cloud. E'en through the awful gloom, Which hovers o'er the tomb, That light of love our guiding star shall be; Our spirits shall not dread The shadowy way to tread, Friend! Guardian! Saviour! which doth lead to Thee! :20 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRI. PRAISE TO G-OD.-'Thou who createdst all! Thou fountain Of our sun's light - who dwellest far From man beyond the farthest star, Yet ever present; who dost heed.Our spirits in their utmost need; We bless thee, Father, that we are.!.We bless thee for-our inward life; For its immortal date decreeing; For that which comprehendeth thee, A spark of thy divinity, Which is the being of our being! We bless thee for this bounteous earth,; For its increase; for corn and wine, For forest oaks, for mountain rills, For cattle on a thousand hills, We bless thee, for all good is thine.! The earth is thine, and it thou keepest, That man may labor not in vain.; T'Thou giv'st the grass, the grain, the tree,.Seed time and harvest come from thee, The early and the latter rain!'The earth is thine - the summer earth, Fresh with the dews, with sunshine bright;; SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRi. 21 With golden clouds in evening hours, With singing birds, and balmy flowers, Creatures of beauty and, delight. The earth is thine - thy creaturer man! Thine are all worlds, all suns that shine;: Darkness and light, and life and death,, Whate'er all space inhabiteth - Creator! Father!: all is thine! THE THORN. Our Savioutr wore a crown of thorn With not one rose entwined; And more did this sad crown adorn Than that he, left behind; And gladly did he press it there Upon his God-like brow, Knowing that in our path more fair Would bloom. the. roses now. O, when we grasp the fragrant flowers That throw such beauty round, And murmur'midst our blushing bowers,. That still a thorn is: found, — 22 SACItD A.ND OUSEHOLD Pr0TRI. O let us think of Him who wore The thorn without the rose, And bear, as patiently He bore, Ourfewer, lighter woes. NOT ON A PRAYERLESS BED. Not on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed, Compose thy weary limbs to rest; For they alone are blest With balmy sleep Whom angels keep. Not, though by care oppressed, Or thought of anxious sorrow, Or thought, in many a coil perplexed FEor coming morrow - Lay not thy head On prayerless bed I For who can say, when sleep thine eyes shall close, That earthly cares and woes To thee may e'er return? Rouse up, my soul, Slumber control, -And let thy lamp burn brightly; -SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 2 So shall thine eyes discern'Things pure and -rightly; Taught by the spirit's beam, Never on prayerless bed To lay thine unblest head. 13ethink thee, slumbering soul, of all that's promised To faith and holy prayer! Lives there within thy breast A worm that gieves unrest? Ask peace from Heavewn; - Peace will be given: Humble self-love and pride Before the Crucified, Who for thy sins has died; Nor lay thy weary head Upon a prayerless bed! MIast thou no pining want, nor wish, nor care, That calls for holy prayer? Has thy day been so bright, That, in its flight, There is no trace of sorrow:? And, art thou sure to-morrow Will be like to-day, and more Abundant? Dost'thou lay up store, And still make place for more.? 21 SAJKCRfD AND HOUIEHOLD POETIRY Thou fool! this very night Thy soul may wing its flight. Hast thou no being than thyself more- dear,. Who tracks the ocean deep, And-when storms sweep The wintry skies,For whom thou wak'st and weepest?; Oh! when thy pangs are deepest, Seek then the covenant ark of Prayer,s For He that slumbereth not is there! His ears are open to thy cries! Oh! then on prayerless bed Lay not thy thoughtless head! Rlast thou no loved one- than thyself more dears;, Who claims a prayer from thee? Some who ne'er bend the kneeFrom infidelity? Think, if by prayer- they're brought —' Thy prayer, to be forgiven, And making peace with Heaven,Unto the cross they're led! Oh, for their sakes, on prayerless becd Lay not thy unblest head! Arouse thee, weary soul, nor yield to slumber;. Till- in communion, blest3. SAiOREiD' AND HOUSE]HOtD POETRY'. 2.'With the elect thou restThose:souls of countless number; And with them, raise The note of praise,. Reaching from earth to heaven, Chosen, redeemed, forgiven: So lay thy happy head, Prayer-crowned, on blessed bed t THE WATER OF LIFE. Peace for the troubled soul! Balm for the wounded heart!, Here the pure waters roll Which healing power impart; Here blooms the fruit of Life's immortal tree: Come, child of sorrow!. for it blooms for thee! Earth's troubled streams forsake,Her sin-polluted rills; Thy thirst they cannot slake: From yonder heavenly hills Flows the bright river of eternal joy, The only bliss unmingled with alloy. 26 ACRE- D ARTD't[TSEHOLD POET1At. Then come without a fear, The stream of Life is free; Let hope thy spirit cheer, Its waters flow for thee! Here wash away thy sorrow and trly sin; -So shall thy peace, thy blessedness begin. I DIE DAILY. When on my pillow'd couch I lay Each night this weary head of mine,.And think upon the by-gone day, - Its tangled thread of thought untwine, I seem another life to leave, And born at morn, to die at eve. Each day, 0 Father, is a life, — Each, the great whole's epitome,'With passion stirr'd, with action rife, Prank'd with capricious pain and glee. Hours fly for years, nor growing age Lacks here its monitory stage..Morn, from thy hand's renewing power, Brings,me, as from the womb again, BACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 2[ Presh as the babe in natal hour, Unsoiled as yet with worldly stain. My heart is calm, my breast is clear, And lively to thy voice, my ear. Then Noon, like manhood, bears along, Ah! far from innocence and home, To push, amid the worldly throng,,Mid scenes of bustling guilt to roam; And toil, and care, and guile and sin, O'erpower thy voice, with deafening din. Then Eve, meet type of mellowing age,'Mid dying sounds, and growing calm, Calls me to home, and musing sage: Cool as her dews, thy SPIRIT'S balm Pours on my fevered heart, and full Thy voice, on ears no longer dull. Then Night, like death, as in the grave, Lays down my aching head once more, Blessing the bounteous hand which gave, Praying the taker to restore; I close upon the world my sight, And sink amid surrounding night. 4Great Giver of this mortal breath, Which thou hast roused again to sing, 28 SACRED AND HOUSEIOLD POEIRYo0, through a daily life and death, Conduct me still, Almighty King! Death to some sin, my shame of yore,Life to some grace, unfelt' before. EVENING HYMN. Father! by thy love and power Comes again the evening hour: Light has vanished, labors cease,: Weary creatures rest in peace. Thou, whose genial dews distil On the lowliest weed that grows., Father!. guard our couch- from ill, Lull thy children to repose. We to thee ourselves resign, Let our latest thoughts be thine; Saviounr! to thy Father bear This our feeble evening prayer;: Thou hast seen how oft to-day We, like sheep, have gone astray Worldly thoughts, and thoughts of prilde, Wishes to thy cross untrue, Secret faults,. and undescried,, OACRD AND HOUSEHOLD.POETR. 2 Meet thy spirit-piercing view, "Blessed Saviour! yet through thee SPray that these may pardoned beo.Holy Spirit.! breath:of balm! Fall on us in evening's calm:: Yet awhile before we sleep,'We, with thee, will vigils keep:;'Lead us on.our sins to muse, Give us truest penitence,'Then the love of -God infuse, Breathing humble confidence:; Melt our spirits, mould our will, Soften, strengthen, comfort still! Blessed Trinity! be near Through the hours of darkness drear-:y XVhen the help of man is far, Ye more clearly present are: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Watch o'er-our defenceless head;; Let your Angels' guardian host Keep all evil from our bed, iTill the flood of morning rays iWake us ho a song of praise. 