Hymns and Sacred Poems

James George Deck was born 1st November, 1807, at Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, and was blessed, like Timothy, with a praying mother, one who used to retire every evening to her room for a quiet hour with God on behalf of her children, and also of her children's children, and who never punished her children without first praying with them. All of her children were early converted and consecrated unto God; a blessing which has descended unto the third generation. One of her daughters, Mrs. M. J. Walker, was the authoress of "Jesus, I will trust Thee", "The wanderer no more will roam", besides other well-known hymns.

Having studied for the Army at Paris, under one of Napoleon's generals, Mr. Deck went to India in 1824 as an officer in the East India Company's service, receiving a commission in the 14th Madras Native Infantry. Even then there had been deep conviction of sin, under stress of which he drew up on one occasion a code of good resolutions, signing it with his own blood, only to find himself without strength to keep them. His youthful ambition was that, having distinguished himself in his profession, he might afterward enter Parliament for his native town.

But God had better things in store for him, for returning to England in 1826, he was brought under the power of the Gospel, and was converted "through a sermon preached by a godly Church of England clergyman whom his sister Clara, herself previously converted, took him to hear." All things became new

to him, his life's passion then being to follow Jesus and win souls for the kingdom. About this time he became acquainted with and married the daughter of Samuel Feild, an evangelical clergyman, and in her he found a wife who, through grace, shared with himself the "like precious faith.”

On returning to India he at once took his place as a Christian amongst his brother officers, and began boldly witnessing for Christ, a number being led through his instrumentality to know and trust the same precious Savior. Becoming exercised as to his position as a Christian in the Army he resigned his commission, with the intention of becoming a clergyman, and with this object he returned to England in 1835 with his wife and two children. Whilst visiting his father-in-law, Mr. Feild, at the vicarage, Hatherleigh, Devon, his second son, Dr. J. Feild Deck, was born and christened. An observation made by Mr. Feild in connection with this christening against some Baptists who were troubling his Parish caused Mr. Deck to examine the Word of God upon the question of the "baptismal regeneration" of infants as set forth in the Prayer Book. Not finding such teaching supported by the Bible he became exercised as to his forthcoming ordination as a clergyman, when he would have to declare, ex animo that he "assented and consented to all and everything contained in the Book of Common Prayer." Approaching his loved wife he said, "I have left the Army to become a clergyman, but now see that the Church of England is contrary to the Word of God; what shall we do?" Her noble reply was,

“Whatever you believe to be the will of God, do it at any cost." The Church of England and the promised "living" had to be given up. But, what were they to join? Plainly, what they "found written" (Neh. 7: 5) must be the test of everything. Seeking thus to be absolutely guided by the Written Word, they presently found themselves in touch with many other Christians similarly exercised at that time, and who have since become known as "brethren." Having themselves been baptized by immersion as believers, there was henceforth no more infant baptism in their family.

Leaving the Church of England and the traditions of men, and looking only to the Lord to supply their temporal wants, a trust never disappointed, Mr. Deck began to witness for Christ in the villages of Colaton Raleigh, Kingston, Devon, seeking, like Ezra, not only to be a "ready scribe" (Ezra 7: 6) in the Word of God, but likewise "to do and to teach" the precious truths so recently apprehended in it. It was a singularly godless, High Church, parish, but soon many precious souls were won for God through the preaching of the Gospel, and having been baptized as believers were gathered unto the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ in church fellowship, according to Acts 2: 42, as "holy brethren" (Heb. 3: 1) waiting for God's Son from Heaven (1 Thess. 1:10).

It was during this period, between 1838 and 1844, that Mr. Deck wrote most of those hymns which have been his special ministry to the Church of God: "Abba! Father! we approach Thee"; "A little while! our Lord shall come"; "Lamb of God! our souls adore Thee";

and "Jesus, we remember Thee", being written in 1838. His hymns were not evangelistic, but rather hymns of worship and Christian consecration, in view of our Lord's near return.

His sphere of ministry was chiefly in the western counties of England, residing and laboring after he left Kingston at Sidmouth, Wellington, and Weymouth; with mission visits to Otterton and to East Coker, near Taunton; being much used in these various places in conversions and also in instructing and establishing those who believed in the divine truths and principles which in the Word of God had become so precious unto himself. Whilst in Wellington the late Henry Dyer assisted in the school, and proved a loved and valued fellow-laborer in the ministry of the Word. In 1852 he had an illness and breakdown so severe as to call for an entire cessation from ministry, and that the school should be given up. The medical men recommending a sea voyage and a complete change of occupation as essential to his recovery, it was decided to emigrate to New Zealand.

Arriving in 1853, Mr. Deck purchased land and settled with the family at Waiwerro, near the village of Motueka, in the Nelson province, where three months later his devoted wife, after a brief illness, "fell asleep", and was laid to rest in the Motueka Cemetery. Health having been wonderfully restored, he had the joy before long of witnessing once more in the land of his adoption for his beloved Lord and Savior.

He removed in 1865 with his family to Wellington, an effectual door of service having been opened to him

in that city and province both in the Gospel and in church fellowship, a large and happy meeting being gathered at Wellington and several other assemblies in the district. During this time several more hymns were given him: "Jesus, our life, is risen"; "Lord of life, this day rejoices all who know Thee, strong to save", etc. He also wrote that splendid baptismal hymn, "Around Thy grave, Lord Jesus", and others, "Father, we seek Thy face", "Great Captain of Salvation", "In love we part as brethren", "Jesus, Thy name we love", "Lord Jesus, are we one with Thee?", "Lord we are Thine", "O happy day, when first we felt", "Oft we, alas, forget the love", "The veil is rent", and many others.

He paid a visit to Invercargill, the southernmost city in the colony, where his son, Dr. J. Feild Deck, was practicing, and in whose house a little company of a dozen had commenced to remember the Lord in the breaking of bread, whom he much helped by his ministry.

Feeling at length with advancing years unequal for carrying on the work at Wellington, he returned with his family to Motueka, where, after being for two years a complete invalid, the Home-call came, 14th August, 1884, in his 76th year; and on Sunday, 17th August, "devout men" laid the earthly tabernacle to rest in the Motueka Cemetery. There was a large attendance, many his own children in the faith, his own hymn, "Thou hast stood here, Lord Jesus," being sung at the grave. His name is fragrant to many to-day, and through his hymns, "He, being dead, yet speaketh.”

S. J. D.

Preface to the First Edition

AT the request of many dear children of God, who have been refreshed and edified by the perusal of my Hymns and Poems, and who thought that they would be acceptable, and for the edification of others, if more generally known, I have gladly consented to collect and publish them in this little volume; trusting that they may be acceptable to the saints, and for the glory of God, in helping them in "psalms and hymns, and spiritual songs, to make melody in their hearts to the Lord.”

It will be evident that I have sought rather to render the Hymns scriptural and true in their tone and character, than to please the natural ear and taste, by an attempt at poetic composition.

Commending this little Service of Song to the Lord's blessing, and to the acceptance of the saints,

Your brother and fellow-servant,

JAMES G. DECK.

Editors Note to the Second Edition

SINCE the first edition of this volume was published, in 1876, in Melbourne, Australia, the Lord has called away to Himself the beloved Author of these Hymns.

The present edition is a reproduction of the former one, except that a more careful punctuation has been introduced.

A few verbal errors have also been corrected, and two or three slight changes, indicated in footnotes, have been admitted, for the sake of clearness, or more entire conformity to Scripture.

The Editors desire to add their testimony to the edification received by them in going over this collection of Hymns, and venture to express their confidence that the Lord will graciously use it for the blessing and comfort of those of His saints who may read them.

T. & H. M., and W. L.

LONDON, Hardt, /SSO.

How Long, O Lord?

“While the bridegroom tarried, they all slumbered and slept. And at midnight there was a cry made, Behold, the bridegroom cometh; go ye out to meet him."-Matt. 25:5, 6.

How long, O Lord, our Savior,

Wilt Thou remain away?

The careless world is mocking

At Thy so long delay.

Oh, when shall come the moment,

When, brighter far than morn,

The sunshine of Thy glory

Shall on Thy people dawn?

How long, O gracious Master,

Wilt Thou Thy household leave?

So long Thou now hast tarried,

Few Thy return believe:

Immersed in sloth and folly,

Thy servants, Lord, we see;

And few of us stand ready

With joy to welcome Thee.

How long, O Heav'nly Bridegroom!

How long wilt Thou delay?

And yet how few are grieving

That Thou dost absent stay:

Thy very Bride her portion

And calling hath forgot,

And seeks for ease and glory

Where Thou, her Lord, art not.

Oh, wake the slumb'ring virgins,

To heed the solemn cry;

Let all Thy saints repeat it-

“The Bridegroom draweth nigh!”

May all our lamps be burning,

Our loins well girded be;

Each longing heart preparing

With joy Thy face to see.

Aspirations

O LORD, my heart aspires

To walk with Thee;

The first of its desires

Thy face to see:

By day, by night,

Its one delight,

To have Thee near to me.

But, Lord, when I retrace,

At close of day,

How far I've seen Thy face,-

Or gone astray;

I mourn, I sigh,

When I descry

How little I obey.

