« AnteriorContinuar »
every other day there seems to be
forth And do the toilsome day's work of the earth, For some small profit of enjoyment made, * And likely never paid. O how I love thee! So unlike thy rays To the precursors of all other days; They give not sound to battle or to toil. Drowsy forgetfulness loitering awhile Upon the wakening senses, ere I know Why thou art welcome, I can feel thee so. A gentle stillness waits on thy returnings, Unlike all other mornings. What is there for to-day? Nothing to-day, Except to go our willing, happy way In search of Him we love; and calmly sit In lowly adoration at His feetTo gather deeper knowledge of His ways, Or list His promises, or sing His praise ! Ye happy, happy moments! Will they say Ye are not of His appointing? Not a day That He has hallowed for Himself and claimed, And, as it were, redeemed From the long servitude of timeTo be from care's long toiling free? A part reclaimed from what was once His own, His undivided own?
O cease to say so! Why forbid the breast
“ For by grace are ye saved, through faith ; and that not of
yourselves : it is the gift of God.”—Eph. i. 8.
BLIND, weak, and restless, man by nature knows, Nor heavenly light, nor freedom, nor repose.
His all embarked on life's uncertain sea,
The fragile vessel must for ever be,
Amidst the elemental storm,
Behold, an angel form:
She speaks—but not with syren voice;
And leads him to rejoice.
While peacefully the vessel glides along,
And when the winds prevail,
She holds the helm, she furls the sail,
Dangers unnoticed by the careless eye.
And with fresh energy inspires his breast,
Until in peace he gains the haven of his rest.
For she hath visited the world unknown,
And tasted of its pleasures;
To scan its boundless treasures !
hath seen Nor ear discerned, and where no thought hath been, Save that Great Spirit, that Almighty mind In splendour inaccessible enshrined ; Who is, who was, who will for ever be Throned in the praises of eternity!
Believer - canst thou see that land so fair ?
Incline thine ear to what the vision saith.
“MY FATHER’S AT THE HELM."
The curling waves, with awful roar,
A little boat assailed,
O'er all on board prevailed.
Save one, the Captain's darling child,
Who steadfast viewed the storm,
At danger's threatening form.
“And sport'st thou thus," a seaman cried,
66 While terrors overwhelm ?”
So when our worldly all is reft,
Our earthly helpers gone,
God helps, and He alone!
He to our prayers will bend an ear,
He gives our pangs relief;
To joy each torturing grief.
Then turn to Him, mid sorrows wild,
When wants and woes o’erwhelm ;
Our Father's at the helm.
DEATH AND RESURRECTION. Know, Death, that thou must render up thy dead, And with high interest too! they are not thine; But only in thy keeping for a season, Till the great promised day of restitution; When loud diffusive sound from brazen trump Of the Archangel, shall awake thy captives, And rouse the long, long sleepers into life, Day-light, and liberty:- We know The illustrious Deliverer of His own, The Son of God, thee foiled. Him in thy power Thou couldst not hold: self-vigorous He rose, And, shaking off thy fetters, soon retook Those spoils His voluntary yielding lent (Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall). Twice twenty days He sojourned here on earth, And showed Himself alive to chosen witnesses By proofs so strong, that the most slow assenting Had not a scruple left. This having done, He mounted up to heaven. Methinks I see Him Climb the aerial heights, and glide along Athwart the severing clouds: but the faint eye, Flung backwards in the chase, soon drops its hold, Disabled quite, and wearied with pursuing. Heaven's portals wide expand to let Him in;