30 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETREY THE CHILD AND THE MOURNERS. CHARLES MACKAY, LL. D. A little child beneath a tree Sat and chanted cheerily A little song, a pleasant song, Which was - she sang it all day long - "C When the wind blows the blossoms fall, But a good God reigns over all." There passed a lady by the way, Moaning in the face of day; There were tears upon her cheek, Grief in her heart too great to speak; Her husband died but yester-morn, And left her in the world forlorn. She stopped and listened to the child That looked to heaven, and singing, smiled; And saw not, for her own despair, Another lady, young and fair, Who also passing, stopped to hear The infant's anthem ringing clear. For she but few sad days before Had lost the little babe she bore; And grief was busy at her soul ~As that sweet memory o'er her stole 8AIRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And showed: how bright had been the Past, The Present drear and overcast. And, as they stood beneath the tree Listening, soothed and placidly, A youth came by, whose sunken eyes Spake of a load of miseries; And he, arrested like the twain Stopped to listen to the strain. Death had bowed the youthful head Of his bride beloved, his bride unwed - Her marriage robes were fitted on, Her fair young face with blushes shone,, When the destroyer smote her low, And changed the lover's bliss to woe. And these three listened to the song, Silver toned,. and sweet, and strong, Which that child, the livelong day, Chanted to itself in play - "' When the wind blows the blossoms fall, But a good God reigns over all." The widow's lip impulsive moved; The mother's grief, though unreproved. Softened, as her trembling tongue Repeated what the infant sung, -32 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETSRY. And the sad lover, with a start, Conned it over to his heart. And though the child - if child it were, And not a seraph sitting there-Was seen no more - the sorrowing three Went on their way resignedly,'The song still ringing in their ear; — Was it music of the spheres? Who shall tell? They did not know;,But in the midst of deepest woe'The-strain recurred when sorrow grew, To warn them and console them too:.. When the wind blows the blossoms fall,,But a good God reigns over all." ON DEATH.,TRANSLATED FROM AN ANCIENT GERMAN HYMN..My God! I know too well that I must die; -- I am but man who soon departeth.;;I here inherit no propriety That long and fast abideth. SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 33 Now therefore show me graciously, How I may meet death happily. My God! I know not when I must Away; no moment glides sexcurely. How soon a potsherd breaketh into dust The flower it fades how easily! Therefore but ever make me ready Now in time for my eternity. My God! I know not how I am to die, For death its ways hath variously. To one there is a bitter sev'rance of life's tie: Another passeth off most peacefully. Still as thou wilt; grant me only this, - My end may not be reasonless. My God! I know not where I am to die, Nor where's the sand'neath which my grave shall lie; Still let but this my blessed heirship be, That thy good Word to life may waken me; Then take I gladly any clime whatever, For all the earth is thine in every part whatever.. Now, dearest God! if I indeed must die, Then, take thou to thee, take my spirit, Christ's blood its only bath and merit. 2 84 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And have I Jesus only to me nigh, Then'tis all one to my poor heart, When, how and where, must I depart. TRIUMPH IN DEATH. [Written in the immediate prospect of death, by Richard Langhorn, an English lawyer, who, by means of false witnesses, was unjustly convicted of high treason, and executed during the reign of Charles II.] It is told me I must die. 0 happy news! Be glad, oh my soul, And rejoice in Jesus thy Saviour. If he intended thy perdition, Would he have laid down his life for thee? Would he have expected thee with so much paw tience? And given thee so long a time for penance? Would he have called thee with so much love? And illuminated thee with the light of his Spirit? Would he have drawn thee with so great force? And favored thee with so many graces? Would he have given thee so many good desires? Would he have set the seal of the predestinate upon thee? 'SAIRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And dressed thee in his own livery? Would he have given thee his own cross? And given thee shoulders to bear it with patience:? It is told me I must die. O happy news!,Come on, my dearest soul. Behold! thy Jesus calls thee. iHe prayed for thee upon his cross; There he owed down his head to kiss-thee.;'There he cried out with a powerful voice, " Father, receive him, he is mine." There he opened his heart to give thee entrance; There he gave up his life to purchase life for thee. It is told me I must die. 0, happy news! I shall be freed from misery,; I shall no more suffer pain; I tall no more be subject to sin:; )Vshall no more be in danger of being damned. But from henceforth I shall see, and I shall live.; I shall praise, and I shall bless; And this I shall always do, Without ever being weary of doing what I always aim to do. It is told me I must die. C, what happiness;! 36 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. I am going to the place of my rest; To the land of the living, to the haven of security;. To the kingdom of peace;: To the palace of my God;, To the nuptial of the Lamb; To sit at the table of my King, to feed on bread' of angels; To see what no eye hath seen; To hear what no ear hath heard; To enjoy what the heart of man cannot comprehend'! O, my Father, thou art the best of all fathers. Have pity on the most wretched of all thy children. I was lost, but by thy mercy am- now found; I was dead,, but by thy grace am now raised again; I was gone, astray after vanity, But I am now ready to appear before thee. 0, my father, come now in mercy, and receive thy child; Give him the kiss of peace; Remit unto, him all his sins; Clothe him with thy nuptial robe; Receive him into thy house; Permit him to have a place at thy feast, And forgive all those who are guilty of his death.. 'STCRED AND SHOUSEHOLD POETRY. 3q CHILDLIKE SUBMISSION. "T'the cup which my Father hath given me, shall I not,drink it i"-John xviii: 11. Musing of all my Father's love, (How sweet it is!),Methought I heard a gentle voice - "' Child, here's a cup: I've mixed it - drink it up." -My heart did sink- -I could no more rQjoice. 0 Father, dost thou love thy child? Then why this cup? "One day, my child, I said to thee - "Here is a flower Plucked from a beauteous bower-: Did you complain? or take it thankfully? "One day I gave thee.pleasant fruit From a choice tree-: Iow pleased, how grateful you dtid seem: You said, — I love Thee: faithful may I prove!' Your heart was fall; with joy your eyes did beam. "That flower was mine --- that fruit was mine:: This cup is mine,.And all that's in it comes from me." Father, I'm still_;. SAC(RED AND fOIUS5EibLD POElt'}, Forgive my naughty will. But what's the cup? --- may I look in and see?? " Yozs see, my child! You must not see - Christ only saw H]is destined cup of bitter gall:: No, child, believe - Meekly the cup receive, And know that' love and wisdom mixed it all."' O, Father, must it be? c" Yes,,child, it must." Then give the needed medicine;; Be by my side - Only thy face don't hide: 1'11 drink it all- it must be good -'t is' Thine. THE GOOD SHEPHERD. I was a wandering sheep, I- did not love the fold: X did' not love my Shepherd's voicer I would, not be controled; t was a wayward child, I did not love my home, SAORED AND HOUSEHOIeD POETRY. 39 I did not love my Father's voice, I loved afar to roam. The Shepherd sought his sheep, The Father sought his child; They followed me o'er vale and hill, O'er deserts waste and wild: They found me nigh to death, Famished, and faint, and lone; They bound me with the bands of love4 They saved the wandering one! They spoke in tender love, They raised my drooping head; They gently closed my bleeding wounds) My fainting soul they fed; They washed my filth away~ They made me clean and fair They brought me to my home in peace, The long-sought wanderer I Jesus my Shepherd is,'Twas he that loved my soul,'Twas He that wash'd me in his blood,'Twas He that made me whole; ITwas He that sought the lost, That found the wandering sheep,'Twas He that brought me to the fold, —'Tis he that still doth keep. 40 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETLY6 I was a wandering sheep, I would not be controled; But now I love my Shepherd's voice, I love, I love the fold! I was a wayward child, I once preferred to roam, But now I love my Father's voice, I love, I love his home! SEVENTH DAY OF CREATION. Sabbath of the saints of old, Day of mysteries manifold, By the great Creator blest, Type of his eternal rest: I with thoughts of Thee would seek To sanctify the closing week. Resting from his work, the Lord Spake to-day the hallowing word; And, his wondrous labors done, Now the everlasting Son Gave to heaven and earth the sign Of a wonder more divine: 'SACRED AND 0OUSEHOLD POETRY. 