O Lord, supply Thy grace;

Teach me to set

Thyself before my face,

And ne'er forget

That Thou art mine,

And I am Thine,

Whose blood has paid my debt.

For the Lord's Day

LORD of Life, Thy day rejoices

All who know Thee strong to save;

Glad we tune our hearts and voices

On Thy birthday from the grave:

Thou art risen!

From death's dark and gloomy wave.

Lord of Life, we here assemble

On this first and best of days;

While Thy foes may fear and tremble,

Our glad hearts are full of praise.

Thou art risen 1

We our songs of triumph raise.

Lord of Life, Thy travail's ended,

Finished is that work of love;

First-born of the dead, ascended

To the throne of God above:

At Thy glory

All our hearts in rapture move.

Lord of Life, Thou lov'st to meet us

Gathered in Thy precious name;

At Thy table Thou dost greet us,

Two or three THYSELF may claim:

THOU ART WITH US!

JESUS, EVERY DAY THE SAME.

The Lord's Supper

“The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not the communion of the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not the communion of the body of Christ'? For we, being many, are one bread, and one body: for we are all partakers of that one bread."-1 Cor. 10:16, 17.

LORD, we would ne'er forget Thy love,

Who hast redeemed us by Thy blood;

And now, as our High Priest above,

Dost intercede for us with God.

Lord, we would ne'er forget the pain,

The bloody sweat, the shameful tree,

The wrath Thy soul did once sustain,

From sin and death to set us free:

But mindful we are strangers here,

Seeking a heavenly rest and home;

And waiting till our Lord appear,

Our hearts would cry, "Come, Savior, come!”

We would remember we are one

With every saint that loves Thy name;

United to Thee on the throne-

Our life, our hope, our Lord, the same.

Here, in the broken bread and wine,

We hear Thee say, "Remember Me!”

I gave My life to ransom thine;

“I bore the wrath to set thee free.”

Lord, we are Thine-we praise Thy love-

One with Thy saints, all one in Thee;

We would, until we meet above,

In all our ways, remember Thee.

Praise to Jesus

JESUS, our life, is risen-

JESUS, who died to save:

Burst are thy gates, O prison!

Thy vict'ry spoiled, O grave!

He who in grace descended,

Constrained by love to die,

Triumphant has ascended

To God's right hand on high.

He, for the joy before Him,

Endured the cross and shame,

Therefore our souls adore Him,

And magnify His name:

JESUS, O name all glorious!

He bore it on the tree;

JESUS, O name victorious

He bears it still for me.

JESUS, the sinner's Savior,

JESUS, the saved one's friend,

JESUS, whose mighty favor

Shall keep us to the end:

JESUS, High Priest in heaven,

He bears us on His heart;

By God to JESUS given,-

Who us from Him shall part?

JESUS, our faithful shepherd,

He watches o'er His sheep;

From lion, and from leopard,

His own He safe will keep:

How tenderly He careth!

How well He knows our names,

And in His bosom beareth

The weakest of His lambs!

We hear the Bridegroom telling,

“Behold, I quickly come!”

O joy! all thought excelling,

He '11 take us to His home!

To see His face all-glorious,

To hear His long-loved voice:

By Him o'er all victorious,

Oh, how should we rejoice!

All praise to Thee, our Savior!

We glory in Thy name; Our boast is in Thy favor,

Our songs Thy worth proclaim:

E'en in this vale of sorrow, We '11 sing, as on we roam;

But, oh, the glad to-morrow! We'll be with Thee at home!

Boasting in the Lord

“My soul shall make her boast in the LORD." Ps. 34: 2.

O LORD, in nothing would I boast,

Save in Thy glorious name;

Though in myself I'm vile and lost,

In Thee all fair I am.

I folly am-Thou "Wisdom" art;

I'm sinThou, "Righteousness;”

Polluted is this worthless heart,

But Thou art "Holiness.”

Of sin and Satan once the slave,

My chains were burst by Thee;

In Thee I full "redemption" have,

For Thou hast set me free.

I '11 glory, only in Thy name,

O'er sin, and death, and hell;

I'll own my guilt, confess my shame,

But Thy salvation tell.

And when I stand before the throne,

And in Thy glory shine,

Still in Thy name I'll boast alone,

For all the praise is Thine.

Chastening

“Furthermore, we have had fathers of our flesh which corrected us, and we gave them reverence: shall we not much rather be in subjection unto the Father of spirits, and live? For they verily for a few days chastened us after their own pleasure; but He for our profit, that we might be partakers of His holiness."-Heb. 12:9, 10.

IT is Thy hand, my God!

My sorrow comes from Thee:

I bow beneath Thy chast'ning rod;

'Tis love that bruises me.

I would not murmur, Lord;

Before Thee I am dumb;

Lest I should breathe one murmuring word,

To Thee for help I come.

My God-Thy name is love,

A Father's hand is Thine;

With tearful eyes I look above,

And cry, "Thy will be mine!”

I know Thy will is right,

Though it may seem severe;

Thy path is still unsullied light,

Though dark it oft appear.

Jesus for me hath died;

Thy Son Thou didst not spare:

His pierced hands, His bleeding side,

Thy love for me declare.

Here my poor heart can rest;

My God, it cleaves to Thee:

Thy will is love, Thine end is blest;

All work for good to me.

The Attractions of Christ

WHEN first I heard of Jesus' name,

I then for refuge only came;

I heard that He for sinners died,

And from His heart and wounded side

Had shed the water and the blood,

To wash and make me fit for God.

I've found Him meet my every need,

That He a Savior is indeed;

Each rising want has been supplied,

Whene'er to Him I have applied;

He is of grace the treasury,

All fullness dwells in Him for me.

Since then, I have such glories viewed

In Him, who has my surety stood;

Such beauties, human and divine,

In all His words and actions shine;

That now I sing with rapturous heart,

“Thou altogether lovely art.”

Yet all He is, He is for me,

So meek in all His majesty;

So tender in almightiness;

So sympathizing in distress;

So liberal,-all He has He gave;

Yea, e'en Himself, my soul to save.

It is not fear that makes me flee,

Savior of sinners, now to Thee;

Thy excellences me constrain

To seek Thee as my greatest gain-

Thy presence my eternal home:

Come, blessed Lord, oh, quickly come!

Abide in Me: John 15:4

CHRISTIAN, wouldst thou fruitful be?

Jesus says, "Abide in Me;”

From Him all thy fruit is found,-

May it to God's praise abound.

Christian, wouldst thou happy be?

Jesus says, "Abide in Me;" He is thine exceeding joy,

Bliss divine without alloy.

Christian, wouldst thou holy be?

Jesus says, "Abide in Me;”

Sanctified in Him thou art,-

Sanctify Him in thy heart.

Christian, this thy motto be,

Jesus says, "Abide in Me;”

Grace and strength from Him receive,

As a branch in Jesus live.

Soon shalt thou thy Master see,

Hear Him say, " Abide with Me,

In My Father's house above,

In the bosom of His love.”

Rejoicing in Hope: Romans 12:12

O LORD! 'tis but a little while,

The desert will be o'er;

And I shall see Thy heavenly smile,

And never lose it more.

It makes my heart with rapture beat,

The thought of that bright day,

When I shall worship at Thy feet,

And bask beneath Thy ray.

It cheers this weary, tempted breast,

Midst all its anxious strife;

The blessed hope of God's own rest,

The crown of endless life

My faith anticipates the day,

When sin and Satan's power

Forever shall be swept away,

And death shall be no more.

But, oh, the thought of seeing Thee,

In all Thy glorious light,

Who groaned, and bled, and died for me,

In love's mysterious might!

Thy blood has washed me from my sin,

Thy righteousness my dress;

Thine arm has led, by power unseen

Of mercy, truth, and grace.

O Lord, Thou hast prepared a crown

Of glory bright for me;

At Thy dear feet I'll cast it down,

And give all praise to Thee!

A Stone of Memorial

“And thou shalt remember all the way which the LORD thy God led thee these forty years."-Deut. 8:2.

LORD, I remember the day that I came,

All wearied and wounded to Thee;

My heart was bowed down with its sin and its shame;

But Thou spakest so kindly to me:

Oh, I ne'er shall forget Thy sweet accents of love,

Nor the mercy that beamed in Thy face,

When Thy pitiful-kindness my load did remove,

And assured me of welcome and grace.

Lord, I remember the peace that I felt

When my pardon I read in Thy blood;

How my heart with the sweetest contrition did melt

In the arms of Thy Father, my God:

All the darkness was gone, all my terrors were o'er

As I saw all His glory in Thee;

And He promised my sins He'd remember no more,

But my God and my Father would be.

Lord, I 'd remember, each day that I live,

The love that has made me Thine own;

To Thee, with myself, all I have would I give,

And live for Thy glory alone:

I 'd remember, each step of my journey below,

Thou didst die for my sins on the tree;

But how can I ever express all I owe,

My Lord and my Savior, to Thee?

Liberty of Access - Worship

FATHER, to seek Thy face

Thy children now draw near;

Before Thy throne of grace

With boldness we appear:

We plead His name, His precious blood,

Who made us priests and kings to God.

