WRITTEN ON THE BLANK LEAF OF A BIBLE.
O, NEVER on this holy book
With careless, cold indifference look ;
'Tis God's own word; and they who read
With prayful hearts and reverent heed,
Shall gain from each unfolded page
A blessing for their heritage.
If thou art sad, come here and find
A balm to soothe and cheer thy mind;
If thou art merry, here are songs
Meet to be sung by angel's tongues-
Meet to be sung by sinful men,
For whom the Lamb of God was slain;
If thou art rich in things of earth,
Learn here thy wealth is nothing worth;
If thou art poor, this precious mine
Hath countless treasures-they are thine!
Dost thou lack wisdom ? look herein,
And surely thou shalt wisdom win-
Wisdom to guide thee on the road
Which leads, through faith in Christ, to God.
ON A PORTRAIT OF A TRUE
CHRISTIAN.
LONG may his living countenance express
The air and lineaments of holiness!
Like Abraham's, faith's sublimest pledge display,
When bound upon the altar Isaac lay;
Kindle like Jacob's, when he felt his power
With God, and wrestled till the day-break hour;
Shine like the face of Moses, when he came,
All radiant, from the mount that burned with flame;
Flash like Elisha's, when, his sire in view,
He caught the mantle and the spirit too;
Darken like Jonah's, when with "Woe" he went
Through trembling Ninevah, and cried "Repent."
Brighten like Stephen's, when his foes amazed,
As if an angel stood before them gazed;
And like that Martyr's at his latest breath,
Reflect his Saviour's image full in death.
TIME on swift wings, pursues his rapid course
Through months and years with unabated force
Bearing vast millions in his hasty flight,
To realms of bliss or everlasting night.
Are we pursuing pleasure, honour, wealth,
With anxious minds, warmed by the pulse of
health ?
Yet time is short, and health will soon decay,
While like a leaf our bodies wear away.
Time flies, death strikes, eternity appears,
Rich with immortal joys, or filled with tears;
With joy to all, whose lively hopes rely,
On him whose word produced the earth and sky.
Sinner be wise! remember time is short;
Lift up thine eyes from earth, and count it nought:
Christ is the way to God-his word believe,
Then shall thy soul, eternal life receive.
THE WORKS OF GOD.
THE God of nature and of grace,
In all bis works appears;
His goodness through the earth we trace,
His grandeur in the spheres.
Behold this fair and fertile globe,
By him in wisdom planned;
'Twas he who girded, like a robe,
The ocean round the land.
Lift to the firmament your eye,
Thither his path pursue;
His glory, boundless as the sky,
O'erwhelms the won'dring view.
Here on the hills he feeds his herd,
His flocks on yonder plains;
His praise is warbled by the birds,-
O could we catch their strains!
Mount with the lark, and bear our song
Up to the gates of light:
Or, with the nightingale, prolong
Our numbers through the night.
His blessings fall in plenteous showers,
Upon the lap of earth,
That teems with foliage, fruit, and flowers,
And rings with infant mirth.
"Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labour until the evening."-Psalm civ .23
WHO is this, at dawn of day,
Hastening from his home away?
'Tis the honest labourer's tread,
Called to seek his daily bread.
Called by God's almighty will,
His appointment to fulfil.
Dost thou mark the eastern sky
As the daylight draweth nigh,
How the shadows disappear,
Sunshine coming bright and clear?
Thus, oh thus! within thy heart,
May the shades of sin depart,
Thus may beams of light divine
Through the love of Jesus shine.
Dost thou see the early dew,
Making all things fresh and new?
Lift thy heart to God and pray
For his grace from day to day;
Like the precious dew of heaven,
To thy longing spirit given,
Is there music in the air,
Feathered songsters warbling there.
Thus awakened from thy rest,
Let thanksgivings fill thy breast;
Then, in glad contentment still,
Bless thy Father's heavenly will.
LABOURER cease! thy work is done,
Rest thee now at set of sun;
And upon thy homeward way,
Think, and meditate, and pray.
Think of all thy daily toil
On the hard and barren soil.
Think of thorns and briers growing
Mid the seed thou hast been sowing.
Think upon the sun and rain,
Which can fertilize the plain,
Then, O turn thine eye within,
On the hardened soil of sin :
Thorns of evil to uproot
Ere thou bearest holy fruit,
And the Spirit's gentle power,
Descending like a welcome shower.
God hath bid thee till the ground,
That the harvest may abound;
Bid thee work within thy soul,
Till His grace shall make thee whole.
Then, as evening shadows close,
Leading thee to calm repose,
Think upon the night of death,
When shall cease thy fleeting breath:
Think upon thy rest above,
Given by the Saviour's love:
On that everlasting life,
Free from toil, and sin, and strife.
And as thou art drawing near
To thy house and comforts here,
Pray that heaven thy home may be
Through a bright eternity.
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