41 Resting from His work, to-day In the tomb the Saviour lay, His sacred form from head to feet Swathed in the winding-sheet, Lying in the rock alone, Hid beneath the sealed stone. All the seventh day long, I ween Mournful watch'd the Magdalene, Rising early, resting late, By the sepulchre to wait, In the holy garden glade Where her buried Lord was laid. So, as closed the Sabbath night, In Goshen watched the Israelite, Staff in hand, in pilgrim's guise, By the slaughtered sacrifice, Waiting till the midnight cry Signal gave that God was nigh: So with Thee till life shall end, I would solemn vigil spend; Let me hew thee, Lord, a shrine, In this rocky heart of mine, Where in pure embalmed cell, None but thee may'st ever dwell. 42 SACiED AXD HOUSEHOLD. rOETRt. THE CHURCH PORCH. HERBERT. When once thy foot enters the church, be bare God is more there than thou; for thou art there Only by his permission. Then beware, And make thyself all reverence and fear. Kneeling ne'er spoiled silk stockings. Quit thy state,All equal are within the church's gate. Resort to sermons, - but to prayers most: Prayer is the end of preaching. Oh, be drest! Stay not for th' other pin. Why, thou hast lost A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell doth jest Away thy blessings, and extremely flout thee; Thy clothes being fast, but thy soul loose, about thee. In time of service -seal up both thine eyes, And send them to thy heart; that, spying sins They may weep out the stains by them did riseThose doors being shut, all by the ear comes in.'Who marks, in church time, others' symmetry, Makes all their beauty his deformity. Let vain or busy thoughts have there no part: Bring not thy plough, thy plots, thy pleasures thither i sAoCRkI AND HOUSEHO'LD POETRY'. 4 -: Chhrist purged his temple; so must thou thy heart. All worldly thoughts are but thieves met tow gether To cozen thee. Look tv thy actions well; For churches either are our heaven, or hell. Judge- not the preacher, for he is thy judge. If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st him not. God calleth preaching folly. IDo not grudge To pick out treasures from an earthly pot. The worst speak something good. If all want sense,, God takes a text, and preacheth patience. He that gets patience, and the blessing which Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains; He that, by being at church, escapes the ditch Which he might fall in by companions, gains. lie that loves God's abode, and to combine With saints on earth, shall one day with them shine. Jest not at preacher's language or expression: How know'st thou but thy sins made him mis; carry? Then turn thy faults and his into confession. God sent him, whatsoe'r he be. 0 tarry, And love him for his Master! His condition, though it be ill, makes him no ill physicijans 44 SACIMED AND,HOUSEHOLD POETRtY. None shall in hell such bitter pangs endure, As those who mock at God's way of salvation. Whom oil and balsams kill, what salve can cure? They drink with greediness a full damnation.'The Jews,refus'd thunder, and we folly:'Though God do hedge us in, yet who is holy.?'Sum up at night what thou:hast done by day; And in the morning, what thou hast to do. Dress and undress thy soul. Mark the decay And growth of it. If, with thy watch, that too Be down, then wind up both. Since we shall be -Most surely judged, make thy accounts agree. " ABIDE WITH US.' " Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and -the day is fat spent."-Luke xiv: 29. Abide with me: fast falls the eventide; The darkness thickens. Lord, with me abide: When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,'Help of the helpless, O abide with me! Swift -to its close ebbs out life's little day; ]Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away: SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. AS Change and decay in all around I see;o thou who changest not, abide with me. Not a brief glance I crave, a passing word; But as thou dwell'st with thy disciples, Lord Familiar, condescending,. patient, free: Come not to sojourn, but abide with me. Come not in terrors, as the King. of' kings,. But kind and good, with healing in thy wings - Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea; Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide with me. Thou on my head in, early youth didst smile, And though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,. Thou hast not left me, oft as I left thee: On to the close, OG Lord, abide with me. I need thy presence every passing hour; What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power? Who like thyself my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, 0 abide with me. I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless; IlIs have no weight, and tears no bitterness. Where is- Death's sting? Where, Grave, thy vice tory? I triumph still, if thou abide with me.. 46'SACRED AND HOISEHOLD POETRY. Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes, Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee: In life, in death, O Lord, remember me. "COME UP HITHER." —REv. iv: 1. [The last clod had been laid upon her grave, and I had ~returned to the silence and solitude of my desolate home. Alone with bitter thoughts, hour after hour went by, and the first shadows of the coming night began silently to enter the room, where I was sitting in a half trance of,grief. Suddenly I became conscious of a presence be, side me. Without any manifestation to the outward -senses, I felt that — s. was there, yearning towards me with an infinite pity; and the voice which had so long been to me above all other music, sang to my hear the words below.] I shine in the light of God, His likeness stamps my brow, Through the valley of death my feet have trod And I reign in glory nowS No breaking heart is here, No keen and thrilling pain, XACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 4 No wasted cheek, where the frequent tear Ilath rolled and left its stain. ][ have found the joy of heaven, I am one of the angel band, To my head a crown is given, And a harp is in my hand. I have learned the song they sing, Whom Jesus hath made free, And the glorious walls on high shall ring With my new-born melody. No gin - no grief — no pain. Safe in my happy home - My fears all fled - my doubts all slain - My hour of triumph come - 0 friend of my mortal years! The trusted and the tried, Thou art walking still in the vale of tears, But I am by thy side. Do I forget? Oh no! For memory's golden chain Shall bind my heart to hearts below, Till they meet and touch again. Each link is strong and bright, And love's electric flame 48 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY" Flows freely down like a river of light, To the world from which I came. Do you mourn when another star Shines out from the glittering sky? Do you weep when the noise of war And the rage of conflict die? Then why should your tears roll down, And your heart be sorely riven, For another gem in the Saviour's crown,, And another soul in heaven? " BRING BACK MY FLOWERS." JUDGE. CHARLETON. A child sat by a limpid stream, And gazed upon the tide beneath; Upon her cheek was joy's bright beam, And on her brow a blooming wreath; Her lap was filled with blushing flowers; And as the clear brook babbled by, She scattered down the rosy showers, With many a wild and joyous cry, And laughed to see the mingling tide. Upon the onward progress glide. SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD'POETRY. 49 And time flew on- and flower by flower Was cast upon the sunny stream, But when the shades of eve did lower, She woke up from her blissful dream: "Bring back my flowers," she wildly cried, "Bring back my flowers I flung to thee!" But echo's voice alone replied, As danced the streamlet down the lea: And still amid night's gloomy hours, In vain she cried, I" Bring back my flowers!" Oh maiden! who on time's swift stream, Most gladly sees thy moments flee, In this poor child's delusive dream, An emblem thou may'st find of thee! Each moment is a perfumed rose, Into thy hand by mercy given, That thou its fragrance might dispose, And let its incense rise to heaven; Else when death's shadow o'er thee lowers, Thy heart will wail, " Bring back my flowers!" THE ABSENT SUN. Where are thy beams, oh Sun? The earth stands mourning for thy vanished light, When will thy rays once more rejoice the sight? 