No more we shun the light,

No more Thy presence fear;

In robes of spotless white

Before Thee we appear:

Our sacrifice and priest is there

To offer up our praise and prayer.

No power have we to praise

Thy name, O God of love,

Unless Thy Spirit raise

Our hearts and minds above;

His holy oil anoints our head:

May He our priestly worship lead.

Thy promises we plead,

Thy true and steadfast word;

In every time of need

Thou wilt Thy help afford:

Thy promises in Christ are yea;

To Thy amen, "Amen," we say.

Doxology

HOLY, holy, holy Lord;

Hallelujah! Amen!

Ever be Thy name adored,

Hallelujah! Amen!

All creation's works proclaim,

Thee, the ever-great I AM;

Jah-Jehovah is Thy name,

Hallelujah! Amen!

Abba, Father, God of love,

Hallelujah! Amen!

JESUS, name all names above;

Hallelujah! Amen!

Abba, Thou didst Jesus give;

Jesus died that we might live;

Our united praise receive:

Hallelujah! Amen!

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,

Hallelujah! Amen!

Praise Him, all ye heavenly host,

Hallelujah! Amen!

Saints, awake each golden string;

Loudest anthems let us sing,

While the vaults of heaven ring,

Hallelujah! Amen!

Looking Unto Jesus

“They looked unto Him, and were lightened."
PSALM 34:2

WHEN along life's thorny road,

Faints the soul beneath its load-

By its cares and sins opprest

Finds on earth no peace or rest;

When the wily tempter 's near,

Filling us with doubts and fear:

Jesus-to Thy feet we flee,

Jesus-we will look to Thee.

Thou, our Savior, from the throne,

List'nest to Thy people's groan;

Thou, the living Head, dost share,

Ev'ry pang Thy members bear:

Full of tenderness Thou art,

Thou wilt heal the broken heart;

Full of power, Thine arm shall quell

All the rage and might of hell:

Thou, O Jesus, Thou hast borne

Satan's rage, the worldling's scorn:

Thou hast known the bitter hour

Of the wily tempter's power;

Lo! Thy bloody sweat we see,

In the dark Gethsemane:

Hark that piercing, awful cry,

From the mount of Calvary!

By that love which brought Thee down

From Thy high eternal throne;

Veiled the Lord of earth and skies,

In an infant's lowly guise:

By that love that healed the maim,

Cured the sick, restored the lame,

Bade the darkened eye to see-

Jesus, we will look to Thee.

By Thy tears o'er Laz'rus shed,

By Thy power to raise the dead,

By Thy meekness under scorn,

By Thy stripes and crown of thorn,

By that rich and precious blood,

That hath made our peace with God-

Jesus, to Thy feet we flee;

Jesus, we will cling to Thee.

Mighty to redeem and save,

Thou hast overcome the grave;

Thou the bars of death hast riven,

Opened wide the gates of heaven:

Soon in glory Thou shalt come,

Thy poor pilgrims to take home:.Jesus, then we all shall be,

Ever-ever-Lord with Thee.

Heaven

THERE is a place of endless joy

Prepared for saints above;

Of peace and bliss without alloy,

A home of perfect love.

It was for this that Jesus died,

That we with Him might there abide:

It was for this He suffered pain,

That all His saints with Him might reign.

How bright, how holy is the place,

Unfading, undefiled,

Where God unveils His gracious face

On every blood-bought -child I

They round the throne triumphant stand,

A golden harp in every hand,

To which they sing the ceaseless strain,

“Worthy the Lamb for sinners slain 1”

Oh, wondrous grace! Oh, love divine, To give us such a home!

Let us the present things resign,

And seek this rest to come;

And, gazing on our Savior's cross,

Esteem all else but worthless dross;

Press forward, till the race be run;

Fight, till the crown of life be won

It Is Well: 2 Kings 4:26

“Say ye to the righteous, that it shall be well with him." ISAIAH 3: 10

LORD, Thou hast said it, Thy Word standeth sure,

“Say, it is well, it is well!”

“Yea and amen," it shall ever endure,

Yes, it is well, it is well!

Well, when the sunshine beams bright o'er my head;

Well, when the light and the sunshine are fled;

Well, when the future looks shrouded in dread;

Still it is well! it is well!

Lord, when I gaze on the face of Thy Son,

Then all is well, all is well!

Viewing with rapture the work He has done,

Then all is well, all is well!

When I am learning the God that Thou art,

When I am tasting Thy grace in my heart,

Thy loving-kindness, which ne'er shall depart,

All, all is well, all is well!

When I am searching the Word at Thy feet,

Lord, it is well, it is well!

Purer than gold, yea, than honey more sweet,

Lord, it is well, it is well!

When all Thy riches of mercy I trace,

Seeing Thy glory in Jesus's face,

And I am learning Thy counsels of grace,

Lord, it is well, it is well!

Lord, when I’m bending before mercy's throne,

Then it is well, it is well!

Pleading His blood, and His merits alone,

Lord, it is well, it is well!

When I 'm confessing each failure and stain,

Learning Thy mercy again and again,

How grace abounding rejoices to reign,

Lord, it is well, it is well!

Lord, shouldst Thou call me from life to depart,

All would be well, would be well!

My happy spirit would be where Thou art:

All would be well, would be well!

But when Thy ransomed to meet Thee arise,

When Thy bright glories burst forth on our eyes,

How loud the chorus shall swell through the skies I

LORD, ALL IS WELL, ALL IS WELL!

The Blood of Sprinkling

LEV. 16:14; HEB. 12: 24.

WHEN first to Jesus' cross I came,

My heart o'erwhelmed with sin and shame,

Conscious of guilt, and full of fear,

Yet, drawn by love, I ventured near;

And pardon found, and peace with God,

In Jesus' rich atoning blood.

My sin is gone, my fears are o'er;

I shun God's presence now no more:

With child-like faith I seek His face,

The God of all abounding grace:

Sprinkled before the throne of God,

I see that rich atoning blood.

Before my God my Priest appears-

My Advocate the Father hears;

That blood is e'er before His eyes,

And day and night for mercy cries;

It speaks, it ever speaks to God,

The voice of that atoning blood.

By faith that voice I also hear;

It answers doubt, it stills each fear:

Th’ accuser strives in vain to move

The wrath of Him whose name is love:

Each charge against th' elect of God

Is silenced by th' atoning blood.

Here I can rest without a fear;

By this to God I now draw near,

By this I triumph over sin,

For this has made and keeps me clean;

And when I reach the throne of God,

I STILL WILL SING THE ATONING BLOOD

The Communion of Saints

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!"-PSALM 133:1

O BRETHREN, scattered far and near,

Through every land, of every tongue;

To whom the name of Christ is dear,

Whose harps to sing His praise are strung;

While journeying to our Father's home,

“The new commandment" let us mind;

And till our Lord and Master come,

Let love our hearts in union bind.

Children of God, elect, beloved,

Who, with one spirit, "Abba" cry,-

Far from our midst be strife removed,

Let all but love within us die:

One-minded let us onward press,

One-hearted, worship, serve, and fight;

One army in the wilderness,

One household in the realms of light.

United in the Savior's name,

United in our living Head,

Our Lord, our Life, our Hope the same;

One cup we drink, we eat one bread:

We wait for that bright, glorious day,

When, all love's mighty mystery done,

The King of glory shall display,

That He and all His saints are one.

For Brethren Meeting

FIRST PART.

WE'RE on our journey, brethren, to Canaan's happy land,

With joy we meet each other, and grasp each friendly hand;

We. seek, with hearts united, our thankful songs to raise,

Our common theme of gladness, our great Redeemer's praise.

We're soldiers in His army, to bear His banner high;

We're strangers here and pilgrims, whose home is in the sky;

We're servants of one Master, all waiting His return:

May each with truth be girded, our lamps all brightly burn.

We meet as priests together, within the once rent vail,

We trust His gracious promise, whose name can never fail;

Our prayers on high we offer, as incense through His blood,

And wait for gracious answers from our prayer-hearing God.

As members of one body, united to one Head,

We sit around one table, and feed on heavenly bread;

One Rock for us was smitten, one Spirit in us dwells,

One name we bear, whose glory God's free salvation tells.

FOR BRETHREN PARTING.

SECOND PART

IN love we part, dear brethren, and till we see His face,

By faith commend each other to God our Father's grace

In Jesus He has treasured our every day's supplies,

We live upon His fullness, whatever wants arise.

Let us His great salvation to every soul proclaim,

The heralds of His mercy, speak well of Jesu's name;

Let 's labor in His vineyard, until our Master come,

And occupy our talents till He shall call us home.

Cheer up, dear fellow-pilgrims, the journey 'll soon be done;

Press on, beloved companions, the race will soon be won;

Fight on, dear fellow-soldiers, in our great Captain's might;

Hope on, for soon the morning will chase the shades of night.

Our souls are not divided, although our bodies part,

Oceans may roll between us, we still are one in heart;

His Spirit dwells within us, the First-born from the dead,

Who can the members sever united to their Head?

The Advent

“Even so, come, Lord Jesus."-Rev 22:20

Savior, hasten Thine appearing;

*Take Thy waiting people home:

'T is this hope our spirits cheering

While we in the desert roam,

Makes Thy people

Strangers here till Thou dost come.

