THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL.
WHY, my soul, this trembling fear?
Would'st thou linger always here ?
Dost thou love thy prison so?
Wilt thou never wish to go?
Look beyond this earthly frame:
Rise, O rise; immortal flame !
Rise, my soul; triumphant sing:
"Where, O, death, thy painful sting?
Where, O, grave, thy dreadful power,
Since that great and awful hour,
When the Son of God arose,
And did heaven itself disclose ?
"Pains and sorrows now adieu;
Once I sunk oppress'd by you.
Now the world of light appears,
1 have done with carnal fears.
Quickly shall I haste away,
And enjoy eternal day.
"Loved companion of my soul,
Thou must sink in earth awhile;
There, all mingled with the clay,
Thou must wait the judgment day;
Then the trumpet's awful sound,
Shall awake thee from the ground.
"Listen-now thy heav'nly choirs,
Strike aloud their golden lyres.
Hark! they call thee to arise,
And with them ascend the skies.
View no more this transient scene,
Come with us to joys serene."
How fine has the day been, how bright was the
How lovely and joyful the course that he run,
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And their followed some droppings of rain!
But now the fair traveller's come to the west,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the sky gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretels a bright rising again.
Just such is the Christian; his course he begins, Like the sun in a mist, when he mourns for his
And melts into tears; then he breaks out and
And travels his heavenly way;
But when he comes nearer to finish his race,
Like the fine-setting sun, he looks richer in grace,
And gives a sure hope at the end of his days,
Of rising in brighter array.
THE sea! the sea! the glorious sea!
What has the earth so fair,
Of hill or valley, grove or lea,
Which may with it compare ?
Oh! I could sit for hours to look
Upon its wide expanse,
And read in its unwritten book,
Fresh charms at every glance.
The sea! the sea! the solemn sea!
It has a voice for all,
And e'en to hearts of happiest glee
May sober thoughts recall.
To me it speaks of distant days,
Of vanished hopes and fears,-
Who silently can see it gaze
With eyes undimmed by tears ?
The sea! the sea Í the changeless sea!
Of tears I take my leave,
It half recalls a smile from me
To think for what I grieve;
The hopes and fears I sorrowed o'er
Were hopes and fears of time;
Thou art the type of something more
Unchanging and sublime.
"Whom having not seen ye love.”—I. Peter, i. 8.
WE cannot see that gracious Lord Whose blood upon the cross was pour'd, We cannot hear that pardoning voice, Which bids the weary soul rejoice.
No! our Redeemer dwelleth high,
In realms of bliss beyond the sky;
Where holy angels sing His praise,
And worship Him with joyful lays.
Yet though we cannot see His face,
We bless him for his wondrous grace,
We try to love Him more and more,
And all His righteousness adore.
Strengthened by faith our souls would rise
In glad rejoicing to the skies;
And may the hope within us dwell,
Of glories more than tongue can tell.
Oh Jesus! from thy Throne above,
Look down on us in tender love:
And though unseen by mortal eye,
In Spirit, be Thou ever nigh.
HAIL, peaceful morn! thy dawn I hail!
How do thy hours my mind regale
With fruits of heavenly joy!
Nor can I all thy blessings name
Which kindle in my soul a flame,
And all my powers employ.
Thou hallow'd season of repose,
Thou balm to soothe the throbbing woes
Of this care stricken breast;
Thy sacred hours I'll ever greet,
And with thee faithful will I meet
To taste thy holy rest.
How shall I best improve thy hours?
Lord, on me shed in copious showers
Thy Spirit and thy grace!
That when thy sacred courts I tread,
My soul may eat the heav'nly bread,
And sing Jehovah's praise.
May every sermon, like the dew,
Gently descend, refresh, renew,
And calm my anxious mind;
Received with meekness, truth, and love,
Engrafted, fruitful may it prove
And leave its joy behind.
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