4 60 SACRED'AND HOUSEHOJLD POETRY. Shine forth again-thou bright and glorious Onef A tinge of gloom is over all things spread, And nature sighs, and veils her drooping head, How dark and dim the day! The stately pines erect their heads on high, Their sombre foliage mingles with the sky, A sky as bleak and desolate as they;Rock, river, stream and hill wear one dull hue, And nothing bright or cheerful meets the view.'The Sun-the Sun shines forth! Now the stream sparkles with a silvery light, And the blue hills look beautiful and bright; Again in light and loveliness the earth Is smiling - all her gloom is chased away, And joy descends in that reviving ray. And thus it is with thee, My soul! how oft a deep and rayless gloom Rath shrouded thee in darkness like the tomb, Within, around thee all was dark and sad, And all in Misery's sombre livery clad. The Sun returned'once moreThe Sun of Righteousness, with healing wings, Ee who salvation to the spirit brings; :SBCORED ANDflO BEEHOLD POETRY. i And all thy darkness and distress were o'er — -Thy Saviour, thy Redeemer smiled, and then;Peace, happiness were made thine own again. Sun of my soul! oh shine,Forever on my heart - let noiught conceal Thy cheering radiance —let me always feel'Thy warmth, for I am blest while thou art mine;'May no dark clouds of sin and folly rise To veil thy light fromM these adoring eyes! Thy beams shall lead me on -Through all the perils of mine upward way,,Guided by thee my footsteps shall not stray, And when this earthly pilgrimage is done I fain would hope that I shall rise above To Thee, the Fountainshead of Light and Love.'THANKS FOIR DAILY BREAD.. ROBERT HERRICK. Lord, Thou hast given me a cell, Wherein to dwell; A little house whose humble roof Is weather-proof; 5,2 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. Under the spars of which I lie Both soft and dry; Where Thou, my. chamber for to ward,. iath set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep, Me while I sleep. Low is my porch, as is my fate, Both void of state; And yet the threshold of my door Is worn by the poor, Who hither come, and freely get Good words or meat. Like as my parlor, so my hall, And kitchen small; A little buttery and therein A little bin, Which keeps my little loaf of bread Unchipt, unflead. Some little sticks of thorn or brier Make me a fire, Close by whose living coal I sit,. And glow like it. Lord, I confess, too, when I dine, The pulse is thine, And all those other bits that be There placed by thee. The worts, the purslain, and the mess. Of water cress, 'SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 53 Which of Thy kindness thou has sent: And my -content Makes these, and my beloved beet To be more sweet.'Tis Thou that crown'st my glittering hearth With guiltless mirth.; And giv'st me wassail bowls to drink, ISpiced to the brink. Lord,'tis thy plenty-dropping hand That sows my land; All this, and better, dost Thou send Me, for this end;'That I should render for my part A thankful heart, Which, fired with incense., I resign As wholly thine: But the acceptance — that must be, O Lora, by Thee.'PSALM TWENTY-THIR3D. JAMES MERRICK. to, my Shepherd's hand divine' Want shaI1l never more be mine. in a pasture fair and [arge 54 SBACRED AMD HOUSEHOLD POEnRJ He shall feed his happy' charge, And my couch with tenderest care-, -,Midst the springing grass prepare. When I faint with summer heat, He shall lead my weary feet, To the streams that still and slow: Through the verdant meadow flow. He my soul anew shall frame, f.nd, his mercy to proclaim, When through devious paths I stray. Teach my steps the better way. Though the dreary vie I tread By the shades of death o'erspread;:: There I walk from terror free, While my every wish I see -By thy rod and staff supplied; This my guard and that my guide. While my foes are-gazingon,Thou thy favoring care hast shown;: Thou my plenteous-board hast spread; Thou with oil refreshed my head;, Filled by Thee my cup o'erflows;' Fior thy Love, no limit knows: Constant to my latest end,this my footsteps- shall attend, And shall bid thy hallowed D)ome-' Yield; me'an eternal home., SACKED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRt. 55 JOYFUL THOUGHTS OF DEATH. [" In the Life of Rev. Andrew Fuller, the following hymn is referred to, as being a favorite of that eminent man during the latter pensive years of his life: and especially as being often repeated while paciug his room in the agonies of his last illness."] I sojourn in a vale of teairs, Alas, how can I sing? My harp doth on the willows hang, Dis-tuned in every string. My music is a captive's-chain; Harsh sounds my ears do fill; Nor shall I sing sweet Siot's songs On this side Sion's hill! Yet lo! I hear a joyful sound; " Surely I quickly come!" Each word much sweetness doth distili Like a full honeycomb. And dost thou come, my dearest Lord? And dost thou surely come? And dost thou surely quickly come? Methinks I am at home. Come, then1 my dearestj dearest Lordy'My sweetest, surest friend; Come, for I loath these Kedar tents Thy fiery chariots sen"d 56 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. What have I here? My thoughts and joys Are all packed up and gone; My eager soul would follow them To thine eternal throne. VVhat have I in this barren land? My Jesus is not here; Mine eyes will ne'er be blest until My Jesus doth appear. My Jesus is gone up to heaven, To get a place for me; For'tis his will that where he is There should his servants be. Canaan I view from Pisgah's top, Of Canaan's grapes I taste, My Lord, who sends unto me here, Will send for me at last. I have a God that changeth not, Why should I be perplexed? My God that owns me in this world, Will own me in the next. Go fearless, then, my soul, with God, Into another room; Thou, who hast walked with him here, Go see thy God at home. SACRED AND HOUSEEOLD POETRY. 5 View death with a believing eye; It hath an angel's face; And this kind angel will prefer Thee to an angel's place. The grave seems but a fining pot Unto believing eyes; For there the flesh shall lose its dross) And like the sun shall rise. The world, which I have known so wells Hath mocked me with its lies; How gladly could I leave behind Its vexing vanities! My dearest friends, they dwell above; Them will I go and see; And allmy friends in Christ below Will soon come after me. Fear not the trump's earth-rending sound, Dread not the day of doom; For he that is to be thy Judge, Thy Saviour is become. Blest be my God, that gives me light) Who in the dark did grope; Blest be my God, the God of love, Who causeth me to hope. SfACiED AND HOUSEHOLD P&ETRIt Hiere the words, signet, eomfort, staff,And here is grace's chain; By these, thy pledges, Lord, I know, My hopes are not in vain. THE. SOLITARY WORSHIPPER. IA single member of the Society of Friends, in Boston, is said to have gone to their place of worship for some years after all his fellow-worshippers were dead.l Alone and silent there h-e sat, Within the house of prayer; Where once with him his brethren metj In silent worship there. They all had. gone; the young and old Were gathered to the dead; IHe saw no more their friehdly looks,, He heard no: more' their tread. Yet still he loved, as came the days When they were' wont to meet, To tread the old familiar way, And take his'customed seat. Plain was the place,. an humble hall, In which he' sat alone;: h.e show of forms? the pride of arbt A10RED AD A HHOEIIOLD biET-Y, 59 To him were all unknown. No organ pealed its solemn notes, No choir the stillness broke, No preacher read the sacred page, Or to his hearer spoke; He needed not these outward things To wake the reverent mind, For other ends than such as this They seemed: to him designed. In silence, gathered to himself, The Spirit he implored, And without speech-, or outward sign,? The Father he adored.. And to his mind was opened then The meaning of the word, ~' Ask and receive," " seek ye and find,"' The Spirit of the Lord. that Spirit strengthened and consoled,: And gave him inward sight; And on his lonely, darkened path It threw a heavenly light. No more alone! For he had come! To Zion's holy hill< The city of the Living God, That saints and angels fill. The elders there, with; silver locks, The sisters' modest grace,; Te: young in a11 their i{aooenc~d 60 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY, With glory filled the place; No cloud of sorrow or of care A soul had ever known, That in that happy band he saw, Nor felt he e'er alone. Their looks of peace, and love unchanged, Assured his trembling soul; And bade him banish every fear, And every doubt control. With them again, as when on earth, He held communion sweet; And, by their sympathy, was made For heaven's own worship meet. THE FLOWERS OF. GOD. The welcome flowers are blossoming, In joyous troops revealed; They lift their dewy buds and bells, In garden, mead and field. They lurk in every sunless path Where forest-children tread; They dot, like stars, the sacred turf Which lies above the dead. SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 61 They sport with every playful wind, That stirs the blooming trees, And laugh on every