Lord, how long shall the creation

Groan and travail sore in pain:

Waiting for its restoration,

When Thou shalt in glory reign;

And, like Eden,

This sad earth shall bloom again?

Gather, too, Thy chosen nation,

Israel's long afflicted race;

Let them find Thy free salvation,

Own and trust Thy wondrous grace;

And, adoring,

Look on Thy once marred face.

Reign, oh, reign, Almighty Savior!

Heaven and earth in one unite;

Make it known, that in Thy favor,

There alone is life and light:

We shall see Thee,

Lost in wonder and delight.

Holy, Holy, Holy Lord

“... Come boldly unto the throne of grace."-HEB. iv. 16

HOLY, holy, holy Lord!

The Seraphim before Thee bow

With veiled face; with one accord

The hosts of heaven Thy praise avow;

All hearts and tongues, and voices, cry,

“Glory to Thee, O God, most High!”

Before and sprinkled on Thy throne,

The precious blood of Jesus cries;

Th' atoning work for sin is done,

Accepted is His sacrifice:

Purged by that blood from ev'ry stain,

I come, where grace delights to reign.

Grace sent the Holy One to die,

Grace bruised the Lamb to set me free;

To bring the lost and guilty nigh,

Grace bled, and died, and rose for me:

Grace to the throne invites me near,

And bids me come without a fear.

The Lord Is Risen Indeed

LUKE 24: 34.

“THE LORD IS RISEN!"-Oh, what joy

These blessed tidings give!

He died death's empire to destroy;

He lives,-we therefore live.

“THE LORD IS RISEN"-death and sin

And hell all conquered are;

He's gone the holiest within,

Our mansions to prepare.

The Lord Is Risen: See Him Sit

Upon the Father's throne:

All worship at His pierced feet,

And LORD our Jesus own.

“THE LORD IS RISEN:"-risen, too,

With Him from sin and death,

Let us the heavenly things pursue,

And die to all beneath.

Our place is with Him on the throne,

There with the Lord we love;

As strangers here, ourselves we own,

Our hearts, our home, above.

Jesus in the Midst

“Where two or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of them.”

-MATT. 18: 20.

JESUS, a few of Thine

Are gathered in Thy name:

Lift up Thy face, and on us shine,

For we Thy promise claim.

Are we not, Lord, Thine own,

The purchase of Thy blood?

By Thee we would approach His throne,

Our Father and our God.

In us the Spirit dwells,

The witness of Thy love;

Our hearts rejoice, while He reveals

The glorious things above.

Our Comforter and Guide,

While Thou art gone away,
May He among us now preside,

Help us to praise and pray.

Jesus, Thyself reveal,

Each cloud and veil remove;

Cause all our waiting hearts to feel

The kindlings of Thy love!

Behold, He Comes!

I come quickly."-REVELATION 22: 12.

HE comes! Emmanuel comes!

Jesus, the crucified:

The Man of Sorrows He,

Who bowed His head, and died;

Who loved and washed us in His blood,

He comes to take us home to God.

He comes! Our Shepherd comes,

Whose eyelids never sleep,

To gather in the skies

The thousands of His sheep:

Where the eternal fountains spring

Of life divine, His flock He’ll bring.

He comes! the Advocate,

Who bears us on His breast,

To take our wearied souls

To His eternal rest:

Oh, let this hope dispel each fear,

Our great High Priest shall soon appear.

He comes! The King of kings!

His sword is on His thigh;

Crowned with His many crowns

Of highest majesty:

Clothed with a vesture dipped in blood,

His mighty name, "THE WORD OF GOD.”

He comes! the Heir of all,

Now all shall own His sway;

The Bridegroom with His Bride

His glories shall display:

But oh, His love! what tongue can tell?

Eternal! vast! unsearchable!

“Behold, I quickly come.”

Responsive to Thy word, The Spirit and the Bride

Cry, "E'en so, come, O Lord!”

Naught else can satisfy her heart,

But to be with Thee where Thou art!

Waiting for the Master

“Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning; and ye yourselves like unto men that wait for their lord, when he will return from the wedding; that when he cometh and knocketh, they may open unto him immediately."-Luke x12: 35, 36.

SOON shall our Master come,

Our toil and sorrow cease;

He‘ll call His waiting servants home,

To endless joy and peace.

Now may we do His will,

In all His footsteps tread;

And, in a world of evil, still

To grieve Him only dread.

May we His name confess

'Midst suffering, shame, and loss;

Stand forth His faithful witnesses,

And glory in the Cross.

Watchful may each be found,

Our loins well girded be;

In works of faith and love abound,

Till we our Master see.

Then shall we soar above,

Nor cease our sweet employ;

And hear Him say, with tender love,

"Enter Thy Master's joy.”

Waking the Slumberers

ADVENT HYMN.

WAKE, ye saints, from sleep awake,

Now your lamps all burning take;

Hark, the loud, the midnight cry,

Christ, your Lord, is nigh!

Long and drear has been the night,

Lo! the morning-star shines bright;

Soon the long-expected day

Will its power display.

Strangers in this world of woe,

Dead to every hope below,

Let us wait till Christ shall come

To receive us home:

Gird your loins, all ready be!

Shout with joy your Lord to see:

Lo! the Lamb for us was slain,

We with Him shall reign.

“Come, Lord Jesus, come!" we cry,

“Come!" Creation's groans reply,-

Chase the gloomy night away,

Bring the cloudless day;

Thou hast washed us in Thy blood,

Made us kings and priests to God:
Come and claim Thy ransomed Bride:

Thou for her hast died!

Sun of Righteousness, arise!

Let Thy glory fill the skies,

Let the earth Thy brightness see,

Set creation free;

Sit on Thine exalted throne,

Take the kingdoms for Thine own:

Worthy is the Lamb once slain,

Worthy Thou to reign.

Forever With the Lord

This earth is but a wilderness

Of toil, and pain, and sorrow;

But Christ is near our souls to bless,

And lightens all our sore distress,

By pointing to the morrow,-

The bright, eternal morrow,

When we shall be,

O Lord, with Thee,

Blest end of all our sorrow.

With swelling hearts, and longing eyes,

We heed the watchman's warning:

His midnight cry, "The Bridegroom 's nigh!

And watch to see appear on high,

The bright Star of the morning,-

The fair, unclouded morning,

When we shall be,

O Lord, with Thee:

We long to see its dawning.

“Behold, I come! I quickly come!”

We hear the Bridegroom telling;

“My Bride no more on earth shall roam;

“I come to take her to My home,

“My own celestial dwelling:"-

Thy own celestial dwelling,

Where we shall be,

O Lord, with Thee,

Thy praise forever swelling.

A Harp of Gold

IN the Book of Life enrolled,

Hallelujah! Amen!

I shall have a harp of gold,

Hallelujah! Amen!

'I shall stand before the throne,

When my conflicts here are done,

And the prize of life is won,

Hallelujah! Amen!

I shall stand before the Lamb,

Hallelujah! Amen!

I shall praise His glorious name,

Hallelujah! Amen! Jesus, who was slain for me,

Jesus' love, so vast, so free,

My eternal song shall be,

Hallelujah! Amen!

When I wear my golden crown,

Hallelujah! Amen!

At Thy feet I’ll cast it down,

Hallelujah! Amen

At His wounded feet to fall,

Him my Lord, my Life, to call:-

This the sweetest joy of all,-

Hallelujah Amen!

Abba, Father

GAL. 4: 6.

OH, our God, how full of blessing

Are the names Thou lov'st to bear

Oh, how rich, Thyself possessing,

All Thy happy children are!

First, and chiefest, and the nearest,

“Father of our Lord" Thou art;

In this name, to Him the dearest,

We with Him by grace have part!

“Abba, Father!" in the garden

With strong tears we hear Him cry:

His,,the death that bought our pardon;

His, the soul's deep agony.

“Abba, Father!" ere ascending

To the glorious throne above,

Was the word we hear Him sending

To the children of Thy love.

Now with cloudless peace abounding,

We with rapture search Thy word,
All Thy names, this name surrounding,

“I ascend unto My Father, and your Father; and to My God, and your God."-JOHN 20: 17.

Deeper, richer joys afford.

Jesus, Our Lord

“That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is
Lord, to the glory of God the Father."-Phil. 2: 10,11.

O GOD, we hail Thy high decree,

That every knee should lowly bow

To Him, once slain on Calvary,

A crown of thorns upon His brow;

“Obedient unto death," He died,

Who sits exalted at Thy side.;

O Jesus! all-exalted name!

While all the hosts of heaven rejoice

Thy matchless virtues to proclaim,

Shall not Thy ransomed lift their voice,

And swell the loud triumphant strain,

“Worthy the Lamb as Lord to reign!”

It was the sight of that dear tree,

E'en more attractive than Thy throne,

That drew our wand'ring hearts to Thee,

And won them for Thyself alone:

Thy death, by Love's almighty chains,

To live to Thee our heart constrains.

Poor, weak, encompassed by the foe

Whose wiles on every side assail,-

While darkness broods o'er all below,

How would our trembling spirit quail,

Could we not look the clouds above,

And see on high the Lord we love!

