O WHAT a night was that which wrapt
The heathen world in gloom!
O what a sun which broke this day
Triumphant from the tomb!
The powers of darkness leagued in vain
To bind our Lord in death;
He shook their kingdom when he fell
By his expiring breath.
And now his conquering chariot-wheels
Ascend the lofty skies:
Broken beneath his powerful cross,
Death's iron sceptre lies.
This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud hosannas sung;
Let gladness dwell in every heart,
And praise on every tongue.
Ten thousand various lips shall join
To hail this happy morn;
Which scatters blessings from its wings
On nations yet unborn.
HEAVE, mighty ocean, heave,
And blow thou boisterous wind! Onward we swiftly glide, and leave Our home and friends behind.
Away, away we steer
Upon the ocean's breast;
And dim the distant heights appear,
Like clouds along the west.
But wherefore should we grieve ?
Or what have we to fear?
Though home, and friends, and all we leave,
Since God is ever near.
Sweep, mighty ocean, sweep;
Ye winds blow foul or fair;
Our God is with us on the deep,
He makes us still his care.
WHAT are all our earthly pleasures,
But the dew drops on the thorn,
Little sparkling glitt'ring treasures,
Fleeting gems that deck the morn.
"So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."-Psalm xc. 12.
THE early dawning ray,
Unseals my slumbering eyes;
I watch it brightening into day,
Then from my couch arise;
And muse what coming hours shall be,
And what their flight may bring to me.
But even while I muse,
'Those hours are fleeting fast;
There is no pause for future views,
All, all is hurrying past:
Unceasing as a torrent's flow,
The days, and hours, and minutes go.
E'en thus the morning light
Of childhood speeds away;
And youth with all its colours bright,
Rolls on to manhood's day;
And manhood's sun must set beneath
The darkness of decay and death.
And then the night shall come,
The night, so still and deep;
When all within the silent tomb,
Must lay them down to sleep;
And each dull heavy eye shall close,
Forgetting earth, and earthly woes.
Oh! would we sweetly rest,
When each day's toil is done-
And would we with untroubled breast,
Repose at set of sun-
Then let the swiftly rolling days
Be spent in God's appointed ways.
And would we part in peace
When life's last hour is nigh-
Bid all our doubts and terrors cease,
And calmly, gently_die-
Then let us cling to Jesus' love,
And seek the things which are above!
Yea, let the hours be given
To Him from whom they flow;
And let us raise our hearts to Heaven,
While working here below;
So every passing day shall be
A step still nearer, Lord, to thee!
THERE is an hour of peaceful rest,
To mourning wanderers given;
There is a joy for souls distress'd,
A balm for every wounded breast,
'Tis found above in heaven.
There is a home for weary souls,
By sin and sorrow driven;
When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals,
Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,
And all is drear but heaven!
There, faith lifts up her cheerful eye
To brighter prospects given;
And views the tempest passing by,
The evening shadows quickly fly,
And all's serene in heaven!
There fragrant flowers, immortal, bloom,
And joys supreme are giv'n;
There rays divine disperse the gloom :
Beyond the confines of the tomb,
Appears the dawn of heaven.
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