fragrant bush, All full of toiling bees. From the green marge of lake and stream, Fresh vale, and mountain sod, They look in gentle glory forth, The pure, sweet flowers of God. They come, with genial airs and skies, In summer's golden prime, And to the stricken world give back Lost Eden's blissful clime: Outshining Solomon, they come, And go full soon away; But yet, like him, they meekly breathe True wisdom while they stay. If God," they whisper, "smiles on us And bids us bloom and shine, Does he not mark, 0 faithless man, Each wish and want of thine? Think, too, what joys await in heaven The blest of, human birth, When rapture such as wooes thee now,, Can reach the bad on earth!" SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETR;Y, Redeemer of a fallen race! Most merciful of kings!''Thy hallowed words have clothed with pow-r Thesq frail and beauteous-things; jAll taught by thee, they yearly speak Their message of deep love,!Bidding us fix, for life and. death, Our hearts and hopes above. THE LITTLE COFFIN.'Twas a tiny, rosewood thing, Ebon bound, and glittering With its stars of silver white, Silver tablet, black and bright, Downy pillowed, satin lined, That I, loitering, chanced to find;'Mid the dust and scent and gloom,Of the undertaker's room, Waiting empty —ahl! for whom? Aih! what love-watched cradle bed Keeps to-night the nestling head — Or on what soft, pillowing breast Is the cherub form at rest, BACRED AN'D HOUSEHOLD POETIRY. That ere long, with darkened eye, Sleeping to no lullaby,:Whitely robed, and still, and cold, Pale flowers slipping from its hold, Shall this dainty couch enfold? Ah! what bitter tears shall stain All this satin sheet like rain, And what towering hopes be hid'Neath this tiny coffin lid, Scarcely large enough to bear Little words that must be there, Little words, cut deep and true, Bleeding mothers' hearts anewSweet, pet name, and " AGED Two!" Oh! can sorrow's hovering plume Bound our pathway cast a gloom, Chill and darksome as the shade,By an infant's coffin made! From our arms an angel flies, And our startled, dazzled eyes, Weeping round its vacant place, Cannot rise its path to trace, Cannot see the angel face! (14 S ACRED AND HU.SEHgLD POETRY. THE LAW OF THE LIPS. Speak kindly to thy fellow-man, Lest he should die, while yet The bitter accents wring his heart And make his pale cheek wet/ Speak tenderly to him; for he' Hath many toils to bear; And he is weak, and oftensighsAs thou dost-under care. Speak lovingly to him; he is A brother of thine own: He well may claim thy sympathies, Who's bone of thine own bone. Speak meekly to him; he may be A holier man than thou, And fitting it may be for thee To him with reverence bow. Speak solemnly to him; for thou And he must surely meet, To make account for idle words, Before the judgment-seat. Speak faithfully to him; thy word May touch him deep within, And save his erring soul from death, And cover o'er his sin! SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 5 MIDNIGHT MUSIC. MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. "]" The Rev. Mr. George Herbert, in one of his walks to tSalisbury, to join a musical society, saw a poor man with a poorer horse, that had fallen under his load.' Putting off his canonical coat, he helped him to unload, and afterwards to load his horse. The poor man blessed him for it, and, he blessed the poor man. And.so like was he to the good Samaritan, that he gave him money to refresh both himself and his horse, at the same time admonishing him that' if he loved himself he should be merciful to his beast.' " So, leaving the poor man, and coming unto his musical friends at Salisbury, they began to wonder, that Mr. *,George Herbert, who used always to be so trimands.clean, should come into that.company so.soiled and discomposed; but he told them the reason, and one of them said to him,'he had disparaged himself.by somean an employment,'?his answer was, that' the thought of what he had done would prove music to him at midnight, and that the omis-,sion of 4it would have made discord in his conscience, whenever he should pass by that place.''For if,' said he,'I am bound to pray for all who are in distress, I am surely bound, as far as it is in my power, topractice what I pray for. And though I do not wish for the occasion every day, yet, let me tell you, I would not willingly pass.one day of my life, without -comforting a sad soul, or showing mercy; and I bless God for this opportunit.o:-So now, let us tune our instruments."'] What maketh music when the bird Doth hush its merry lay,.,~ SA CsD AND HOGEHOID POETRY. And the sweet spirit. of the flowers, Ilath sigh'd itself away' What maketh music, when the frost Doth chain the murpmuring rill, And every song:that summer woke. In winters, trance-is still What maketh musi,. when the winds, To hoarse encounter rise,. When Ocean strikes his thunder-gon& And the rent cloud, replies-. When no adventurous planet dares The midnight arch to deck, And in its startling..dream thebabe. DDoth clasp its mother's-neck? And when the fiercer. storms of lifeDo o'er the pilgrim, sweep, And earthquake voices claimn-the hopes; He treasured long and deep, When loud the threatening passions roar,. Like lions in their den, And vengeful tempests lash the. shore, — What maketbK music. then? Te deed to-humble Virtue born, Which nursing-memory taught To shun the boastful world's applause. And love the lowly thought, — BACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 67 This builds a cell within the heart, Amid the weeds of care, And tuning high its heaven-strung harp, Doth make sweet music there. WILLIE AND THEE BIRDS. A TRUE STORY.: A little black-eyed boy of five Thus spake to his mamma: "Do look at all the pretty birds; How beautiful they are! How smooth and glossy are their wings - How beautiful their hue; Besides, mamma, I really think That they are PIous too." " Why so, my dear? " the mother said, And scarce suppressed a smileThe answer showed a thoughtful head, A heart quite free from guile; "Because, when each one bows his head, His tiny bill to wet, To lift a thankful glance above, He never does forget; 68 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And so, mamma, it seems to me, That very pious they must be." Dear child, I would a lesson learn From this, sweet thought of thine, And heavenward, with a glad heart, turn These earth-bound eyes of mine; Perfected praise, indeed is given By babes below, to God in' heaven. THE BURIAL OF MOSES. " And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Bethpeor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day.-Deut. xxxiv. 6. By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side.Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, There lies a lonely grave; And no man dug that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.'That was the grandest funeral That ever passed on earth; SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 69 But no man heard the trampling Or saw the train go forth. Noiselessly as the daylight Comes when the night is done, And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun; Noiselessly as the springtime - Her crown of verdure weaves, And all the trees on all the hills Open their thousand leaves; So, without sound of music, Or voice of them that wept, Silently down, from the mountain's crown, The great procession swept. Perchance the bald old eagle, On grey Bethpeor's height, Out of his rocky eirie Looked on the wondrous sight. Perchance the lion stalking Still shuns that hallowed spot; For beast and bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not. But when the warrior dieth, His comrades in the war, With arms reversed and muffled drum, Follow the funeral car: 70 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY, They show the banners taken, They tell his battles won, And after him lead his masterless steed, While peals the minute gun. Amid the noblest of the land, Men lay the sage to rest, And give the bard an honored place With costly marble drest. In the great minster transept,' Where lights like glories fall, And the steet choir sings, and the organ rings Along the emblazoned wall. This was the bravest warrior That ever buckled sword; This the most gifted Poet That ever breath'd a word; And never earth's philosopher Traced with his golden pen On the deathless page, truths half so sage As he wrote down for men. And had he not high honor? The hill-side for his pall, To lie in state while angels wait, With stars for tapers tall, And the dark rock pines like tossing plumes Over his bier to wave, -SCUED AND EHOUSEHL POETSI. 