Oh, give us stronger, livelier faith,

That we may more in Thee abide,

Nor fear the powers of hell and death;

So fully by Thy grace supplied,

So sure of help and strength from Thee

Each battle-field a victory.

For Prayer-Meetings

AGAIN we meet in Jesus' name,

Again His promised blessing claim:

Father, Thy children seek Thy face;

Oh, let Thy presence fill this place!

Thy Spirit's power and grace supply;

On Thee alone our souls rely:

So shall our prayers and praises rise

As clouds of incense to the skies.

Our God, our Father, wisdom give,

That we may to Thy glory live,

Walk as the children of the day,

And all the light of life display.

Soon we shall meet on earth no more,

Our service and our conflicts o'er;

Soon shall we meet in heaven above,

And still adore and bless Thy love.

That Great, That Awful Day

“The removing of those things that are shaken." HEBREWS 12: 27.

THAT great, that awful day shall come,

When heaven and earth shall flee;

But, oh! this earth is not my home,

No place of rest for me!

But, in the Father's house above,

My mansion is prepared;

There is the home, the rest I love,

And there my bright reward.

That day shall come,-the earth shall quake,

The stars from heaven shall fall:

But while the wicked fear and quake,

And to the mountains call;

With Jesus, robed in spotless white,

In glory I shall shine;

His blessed presence my delight,

His love and glory mine.

THE BELIEVER'S HOME.

JOHN 14: 2.

My Home! 't is not here in a region of death,

Which sin has defiled with its poisonous breath;

Where Christ was rejected; where man is oppressed:

In a world full of groaning I seek not my rest.

You show me its palaces, stately and fair,-

The brows of their inmates are furrowed with care;

Its wisdom is folly, and madness its mirth,

The shadows of death all envelop the earth.

I gaze on the mountain, the forest, and flood,-

They speak of their Maker, my Father, and God;

His sunshine enlivens the day with its light,

His moon and His stars give a voice to the night;

His hand paints each flower with its beautiful dye;

His providence watches the sparrows that fly:

I hear Him., and see Him, wherever I roam;

This earth is His work, but it is not my Home.

My home is in heaven, for Jesus is there;

He is gone His own home for His friends to prepare;

In the land which no evil has ever defiled,

Where each tear shall be wiped from the eye of

His child.

My home is in heaven! yes, there we shall meet;

What joy it will be our companions to greet,

With whom thro' this desert we journeyed along,

When the sigh shall be changed for the harp and the song!

CHRISTIAN HAPPINESS.

“My mouth shall praise Thee with joyful lips.”

PSALM 63:5.

O Goy of my salvation, with grateful heart I raise

A song of loud thanksgiving to Thy eternal praise;

I fain would make the heavens, and earth's remotest bound,

To Thy most worthy honor with loftiest songs resound.

I fain would make all creatures partakers of my joy,

And bid all tongues in concert their sweetest notes employ

To chant Thy lovingkindness, Thy holy name to bless;

For oh, Thou art the living Fount of life and happiness.

I 'm happy when I'm listening to Thy life-giving Word,

There learning all the glories of Christ, my heavenly Lord;

I 'm happy while I'm sitting, like Mary, at His feet,-

His words than gold more precious, than honey far more sweet.

I 'm happy while in secret I bend before Thy throne,

And to Thee, as my Father, make all my wishes known,

While with a child's sweet freedom, without reserve or fear,

My heart before Thee opens, assured Thy grace will hear.

I'm happy-yes, though weeping, down in my inmost heart,-

E'en when Thy rod's sharp chast'ning afflicts me with its smart,

And tempests gather round me, and heaviest woes befall:

I know my Father loves me, and love appoints it all.

SECOND PART.

I'm happy on the morning of that all-glorious day,

When from the tomb of Jesus the stone was rolled away;

And Thou didst in Thy glory awake Him from the dead,

The first-born of Thy children, His Church's risen Head.

I 'm happy when I see Him enthroned at Thy right hand,

The 'hosts of heaven adoring, and waiting His command;

I 'm happy when rememb'ring how my High Priest above

My name is ever bearing on His great heart of love.

I 'm happy when I'm sitting around the sacred board

With those who love to cherish the mem'ry of their Lord;

The bread and cup partaking, the emblems of His love,-

The feast below sweet foretaste of happier feasts above.

I 'm happy too when seeking the wretched and the lost,

Proclaiming that salvation, which Him His lifeblood cost;

I 'm happy when beholding the weary ones repair

To Him, who sin's great burden in love came down to bear.

I'm happy, oh, how happy! for Thou my FATHER art;

Jesus, my Lord, He loves me, e'en with a brother's heart;

The Holy Spirit loves me, my Comforter and Guide:

Oh, should I not be happy? what can I be beside

Oh Happy Day!

OH happy day 1 when first we felt

Our souls with sweet contrition melt,

And saw our sins, of crimson guilt,

All cleansed by blood on Calv'ry spilled.

Oh happy day! when first Thy love

Began our grateful hearts to move;

And, gazing on Thy wondrous cross,

We saw all else as worthless dross.

Oh happy day! when we no more

Shall grieve Thee, whom our souls adore;

When sorrows, conflicts, fears, shall cease,

And all our trials end in peace.

Oh happy day! when we shall see

And fix our longing eyes on Thee-

On Thee, our Light, our Life, our Love,

Our All below, our Heaven above.

Oh, happy day of cloudless light! Eternal day without a night!

Lord, when shall we its dawning see, And spend it all in praising Thee?

Come, Savior, come; oh, quickly come!

Take us, Thy waiting people, home;

We long to stand around Thy throne,

And know Thee as ourselves are known.

The Time Is Short: 1 Corinthians 7:29

“THE time is short!" If thou art not prepared

To hear thy summons from this earth away,

Awake, arouse thee from thy deadly sleep;

This is no time for dreaming or delay:

Haste to the Refuge. Look not back. The door

Stands open now. To-morrow, all may then be o'er!

Art thou prepared? Thy garments, are they white,

Washed in the blood that flowed from Jesus' veins?

Oh, sleep not, ransomed one; for soon the night

Will end: how short the time for work remains!

Gird up thy loins; faithful and earnest be;

And live alone for Him, who lived and died for thee.

Heart Breathings

JESUS, I come to Thee;

Thy lips the welcome spoke,

“Come, weary one, to Me,

And take My easy yoke:”

Lord, I have come, and in Thee find

Rest for my weary heart and mind.

Jesus, I look to Thee,

The holy, spotless Lamb,

Uplifted on the tree,

Bearing my sin, and shame:

Thou for my sake Thyself hast given;

My sins, through Thee, are all forgiven.

Jesus, I trust in Thee;

I know Thy word is sure;

Promise and oath agree

To make my soul secure:

Through life and death, through storm and wave,

Assured I am that Thou wilt save.

Jesus, I boast in Thee,

Before whom angels fall;

For Thou art made to me,

My glory, yea, my all:

Wisdom, and righteousness divine,

In Thee I have,-for Thou art mine.

Jesus, I call on Thee

In ev'ry hour of woe;

Thine eyes still watch o'er me

While wand'ring here below:

My feeblest cry does reach Thine ear,

As strong to help as swift to hear.

Jesus, I hope in Thee;

Soon will the Bridegroom come:

Thy face I long to see

In Thy eternal Home:-

Sweet hope, O Lord, to spend with Thee

The ages of eternity!

My Beloved

“What is thy Beloved more than another beloved?”

Sol. 5:9.

Oh, what is thy Beloved?

They oft inquire of me;

And what in my Beloved

So passing 'fair I see?

Is it the heavenly splendor

In which He shines above?

His riches, and dominions,

That won my heart's best love?

Oh no! 't is not His glories;

He 's worthy of them all!

'T is not the throne and scepter

Before which angels fall!

I view with heart exulting

Each crown His head adorns;

But, oh, He looks most lovely,

Wearing His crown of thorns.

I 'm glad to see His raiment

Than snow more spotless white,

Refulgent with its brightness,

More dazzling than the light;

But more surpassing lovely

His form appears to me,

When, stripped, and scourged, and bleeding,

He hung upon the tree

With warmest adoration

I see Him on the throne,

And join the loud hosannas

That His high virtues own;

But, oh, most blessed Jesus,

I must confess to Thee,

More than the throne of glory

I love that sacred tree.

I joy to see the diadems

Upon Thy royal brow;

The state, and power, and majesty

In which Thou sittest now:

But 't is Thyself, Lord Jesus,

Makes heaven seem heaven to me,-

Thyself, as first I knew Thee,

Uplifted on the tree.

Though higher than the highest,

Most mighty King Thou art,

Thy grace, and not Thy greatness,

First touched my rebel heart:

Thy sword, it might have slain me,

Thine arrows drunk my blood;

But 't was Thy cross subdued me,

And won my heart to God.

Thy scepter rules creation,

Thy wounded hand rules me;

All bow before thy footstool,

I but the nail-prints see:

Aloud they sound Thy titles,

Thou Lord of lords most high;

One thrilling thought absorbs me-

This Lord for ME did die!

Oh, this is my Beloved,

There's none so fair as He;

The chief among ten thousand,

He's all in all to me:

My heart it breaks with longing

To dwell with-Him above,

Who wooed me first, and won me

By His sweet dying love.

