THE SIMPLICITY OF THE GOSPEL.
O HOW unlike the complex works of man,
Heaven's easy, artless, unencumbered plan!
No meritricious graces to beguile,
No clustering ornaments to clog the pile:
From ostentation as from weakness free,
It stands like the cerulean arch we see,
Majestic in its own simplicity.
Prescribed above the portal, from afar
Conspicious, as the brightness of a star,
Legible only by the light they give,
Stand the soul-quickening words "Believe and
THE VALUE OF THE SCRIPTURES.
O CHILD of sorrow, be it thine to know,
That Scripture only is the cure of woe!
That field of promise, how it flings abroad,
Its perfumes o'er the Christian's thorny road;
The soul reposing on assured belief,
Feels herself happy amidst all her grief,
Forgets her labour, as she toils along-
Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song.
THE CHRISTIAN DEPARTING IN
THE hour of my departure's come,
I hear a voice that calls me home;
At last, O Lord, let trouble cease,
And let thy servant die in peace,
The race appointed I have run,
The combat's o'er-the prize is won;
And now my witness is on high,
And now my record's in the sky.
Not in my righteousness I trust;
I bow before thee in the dust;
And through my Saviour's blood alone,
I look for mercy at thy throne.
I leave the world without a tear,
Save for the friends I hold so dear;
To heal their sorrows, Lord, descend,
And to the friendless prove a friend.
The hour of my departure's come;
I hear the voice that calls me home;
Now, O my God, let trouble cease,
And let thy servant die in peace.
I LOVE to steal awhile away
From every cumbering care,
And spend the hours of closing day
In humble, grateful prayer.
I love in solitude to shed
The penitential tear,
And all His promises to plead,
Where none but God can hear.
I love to think on mercies past,
And future good implore,
And all my sighs and sorrows cast
On Him whom I adore.
I love by faith to take a view
Of brighter scenes in heaven;
Such prospects oft my strength renew,
While here by tempests driven.
Thus, when life's toilsome day is o'er,
May its departing ray
Be calm as this impressive hour,
And lead to endless day.
WE mourn for those who toil,
The slave who ploughs the mair.,
Or him who hopeless tills the soil
Beneath the stripe and chain,
For those who in the world's hard race,
O'er wearied and unblest,
A host of restless phantoms chase-
Why mourn for those who rest?
We mourn for those who sin,
Bound in the tempter's snare, Whom syren pleasure beckons in The prisons of despair.
Whose hearts by whirlwind passions torn,
Are wrecked on folly's shore-
But why in sorrow should we mourn
For those who sin no more?
We mourn for those who weep,
Whom stern afflictions bend,
With anguish o'er the lowly sleep
Of lover or of friend ;-
But they to whom the sway,
Of pain and grief is o'er,
Whose tears our God hath wiped away,
Oh, mourn for them no more.
O CHRIST, our hope, our heart's desire,
Redemption's only spring!
Creator of the world art Thou,
Its Saviour and its King.
How vast the mercy and the love,
Which laid our sins on Thee,
And led Thee to a cruel death,
To set Thy people free!
But now the bonds of death are burst,
The ransom has been paid;
And Thou art on Thy Father's throne
In glorious robes arrayed.
Oh! may Thy mighty love prevail,
Our sinful souls to spare!
Oh! may we come before Thy throne,
And find acceptance there.
Oh! Christ be thou our present joy,
Our future great reward!
Our only glory may it be,
To glory in the Lord.
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