7. find God's own hand in that lonely land To lay him in the grave. In that deep grave without a name, Whence his uncoffin'd clay ~Shall break again, most wondrous thought, Beforeithe Judgment Bay; -And stand with glory wrapped around On the hills he never trod, kAnd speak of the strife that won: our life With th' Incarnate SonofGod..!'O lonely tomb in-Moabislansd, 0 dark Bethpeor's hill,;Speak to these curious hearts ofeurs, And teach them to be still! Sod hath his mysteries of grace, Ways that we cannot tell; WIe hides them deep, like the secret leep Of him he ioved so well.,SCRIPTURE AND REASON, rWhe'holy book, like the eighth sphere doth shine With thousand lights of truth divine$ 72 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD BOERI0L~ So numberless-the stars, that'to the eye It makes but all one galaxy.' Yet reason must assist too, for in seas So vast and dangerous as these, Our course by stars above we cannot knorw, Without the compass too below. Though reason cannot through faith's mysteries see,, It sees that there and such they be; Though it, like Moses, by a sad command Must not'come into th' Holy Land, Yet thither it infallibly does-guide,And from afar'tis all descried; CHASTISEMENT. HERBERT. What, (many times I musing asked,) is man, If grief and care Keep far from him T' He knows, not what he can, Or cannot bear. HIe till the fire hath purged him, doth remnai~ Mixed all- with dross; To lack the loving discipline of pain Were endless loss& SACRED- AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 73 T.et when my Lord did ask me on-what side I were content, The grief, whereby I must be purified To'me were sent — As each imagined anguish did: appear,, Each withering bliss Before my soul, I cried, "O spare me here f Oh no, - not this!" Like one that having need of, deep within, The surgeon's knife, Would hardly bear that it should grazve the skin, Though for his, life. Nay then, but He who best doth' understand. Both what we need, And what can bear, did take my case in hand, Nor crying heed. LEGEND OF SAINT AUGUSTINE. Along the shore of sumnmer sea, Walked Saint Augustine thoughtfully; Too deeply did' he seek to scan The nature of the Lord of man. 74 SAC1RED AND rOUSEHOLD POEUIY. -Nor was the task abstruse, he thoughtHis mind with Scripture texts was fraught; He deemed to his presumption given To learn the mysteries of Heaven. Then suddenly descried he there A boy of aspect wondrous fair, Who, beading forward, o'er the strand, Scooped out a hollow in the sand, And filled it with a limpid shell, From out the ocean's briny well. Augustine spake. " My pretty boy, What is thy play or thy employ?" Look, Sir! within this little hole, The sea with all the waves that roll For sport I'll put." Augustine smiled.;' Thy sport is all for naught, my child; Thy utmost labor is in vain, Thine aim thou never canst attain." - "' Let him to whom such power's denied, Content in his own path abide; Much to the loving heart is dear, That to the brain doth dark appear." - So spake the boy:: then to the light His wings displayed, of glistening white} And like an eagle soared away, Lot in the sun's resplendent ray. BACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POEMY, 75 Long after him Augustine gazed, And said, with heart and eyes upraised,'" The truth he spake: the human mind Is still to time and space confined, And cannot pass beyond; but he Who lives in faith and righteously, So much of God shall he discern As needeth man on earth to learn." THE CRY OF WANT. VAUGHAN. Such is man's life, and such is mine, The worst of men, and yet still thine; Still thine! Thou know'st, and if not so Then give me over to my foe; Yet since, as easy'tis for Thee To make man good, as bid him be, And with one glance (could he that gain)'To look him out of all his pain, O send me from Thy holy hill So much of strength as may fulfil All thy delights, (whate'er they be) And sacred institutes in me: Open my rocky heart, and fill 76 SACRED AND HOUISEHOLD POETRY. It with obedience to thy will; Then seal it up, that as none see, So none may enter there but Thee. O hear, my GoD! Hear Him whose blood Speaks more and better for my good! O let my cry come to thy throne! My cry not poured with tears alone, (For tears alone are often fboul, But with the blood of all my soul, With spirit sighs, and earnest groans, Faithful and most repenting moans; With these I cry, and crying, pine, Till Thou both mend, and make me thine. THE RAIN DROP. It fell upon my burning cheek — A single drop of rain: I upward glanced its source to seek, But upward glanced in vain. The sky was clear, the sun was bright, No cloud was drifting nigh:'Twas but one breath of vapor light, Condensed as it flew by. 'SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 7'i Yet'twas the self-same Power that made And poised this earthly ball, Which in its flight that vapor stayed, And caused its gentle fall. Nor was it downward sent for nought: It broke a dark day-dream, Dispelled a train of painful thought, And woke a noble.theme. I mused on one too fondly loved, Too fondly prized and sung, Who had both cold and faithless proved, And had my heart-strings wrung; That rain-drop raised my downcast eye To yon bright vault of blue, And checked at once the bursting sigh, And chased the vision too. I turned from all the charms of earth, From cisterns rent and dry,'To Him who gave the planets birth, Yet hears the ravens' cry. I dwelt on all his wondrous grace To lost mankind - to me; And vowed no idol more to place Where He alone should be. 0 Lord, accept my contrite vow; My carnal thoughts control; 78 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. Impress thy signet on my brow, Thy likeness on my soul! Be thou the sovereign of my heart, And make that heart thy throne, Till I shall see Thee as thou art, And know Thee as I'm known! NO EVIL BUT SIN. Doth sadness in thy soul abide? Resume the smile of cheer; And be Jehovah's will thine own: The light that shines around the throne Shall make his purpose clear. Naught is an evil, though it lay Thy dearest idol low, Until, contending with the dart, Thy proud and unsubmissive heart Decides to make it so. Count naught an evil, while the breast From self-reproach is free - Count naught an evil, save the sin That, coiling dark the soul within, Doth hide God's face from thee. SACRED AND HOUSMOLD POETRY. 79 THE DYING CHRISTIAN. A holy calm was on his brow, And peaceful was his breath, And o'er his pallid features stole The trace of coming death. We asked, " Art ready to depart?" He smiled with joy divine, And spoke the language of his soul, " My Master's time is mine! NEARER TO THEE. Along the mountain-track of life, Along the weary lea, O'er rocks,'mid storms, in joy, in strife, Let this my heart-cry be, "Nearer to Thee!"," Nearer to Thee!' This pilgrim-path by Thee was trod, Jesus! my King! by Thee! Traced by Thy feet, Thy tears, Thy blood, Inalove, in death, for me - 0 bring my soul nearer to Thee S0 SACORED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY.. Let every step,.let every thought, Sweet memories bear of Thee! And hear the soul Thy love hath bought, Whose way-cry oft shall be, -G' Nearer to Thee! " Nearer to Thee!" Thou wilt! Thou dost! A small still voice Teacheth of faith in Thee; Of hope, that might in grief rejoice, If still the way-cry be,," Nearer to Thee!" "Nearer to Thee!" Yet a few days to me, perhaps, And time no more shall be: But boundless love can know no lapse.; Thou art Eternity!.Draw thou my soul "Nearer to Thee.!' Be it the heaven I hope above, To live and move in Thee! O by thy past, thy promised love, Grant these blest words to me, it' Ascend, Forgiven — Nearer to Thee.'" SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 81 LITTLE LUCY, AND THE SONG SHE SUNG. A little child, six summers old, So thoughtful and so fair, There seemed about her pleasant ways A more than childish air, Was sitting, on a summer eve, Beneath a spreading tree, Intent upon an ancient book, Which lay upon her knee, She turned each page with careful hand, And strained her sight to see, Until the drowsy shadows slept Upon the grassy lea; Then closed the book, and upward looked, And straight began to sing A, simple verse of hopeful love - This very childish thing: - "While here below, how sweet to know His wondrous love and story, And then, through grace, to see his face, And live with him in glory!" That little child, one dreary night Of winter wind and storm, Was tossing on a weary couch Her weak and wasted form; 6 82 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLDI POETRY. And in her pain, and in its pause, But clasped her hands in prayer — (Strange that we had no thoughts of heaven, While hers were only there) — Until she said, O 0 mother dear, How sad you seem to be! Have you forgotten that HE said, "' Let children come to me "?:Dear mother, bring the blessed Book, Come, mother, let us sing." And then again, with faltering tongue, She sung that childish thing: " While here below, how sweet to know His wondrous love and story, And then, through grace, to see his face, Apd live with him in glory!" Underneath a spreading tree A narrow mound is seen, Which first was covered by the snow, Then blossomed into green; IIere first I heard that childish voice That sings on earth no more; In heaven it hath a richer tone, And sweeter than before: For those who know his love belowSo runs the wondrous story - In heaven, through grace, shall see his face, And dwell with him in glory! 