Cleaving to the Lord

LORD, when I wander from Thy side,

'T is darkness, sorrow, gloom;

For Thou art Life, and Light: beside

All else is but the tomb.

When near to Thee, the heavens are bright

With sunniest beams of love;

I taste the earnest of delight

Prepared for saints above.

Oh, give me, Lord, that cleaving heart

That near Thee must abide:

And let me feel the instant smart

Of wand'ring from Thy side.

Thy love the world has long o'ercome;

I thirst for it no more:

I wait, till Thou shalt take me home,

To see Thee and adore.

Shall I Distrust Thee?

O God, Thou art my God."-PSALM 63:1.

SHALL I distrust Thee, O my God?-

Whom can I trust but Thee?

I rest upon Thy faithful word,

I call Thee Savior, Father, Lord;

For Thou art God to me.

Creator, I, Thy creature, owe

All that I am to Thee:

Thy hands each day each gift bestow,

Provide for all my wants below;

For Thou art God to me.

Savior,-thrice blessed is that name!

Salvation is of Thee:

'T was from Thy bosom Jesus came,

To bear my sin, and curse, and shame;

For Thou art God to me.

Father, my Abba-God Thou art;

“Abba," I cry to Thee:

Among Thy children I have part,

I have the witness in my heart;

For Thou art God to me.

Help me to trust Thee, and to cleave

All my life long to Thee;

No more by doubts Thy Spirit grieve,

But Thine unchanging Word believe,

That Thou art God to me.

A Song of Thanksgiving

“Let us come before His presence with thanksgiving, and make a joyful noise unto Him with psalms.”

PSALM 95:2

LET us rejoice! for our Jesus is risen:

He robbed by His death even death of its sting;

He rolled back the stone from the grave's gloomy prison,-

His mighty achievements aloud let us sing.

The guilt of our sins on the cross He endured,

He spoiled all our foes of their terror and might;

His vict'ry our peace and salvation secured,

And then He ascended the regions of light.

Let us rejoice! He in glory is seated;

As man He now sits on the throne whence He came;

The work of redemption on earth He completed,

The heavens resound with His deeds and His

There all His goodness for us is providing

Stores for our need, as we journey along;

Hourly we find, while in Jesus abiding,

Strength for our weakness, and joys for our song.

Let us rejoice, for our Lord is preparing

His church for Himself, for His Father's abode;

Why should we fear, while our Shepherd is caring

For all that His ransomed can meet on their road?

Soon with a shout of glad triumph descending,

He will appear to conduct us above;

Radiant with glory, to meet Him ascending,

We’ll fill the wide heavens with songs of His love.

A Winter's Day

O LORD, it is a winter's sky,

And all below looks drear;

The north wind bloweth sharp and high,

No signs of Spring appear:

But I will tune my harp, and sing

Of Summer soon to come;

My soul in hope shall stretch her wing

To reach her sunny home.

The storm is rough, the rain falls fast,

But Thou my covert art;

While the fair sky is overcast,

I'll hide me in Thy heart:

My refuge, till I see Thy face,

Is 'neath Thy wings of love;

Thy wounded side the nestling-place

Of Thy poor timid dove.

Faith hath no cause to shed a tear,

Faith hath no cause to sigh:

Faith owns no warrant for a fear,

Or e'en a downcast eye:

No powers of earth or hell can mar

His work, or cross His will;

Whate'er the tempest, or the war,

Faith cries, "My soul, be still.”

Late! Too Late!

LATE! late! too late

Ye cannot enter in;

The door is shut-in vain ye wait;

The Bridegroom's gone within:

The hour of mercy now is o'er,

Judgment hath closed the open door,

Judgment from Him, whose grace before

Ye spurned from love of sin.

Late! late! too late!

Ye cannot enter now:

The music wakes within the gate,

The garland crowns the brow;

The heavenly strains that reach your ear,

Their very sweetness makes more drear,-

Filling your boding hearts with fear;

Ye cannot enter now!

Late! late! too late!

Why came ye not before?

Did He not long with patience wait,

And open keep the door?

Did He not many a message send?

Did He not woo you like a friend?

Why did you not His voice attend?

The day of grace is o'er

Late! late! too late!

Ye cannot enter now;

Barred, and forever, is the gate:

Mercy averts her brow.

His voice, who called you to repent,

Hath sworn,-and He will not relent;-

Your day of grace, alas! is spent:

Ye cannot enter now!

The Name of Jesus

OH, how we love Thy precious name,

JESUS, our risen Lord!

Nailed o'er Thy head in scorn and shame,

We glory in it, and proclaim

Its virtues all abroad.

JESUS! the lips of Gabriel glowed

When He to Mary came,

And to her wond'ring spirit showed

The grace that God on her bestowed,

And told her first-born's name.

JESUS! Thy name beams like the light

Of heaven's clear mid-day sun;

Makes every page of Scripture bright;

We read with ever fresh delight,

What Thou hast said, and done.

JESUS! Thy name 's the music sweet,

Of every song we raise;

The wine we drink, the food we eat,

All glories there harmonious meet:

JESUS, Thy name we praise.

The Lord's Supper

THE GUEST-CHAMBER.

“The same night in which He was betrayed." 1 Cor. 11: 23.

O LORD, by Thee invited,

We gather in Thy name;

Each willing guest delighted

Thy presence here to claim:

What were the brethren's greeting,

If Thou didst not us greet?

What were our largest meeting,

Did we without Thee meet?

That night of deepest sadness,

O Jesus, Thou didst prove

Thy heart could still find gladness

In pouring forth its love:

O depth of Thy compassion!

The night Thou wast betrayed,

The emblems of Thy passion

By Thee a feast were made.

We see Thee, Lord of heaven,

To make Thy chosen meet,

All clean, and all forgiven,

Stoop down to wash our feet:

This joy was set before Thee,

This armed. Thy suff'ring heart,

That we should share Thy glory,

And with Thee have our part!

The feast is Thine, O Savior;

The bread, the cup are Thine;

Thy name the precious savor

Of ointment all divine:

Thy body, Lord, was broken

That we might eat and live;

We drink the cup the token

That Thou Thy life did give.

O Lord we sing with gladness

Each time we gather here;

Shorter’s the night of sadness,

Thy coming hasteneth near;

We show Thy death confessing

We wait for Thee to come;

And safe beneath Thy blessing

We onward journey home!

Funeral Hymn

“Christ the first-fruits; afterward they that are Christ's at His coming."-1 Cor.15: 23.

JESUS, Thy name indeed is sweet,

In every scene, at every hour;

All that we need is there complete:

Love all divine, almighty power,

Yet full of tend'rest sympathy;

Our souls can rest themselves on Thee.

We weep,-but Thou hast also wept,

Thy tears o'erflowed at Lazarus' grave;

Such was Thy love to those bereft,

Such too Thy mighty power to save:

Thy voice the power of death o'erthrew,

And bade the dead his life renew.

Thou art the Resurrection, Lord;

Thy voice shall raise Thy saints that sleep;

One moment-one almighty word-

The harvest of the dead shall reap:

Our bodies raised by power divine,

Conformed, O Lord of Life, to Thine.

For this we wait. And now we sow,

In hope, this body in the dust;

Not with the world's despairing woe,

For in Thy word and name we trust:

With Him we’ll meet Thee in the sky,

And sing Thy love and victory.

Funeral Hymn

“I am the resurrection and the Iife."-John 11:25

THOU hast stood here, Lord Jesus,

Beside the still, cold grave,

And shown Thy gracious sympathy,

And mighty power to save:

Thy tears of tender pity,

Thine agonizing groan,

Tell how for us Thou feelest,

Though seated on the throne.

Thou hast lain here, Lord Jesus!

Thyself the victim then,-

The Lord of life and glory,

Once slain for wretched men.

From sin and condemnation,

When none but Thou couldst save,

Thy love than death was stronger,

And deeper than the grave.

Yes, Thou wast here, Lord Jesus!

But Thou art here no more;

The terror and the darkness,

The night of death are o'er:

Great Captain of Salvation,

Thy triumphs now we sing,

“O Grave, where is thy victory?”

“O Death, where is thy sting?”

We wait for Thine appearing,

We weep-but we rejoice;

In all our heart-felt sorrow,

We still can hear Thy voice,

“I am the Resurrection,

I live who once was slain;

Fear not; for this, thy brother,

Shall rise with Me to reign!”

“FEAR THOU NOT; FOR I AM WITH THEE.”

ISAIAH 41:10

“FEAR thou not!" Why should we fear,

While our faithful God is near?

Why should Israel be dismayed,

When our God, Himself, hath said,

“Fear thou not, for I am near!

Why should then My people fear?”

“Fear thou not, though thou art weak;

Why should terror blanch thy cheek?

I will strengthen thee to stand,

,And uphold thee by My hand.”

“Fear thou not," &c.

“All that hate thee, I '11 confound;

Seek them,-they shall not be found:

As the chaff before the gale,

All their craft and power shall fail.”

“Fear thou not," &c.

Oh, our God, we will not fear:

Though the night be dark and drear,

Though our foes are great and strong,

This shall be our cheerful song,

God has said that He is near,

Why then should His Israel fear?