3SXCRED AND flOUSEHOLD POET=. 8 PILGRIM SONGS. -REV. W. C. DANA. "' Thy statutes have been my songs in the house of my pilgrimage."-Ps. cxix: 54. The songs that cheer the pilgrim's way Who seeks a better home on high, Purer than any earthly lay, Sublimely swell, and sweetly die.'They tell of joys unknown to earth, They tell of raptures yet to come, In that bright world which gave them birth, Whose mansions are the pilgrim's home. And as, when nmusic wakes the strings, Tho lonely sorrowing exile hears No strain so sweet as that which brings The memory of departed years. So, to the pilgrim exiled long From that blest home for which he sighs, The only joy-inspiring song, Is that which points him to the skies. And, sometimes, when its murmurs roll, While pure devotion fills the breast, And gently gliding to the soul, They hush all earthly cares to rest. 84 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. There comes a soft, responsive note, A strain like that which angels singIt comes from regions far remote, And all around its echoes ring. That strain is not of earth;'tis given To cheer the pilgrim's heart alone: It is the melody of heaven; It echoes from th' eternal throne. With transport that no tongue can tell, He hears that song of rapture high In strains of sacred grandeur swell, In tones of melting. sweetness die. O pilgrim, catch the heavenly straia,. And waken to its lingering thrills, Till earth no more thy soul enchain, Till joys sublime thy bosom fill. Nor shalt thou be an exile long; Even now bright angels bid thee come, To join in that eternal song, To rest in thy eternal home. SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 8~ GOOD NIGHT. CHARLES THE FIRST.'lose thine eyes and sleep secure, Thy soul is safe - thy body sure; HIe that guards thee- He that keeps Never slumbers - never sleeps. A quiet conscience in the breast Has only peace - has only rest. The music and the mirth of kings Are out of tune unless she sings.'Then close thine eyes in peace, and sleep secure;.No sleep so sweet as thine -.no rest -so sure. THE WISH AND THE PRAYER. BY ELLWOOD, THE FRIEND OF MILTON. O that mine eye might closed be, To what becomes me not to see; That deafness might possess mine ear,'To what concerns me not to hear;'That truth my'tongue might always tie, -From ever speaking foolishly! That no vain thought might ever rest,':r be conceived within myTbreaast; SACRED AND HOUSEHOME POETRY That by each word, each deed, each thought Glory may to my God be brought; But what are wishes? Lord, mine eye On thee is fixed; to thee I cry. 0, purge out all.my dross,,my sin, Make me more white than snow within: Wash, Lord, and purify my. heart, And make it clean in every part; And when'tis clean, Lord,.keep it so, For that! is more than I can do. BLESSEDI BE- THY NAME, H O.'G:GG. Blessed be Thy name forever,Thou of: life the guard and giver; Thou: canst guard thy creatures sleepingr Heal the heart long broke with weeping God of stillness and of motion, Of the desert and. the, ocean,. Of the mountains, rock, and river;., Blessed be Thy name forever!v Thou who slumberest not, nor sleepest, Blest are they thou kindly keepest; -ACiRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. God of evening's parting ray, Of midnight's gloom, and dawning day, That rises from the azure sea, Like breathings of eternity; God of life! that fade shall never, Blessed be Thy name forever THE BLESSING. I was within a house of prayer, And many a wounded heart was there; And many an aching heart was bowed, Humbly amidst the kneeling crowd:.Nor marvel; where earth's children press There must be thought of bitterness. Oh! in the change of human life - The anxious wish, the toil, the strife How much we know of grief and pain, Ere one short week comes round again..Bend every knee, lift every heart; We need God's blessing ere we part. Then sweetly through the hallowed bound Woke the calm voice of solemn sound;, 88' SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And gladly many a listening ear Watched that pure tone of love to heara And on each humbled heart and true, GOD'S holy blessing fell like dew. Like dew on Summer's thirsty flowers, On the mown grass like softest showers; On the parched earth like blessed rain, That calls the Spring bloom back again t Oh! to how many a varied sigh Did that sweet benison reply! "The peace that God bestows, Through Him who died and rose;'The peace the FATHER giveth through the SON Be known in every mind, The broken heart to bind, And bless ye travellers as ye journey on. "1 Ere this week's strife begin, The war without, within; The TRIUNE GOD with spirit and with power, Now on each bended head His wondrous blessing shed, And keep you all, through every troubled hour i'" And then within the holy place Was silence for a minute's space; AOCRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. S3 Such silence, that you seemed to hear The holy DovE's wings hovering near; And the still blessing far and wide,'Tell like the dew at evening tide; And ere we left the house of prayer, We knew that peace descended there; And through the week of strife and din, We bore its wondrous seal within! THE SHEPHERD. Suggested by an allegory of Bishop Heber's, and written by the dying bed of one of the lambs of the Saviour's flock. There was an eastern shepherd)'Who had a lovely child, The dearest and the fondest On which that parent smiled. But bitter winds came sweeping; The tender stem gave way, Its early buds were scattered In premature decay. The father,sat in silence And sorrow by his side, 90 SACKED AND HOUSEHOLD POETR-d His spirit was in bitterness, And peevishly he cried "' Oh! it was cruel, cruel, To call thee thus away:'That what I loved so fondlyj Might here no longer stay. " I could have spared anotherj Though with a deep-drawn-sigh; But thou, - my heart's best treasure,I thought not thou couldst die." Yet quickly was he silenced, For when he raised his eye, A stranger mild and courteous Was standing watching by. Not a single word was spoken, For the stranger did not stayo But raised his hand in silence, And beckoned him away.'Twas the solemn hour of midnight4 The moon was shining bright, And every thing around them Wrapped in its silvery light, ACREIEDI AND HOSESOLD POETRY. 91 They passed each varied object In saddened silence by; Till they came unto the fold Where sheep slept quietly. I am a shepherd too," (he said,) "With, a better fold than thine, With pastures green and waters clear, And skies that ever shine. "' Now, if thou wert to take a lamb To fondle to thy breast, Wouldst thou not choose the youngest one, The loveliest and the best? "' Then, wherefore grieve that when I came, To take a lamb from thee; I chose the fairest of the flock To come and dwell with me.?" The stranger paused, —the father turned, And raised his tearful eye; He stood a-lone in the starlit fold, Where the sheep slept quietly. He threw him down on the dewy grass, And strove a prayer to raise; But his voice was lost in thankfulness; And his heart was filled with prase;. 92 SACRED AND IOUtOSEHOLD POETRt. GOD KNOWS IT ALL. In the dim recess of thy spirit's chamber, Is there some hidden grief thou may'st not tell, Let not thy heart forsake thee; but remember, His pitying eye, who sees and knows it well. God knows it all! And art thou tossed on billows of temptation, And would'st do good, but evil oft prevails? 0 think amid the waves of tribulation When earthly hopes, and earthly refuge fails — God knows it all! And dost thou sin, thy deed of shame concealing In some dark spot no human eye can see, Then walk in pride, without one sigh revealing The deep remorse that should disquiet thee? God knows it all! Art thou oppressed,'and poor, and heavy hearted~ The heavens above thee in thick clouds arrayed, And well nigh crushed; no earthly thought imparted,.No friendly voice to say, " Be not afraid'"' God knows it all! Art thou a mourner? are thy tear-drops flowing For one too early lost to earth and thee? SACRED AND ID OUSEHOLD POETRY. 93 The depths of grief no human spirit knowing, Which moan in secret, like the moaning sea? God knows it all! Dost thou look back upon a life of sinning? Forward, and tremble for thy future lot? There's One who sees the end from the beginning, Thy tear of penitence is unforgot - God knows it all! Then go to God. Pour out your hearts before him; There is no grief your Father cannot feel; And let your grateful songs of praise adore himTo save, forgive, and every wound to heal. God knows it all-God knows it all! "I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY." " I would not live alway" - but here I would stay, Till thou, 0 my Saviour, shalt call me away; In faith and in hope looking upward to Thee, Who art pardon, and peace, and salvation to me. "I would not live alway"- but sweet are the days Which here I may spend in devotion and praise, — Q94 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. Days blest with the presence and cheered with the love Of Him who will lead me to glory above. "I would not live alway"- but Thy blessed will While I live, 0 my God, let me gladly fulfil, And seek by obedience true and sincere, Thy great name to honor and glorify here.," I would not live alway"- but dwelling below, Where sin has occasioned such wide-spreading wo, Let me seek the sad heart of the mourner to cheer, To comfort and bless the afflicted ones here.' I would not live alway"- but here let me seek The guilty to warn, and to strengthen the weak; To point the lost soul to a Saviour above, Who waits to receive him with tenderest love. "' I would not live always"- but while I remain, Let me welcome alike every pleasure and pain Which proceeds from His hand who is faithful and true, Who in mercy chastises and pities me too. " I would not live alway"- whenever Thy voice, Redeemer! shall call me, my soul shall rejoice; SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 95 Then, saved by thy grace, may I gladly arise To meet thee, and dwell with thee, Lord, in the skies! ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU. That mystic word of thine, oh Sovereign Lord! Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me; Weary of striving, and with longing faint, I breathe it back again in prayer to thee. Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee, From this good hour. O leave me never more; Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed, The life-long bleeding of the soul be o'er. Abide in me - o'ershadowed by thy love, Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin; Quench, ere it rise, each selfish low desire, And keep my soul as thine calm and divine. As some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades it with a fragrance not its own - So when thou dwellest in a mortal soul, 96 SACRED AND HOQUSEHOLD POETRY. All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown. The soul alone, like a neglected harp, Grows out of tune, and needs that hand divine; Dwell thou within it, tune and touch the chords, Till every note and string shall answer thine. Abide in me; there have been moments pure When I have seen thy face and felt thy power Then evil lost its grasp, and passion hushed Owned the divine enchantment of the hour. These were but seasons beautiful and rare; Abide in me - and they shall ever be; I pray thee now fulfil my earnest prayerCome and abide in me, and I in Thee. LITTLE AT FIRST, BUT MIGHTY AT LAST. CHARLES MACKAY. A traveller through a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea, And one toolk root and sprouted up, BSACRED'AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And grew into a tree. lbove sought its shadeat evening time To breathe its early vows, And Age was pleased, in heats of noon, To bask beneath its boughs; The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, The birds sweet music bore, It stood a glory in its place, A blessing evermore.! -A little spring had lost its way Among the grass and fern;.A passing stranger scooped a well., Where weary men might turn. lie walled it in, and hung with care A ladle at the brink l-He thought not of the deed he did, But judged that toil might drink. MHe passed again, - and lo, the well, By su,.mers never dried, Iliad cooled ten thousand parching tongues, And saved aslife beside..A dreamer dropped a random thought;'Twas old, and yet'twas new - A simple fancy of the brain, But strong in being true. It shone upon a genial mind,.7 98 SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD' POETRY'.E And lo! its light became A lamp of life, a beacon ray, A monitory flame. The thought was small - its, issue great';: A watch-fire on the hill,. It shed its radiance far adown,. And cheers the valley still A, nameless man, amid a crowd That thronged the daily mart, Let fall the word of hope and love,. Unstufdied from the heart;. A whisper on the tumult thrownA transitory breath — It raised a brother from the dust, It saved a soul from death. O germ 0, fount! 0 word of Love-! Q~ thought at random cast! Ye were but little at the first, Yet mighty at the last!: ONLY @NE LIFE: 91is not for man to trifle! life is brtit And sin, is hereg SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 99 Our age is but the falling of a leaf, A dropping tear. We have no time to sport away the hours; All must be earnest in a world like ours. Not many lives, but only one have we,One, only one;How sacred should that one life ever be,That narrow span! - Day after day filled up with blessed toil, Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil. HYMN FOR AN INFANT CLASS. A giddy lamb one afternoon Had from the fold departed; The tender shepherd missed it soon, And sought it broken-hearted. Not all the flocks that shared his love Could from the search delay him, Nor clouds of midnight darkness move, Nor fear of suffering stay him. But night and day he went his way In sorrow, till he found it; 100- SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. And when he saw it fainting lie, He clasped his arms around it. Then, safely folded to his breast, From every ill to save it, He brought it to his home of rest, And pitied and forgave it. And thus the Saviour will receive The little ones who fear him; Their pains remove, their sins forgive, And draw them gently near him. Bless while they live, and when they die, When flesh and spirit sever - Conduct them to his throne on high, To dwell with him forever. OUR REST. "The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in as." — [Rom. viii: 18. My feet are worn and weary with the march O'er the rough road, and up the steep hill-side; Oh! city of our God, I fain would see Thy pastures green, where peaceful waters glide. SACRED AND HOUSEHOLD POETRY. 101 My hands are weary too, with toiling on, Day after day for perishable meat; Oh! city of our God, I fain would rest — I sigh to gain thy glorious mercy-seat. My garments, travel-worn and stained with dust, Oft rent by briars and thorns that crowd my way, Would fain be made, 0 Lord, my righteousness, Spotless and white in Heaven's unclouded ray. My eyes are weary looking at the sin, Impiety and scorn upon the earth; Oh! city of our God, within thy walls All - all are clothed again with thy new birth. My heart is weary of its own deep sin - Sinning, repenting, sinning still again; When shall my soul thy glorious presence feel, And find, dear Saviour, it is free from stain? Patience, poor soul, the Saviour's feet were worn; The Saviour's heart and hands were weary, too; His garments stained, and travel-worn, and old; His vision blinded with a pitying dew. Love thou the path of sorrow that he trod; Toil on, and wait in patience for thy rest; Oh! city of our God, we soon shall see Thy glorious walls-home of the loved and blest. 102 SACRED AND-HOUSEIOLD POETRt, WATCH, WATCH, MOTHERI Mother! watch the little feet Climbing o'er the garden wall, Bounding through the busy street, Ranging cellar, shed and hall; Never count the moments lost, Never mind the time it cost; Little feet will go astray, Guide them, mother, while you may. Mother! watch the little hand Picking berries by the way, Making houses in the sand, Tossing on the fragrant hay. Never dare the question ask, "6 Why to me this weary task?" These same little hands may prove Messengers of light and love. Mother! watch the little tongue Prattling eloquent and wild, What is said, and what is sung, By the happy, joyous child. Catch the word while yet unspoken~ Stop the vow before'tis broken; This same tongue may yet proclaim Blessings in a Saviour's name. 'SACED AND HOUSEHOLD POETY 1