Sunshine

No veil above, no storms around,-

Upward I look, and all is light:

Rivers of wine and milk abound,

And fill my heart with fresh delight.

“What shall I do my soul to save?”

Once was my anxious, dread demand,

When struggling with th' o'erwhelming wave,

Without a hope to reach the land.

But now my feet are on the Rock

Of God's unchanging, endless love;

I brave the rudest billow's shock,

For naught can His foundation move.

“What shall I do?" I still inquire;

“How can I please Thee now, my Lord?

Thy yoke of love can never tire:

Thine arm my strength, my guide Thy word.”

I sing the songs of Zion here,

Echoing on earth the strains above;

And wait until my Lord appear,

To satiate my soul with love.

Christ's Question to the Disciples

"Wll ye also go away?"-JOHN 6:67.

WHERE shall I go, my Lord, from Thee?

Where shall my weary heart remove?

How can I brave life's stormy sea,

Unless protected by Thy love?

When fierce temptations round me rise,

And clouds obscure the threat'ning skies,

Who else can bid the tempests cease,

And guide me to the port of peace?

Where could I go? No living streams

Can earth's drear wilderness supply:

Afar from Thee no heavenly beams

Of hope can reach my tear-dimmed eye;

Hungry, the Bread of Life I want,

Thirsty, for living waters pant;

Naked and blind, and poor, and weak,

Where else can I for succor seek?

Where shall I go, if not to Thee,

When death's dark, angry billows roll?

How can I hope for victory,

Unless Thy staff support my soul?

How can I e'er th' accuser meet,

Or venture near the mercy-seat,

Save by that precious blood alone,

Which did for all my sins atone?

But lest this frail, inconstant heart

Should e'er to others look or flee,

Oh, never, Lord, from me depart,

But draw, and keep me close to Thee:

Without Thee, what were earthly gain?

But with Thee, welcome loss and pain;

Thyself my shield and portion be,

Through time, and in eternity.

The Missionary's Hymn

“Go ye into all the world." "Lo, I am with you alway.”

MARK 16:15 MATT23:20

WHY should I weep, though none be near

Of all, who once were loved and dear?

Though now each star that lately shone,

By clouds obscured, is hid and gone?

Though friendless, from my earthly home

To other skies and climes I roam?

Why should I shed a bitter tear?

'T is Jesus calls, and God is here.

Why should I dread if storms arise

And darkness overspread the skies?

Though loud the awful tempest raves,

And fiercely swell the mountain waves?

The lightning's flash, the thunder's roll,

Should ne'er appall the Christian's soul:

My watchword in the hour of fear,

'T is Jesus calls, and God is here.

Why should I shrink from toil and pain,

From danger's path, or captive chain?

Though Afric's sun, with cloudless blaze

, Beat on me with its fiery rays;

And pale disease, with hurrying tread,

Step o'er the thousands of her dead

: Still the small, inward voice I hear,

'T is Jesus calls, and God is here.

Why should I faint, though they, for whom

I brave the sea, the storm, the tomb,

And burst each social tie to prove

The power of Christ's constraining love,

My counsels mock, my words neglect,

My Savior's grace and love reject?

Oh, even then this thought can cheer,

'T is Jesus calls, and God is here.

Why should I shrink, though not a friend

My life's departing hours attend;

None near to close my lifeless eye,

Or mark where cold my ashes lie?

E'en then His smile death's hour shall cheer,

His presence banish every fear;

To heaven my soul shall angels bear,

'T is Jesus calls, and God is there.

Retrospect of the Journey

“Not one thing hath failed of all the good things which the LORD your God spake concerning you."-

Josh..23:13

LORD, when the journey's over,

And we the road survey,
What grace shall we discover

Has led us all the way;

Where we were once so fearful,

The dangers seemed so vast;

Where we were sad and tearful,

The skies so overcast,

Because of weak faith's blindness

So slow Thy love to learn;-

We shall Thy watchful kindness

In every stage discern.

When we Thy joys inherit,

And all Thy glory share,

And through Thy death and merit

The crown of life shall wear;

When we shall drink the waters

Fresh from the throne of God,

With all the sons and daughters

Redeemed by Thy blood;

When we shall tune our voices

To golden harps above,

And each with all rejoices

In Thy surpassing love:-

Oh, what will seem the sorrow,

When measured with the joy

Of that eternal morrow,

Of bliss without alloy?

How light our heaviest

trouble!

How short our sharpest pain

!Gone like a bursting bubble,

Compared with all we gain!

He comes, and we are risen;

We meet Him in.the sky,-

One step, as from a prison,

To heaven's own home on high!

The world's vain, worthless pleasures,

Its treach'rous hopes and lies,

Its rusty worn-out treasures,

As baubles we despise:

We look for His appearing,

The Morning Star so bright;

This hope our spirits cheering

Beguiles the hours of night:

We know by many a token

We soon shall reach our home;

For our "Beloved" has spoken,

“Behold, I quickly come!”

But, oh, most blessed Savior, Before we see Thy face,

Grant us each day this favor,

To live upon Thy grace!

While groaning in this prison,

With many a grief opprest,

To look, with faith's strong vision,

To our eternal rest;

Time's seen-things all are wasting,

Night's shadows quickly flee;

O joy! the day is hasting-

Eternity with Thee!

As He Is, So Are We

“As He is, so are we in this world."-

1 JOHN 4:17.

LORD, what am I? I once for answer sought

Back to my birth of Adam's guilty race;

Defiled by nature, every word and thought

And deed of mine but told of my disgrace.

Far better had I been a thing of naught,

Than fill in this dark world the highest place.

Now what am I? I turn my eyes away

From all the loathsomeness I feel within;

Upon Thy head my hands by faith I lay,

The spotless Victim that hath born my sin:

Oh, wondrous grace, that did the guiltless slay,

That the poor sinner might through Thee be clean!

Lord, what am I? A sinner justified,-

The ransom of my soul Thy precious blood;

A vessel to Thy Father sanctified;

A king-a priest-a son-an heir of God!

In Thee accepted, loved, and glorified-

I stagger at the thought:... it seems too good!

Lord, what am I? I look within the veil;

I am in Thee-"as Thou art, so am I"-

Loved with a love that cannot tire or fail,

Fruit of Thy travail and soul's agony:

Against Thy counsels what can e'er prevail?

My rest, my home, are with Thee in the sky.

Tarrying Here

PAUL'S STRAIT.

“In a strait betwixt two."-PHIL. i. 23.

“If I Will that he tarry till I come."-John 21: 23.

LORD, if Thou wilt, I'll tarry here,

To serve Thy people in their need;

To help the weak, the mourners cheer,

Thy ransomed flock to tend and feed;

To guard them from the beasts of prey:

For this I 'd be content to stay.

Lord, I would still on earth abide,

If I may preach Thy gracious Word;

Proclaim the Christ, once crucified,

Exalted as the Savior-Lord;

Warn sinners from the wrath to flee,

And win their wandering hearts to Thee

Lord, if by grace I may abide

A fruitful branch in Thee, the Vine;

Thy Father's name be glorified

In any works, or words of.mine;

I 'd count it-suffer what I may-

My joy and privilege to stay.

Yes, Lord though to depart were gain,

For then I should behold Thy face,

Leaving behind all grief and pain,

And glory crown the work of grace;

Yet not my will, but Thine be done:

I'll tarry, till my course is run.

Jesus' Rebuke to Peter's Little Faith

“O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?

MATT. 16: 31.

O LORD, I blush to hear Thy lips inquire,

Why dost thou doubt? and, Why art thou afraid?

More than Thy Word, what can my soul desire?

Than Thy strong arm, why need I other aid?

And then I cannot question now Thy love,

For thou hast died, its heights and depths to prove.

Why do I doubt? I read Thy works of old,

None ever trusted in Thy help in vain;

Faith made Thy ancient heroes wax so bold,

Strong in Thy strength did each his vict'ry gain:

Thou canst not, if Thou wouldst, Thy Word forsake;

Thou wouldst not, if Thou couldst, Thy promise break.

Forgive, my Lord, the weakness of my faith;

Help me, O Lord, against my unbelief:

I would believe whate'er Thy scripture saith;

In my deep sorrows I can find relief

No-where, but pouring out my heart to Thee,

And in Thy promises so vast and free.

Lord, I have faith, or else I should not come;

My faith is weak, or else I should not fear;

Fill me with faith, and then there'll be no room

For unbelief, and all its workings drear:

Strong in Thy strength, my all-sufficient Lord,

I walk the waves, relying on Thy Word.

Oh, how I long for that bright cloudless hour,

When faith's weak vision shall be changed to sight!

For if such weakling faith as mine has power

At thoughts of Thee to fill me with delight,-

What will the vision of Thy glories prove,

In the eternal sunshine of Thy LOVE!

Hope Deferred Maketh the Heart Sick

Prov. 8: 12.

I 'm weary of awaiting!

The hours, with leaden feet,

Creep heavily, while hoping

My absent Lord to meet:

I count His days of absence;

How slow they seem to move!

Why tarries He, whose presence

I prize all joys above?

Should not the Bride of Jesus

Each hour His advent wait,

Whose love, than death, was stronger,

Beyond all reck'ning great?

The truest, warmest fervor

That human hearts can know,

Is, in its mid-day sunshine,

Cold as a taper's glow.

I long to see His glory;

I long to hear His voice;

I long, without a shadow

Of darkness, to rejoice:

To gaze on all the beauties

That shine in Jesus' face;

And feel that 't is forever,

I dwell in His embrace.

Those human, pure affections

God's hand hath formed so strong,

But shadow forth the heavenly,

Which to our Lord belong:

He 's Husband, Friend, and Brother,

All dearest ties in one;

His cross, the mighty magnet

Which our affections won.

The Promises

“Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find;
knock, and it shall be opened unto you."-Matt. 7:7

“Whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in My name, He may give it you."-John 15: 16.

FATHER, I hear these promises

From Thy Son's lips of love,

Which tell me, with a child-like faith,

To seek Thy throne above;

My all-prevailing plea and claim,

The merits of my Savior's name.

But oft, through sin and unbelief,

I stagger while I hear;

Are all these promises for me?

And may I draw so near?

These words of love and grace divine,

May I embrace and call them mine?

One look at Jesus on the tree,

And Jesus on the throne;

At Him, who bled and died for me,

And worthy is alone;

Chases my gloomy doubts away,

And turns my darkness into day.

Thine only Son-Thy soul's delight,

Thou didst not spare for me

With Him, however vast or bright,

All other gifts are free:

Father, Thy promise I believe,

“Ask what Thou wilt, Thou shalt receive.”

Always Rejoicing

“Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice."
PHIL. 4: 4.

How can my wretched heart rejoice,

By each temptation tempest-tossed?

I hear Mount Sinai's awful voice,

And conscience echoes, "Thou art lost!”

My sins like threat'ning billows rise;

Death, judgment, wrath affright my eyes.

Say,-can the pilot dream of joy,

When rocks and breakers round him lie?

Can songs of mirth their tongues employ,

Who in the thirsty desert die?

Can joy their aching bosoms share,

By hunger pinched, and cold, and care?

Around my soul the tempests roar;

Perils on every side I see;

Hungry and thirsty, faint and poor,-

What joy is left for such as me?

So great a rebel, base a slave-

Will God have pity? can He save?

Hark! what is that bursts on my ear,

Sweet as the angels' midnight song?

Can they be true the words I hear?

Do they to such as me belong?

“Come, weary soul, attend My voice;

I Jesus amin ME rejoice!”

“Rejoice! for thee thy curse I bore,

My blood I shed to cleanse thy soul;

Rejoice, though naked, sick, and poor,

For I can clothe, and make thee whole.

Believe in Me, and all 's forgiven;

The lost one made an heir of heaven.”

Now joyful songs my lips employ,

To Him who loved, and bled, and died;

My never-ending theme of joy,-

Jesus for me was crucified!

Louder in heaven I '11 lift my voice,

And make its very vaults rejoice.

The Soul's Resting-Place

My Savior, I am weary

Of everything but Thee;

All else is dark and dreary,

A wilderness to me.

By sin I am oppressed,

By Satan sorely tried,

With self-love all distressed:

In Thee myself I hide.

Thy precious blood it healeth

The wounds that sin has made;

My heart its comfort feeleth,

Whene'er it is afraid.

But, oh! the hope of being

Forever, Lord, with Thee;

The joyful hope of seeing

The face once marred for me:-

It fills my heart with comfort,

It fills my lips with praise;

So that amidst my sorrow

A joyful song I raise.

No more shall Satan tempt me,

No more shall sin deceive;
No more Thy heart, my Savior,

Shall I by folly grieve.

Oh! then I shall be like Thee,

And in Thine image shine:

With deepest joy confessing,

The glory's only Thine.

A Complaint

My Savior, can I e'er have known

The sweetness of Thy love?

So cold my wayward heart has grown,

And dead to things above.

Thou know'st the weakness of my faith,

The strength of inbred sin:

I mourn, and pray; I weep, and strive;

But darkness reigns within.

I come in all my helplessness,

To Thy dear feet I flee;

I cast myself upon Thy grace,

My only hope’s in Thee.

Thy blood, O Lord, has cleansed my guilt

Of more than crimson dye;

Now from my soul its darkness chase,

And light of life supply.

O Lord, Thou stretchest out Thine arms,

Once stretched upon the tree,

And bid'st my weary, troubled heart

Roll all its cares on Thee.

I come, my Lord; myself, in faith,

I to Thy love resign:

Oh, take my poor and worthless heart,

And make, and keep it Thine.

I Bring My Sorrow

“Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you.”

1 PETER 5: 7.

My God, I bring my sorrow

And cast it all on Thee;

Not careful for the morrow,

Because Thou car'st for me;

I need not dread the future,

But lean upon Thine arm;

If Thou, my God, art faithful,

What can Thy children harm?

I 'm poor indeed, and needy;

My faith is sorely tried:

But why should I be careful,

Since Thou wilt all provide?

And, when the tempter whispers

A doubt within my heart,

This silences his falsehoods,

That Thou my Father art.

I '11 trust Thee, then, my Father,

With all that 's dear to me:

With her, life's dear companion,

Best earthly gift to me;

With those that call me father,

And help my heart to know

Thy tenderness and pity,

Whene'er they call me so.

The Lord's Triumph

“Sing unto the LORD, for He hath triumphed gloriously.”

Exodus 15:1

COME, let us sing to the praise of our Savior,-

His triumphs and glory we '11 loudly proclaim;

Let us exult in His love, and His favor,

We, who are saved by the blood of the Lamb.

Sing, how He led us from Egypt victorious,

Crushed all our foes by the might of His arm,

In the pillar of fire marched, our Captain, before us:

Who now can His own beloved Israel harm?

Our foes-they pursued us, in fury exulting;

Before us lay swelling the waves of the sea;

The king with his captains, our weakness insulting,

Loud boasted their captives again we should be:

Jehovah-He laughed; He became our salvation;

He opened our path through the depths of thewave,

We sound our loud timbrels with glad exultation,

The waters have swallowed our foes like a grave.

Gospel Hymn

PRODIGALS INVITED HOME.

LUKE 15.

COME to the Father, come!

Oh why so long delay?

He calls the wand'rers home;

Why should you absent stay?

Have you not sorely proved,

The weight of Satan's chain?
That all you've sought and loved,

Is vanity and pain?

Come, Come, Come!

Come to the Father, come

His message now receive;

He yearns to have you home;

His pard'ning love believe:

His arms are opened wide

To clasp you to His breast;

For you His Son has died:

Return, and be at rest.

Come, Come, Come!

Come, all ye lost and dead;

Ye starved and naked, come;

Come, for the feast is spread,

There 's bread enough and room

The fatted calf is killed,

The wine and milk abound;

With joy your Father 's filled

To see you safe and sound,

Come, Come, Come!

Come from the far-off land,

Where death and famine reign;

Why should you halting stand?

Eternal life you '11 gain:

The best robe you shall wear,

Of righteousness divine;

Acknowledged son and heir,

In glory, each shall shine,

Come, Come, Come!

Come to the Father, come!

He waits His child to greet;

Come to His happy home,-

What welcomes there you '11 meet!

The dance and music wait

To lift their liveliest strain;

When, ent'ring through the gate,

You 're safely home again-

Come, Come, Come!

Ho! Every One That Thirsteth

ISAIAH 55: 1.

On, there are many tears and sighs

In this vain, sin-stained earth,-

Sad hearts, and deepest agonies

'Midst all its shouts of mirth:

Their festive scenes are gay, and loud

With music's swelling tone;

But when they 've left the laughing crowd,

What are they "all alone"?

How many a gaily-painted vest,

And robe of costly pride,

Is worn upon an aching breast,

Its inward woe to hide!

How many a song of revelry

Sounds bravely on the ear,

From those whose couch of misery

Is wet with many a tear!

The smiling lip, the laughing eye,

The careless, jaunting air,

Are masks, in which men proudly try

To hide their dark despair;

Like famous Moslem piles, that rise

Superb in eastern zones,-

Outside, so fair to human eyes,

Within, but dead men's bones.

A voice is heard, a voice of love,-

To each, to all, it cries,-

From One who came from joys above;

He calls, He weeps, He dies:

The Son of God has man become,

The prodigal to win;

And bring him to his Father's home,

From vanity and sin.

Oh, nothing does the Father spare,

His erring child to save;

All does the Son delight to bear,-

The curse, the cross, the grave:

To make salvation free and sure,

All does the Father give;

All does the Father's Son endure,

That we might come, and live.

Ye wearied ones, ye desolate,

Ye mourning souls, attend;

Be sins or sorrows e'er so great,

Come to the sinner's friend I

Seek not your guilt, orwoes, to hide,-

Ye need not from His eyes!

The Holy One will not in pride

A broken heart despise.

The smitten Rock, thou thirsty soul,

Gives forth its living streams;

Thou, sick one, He can make Thee whole;

Dark one, behold His beams!

No more, ye starving, labor spend

For that which is not bread;

To Jesus' gracious call attend,

And ye shall all be fed.

Savior, Thy voice I have obeyed,

And found each promise true:

And though my foolish feet have strayed,

Oftimes since Thee I knew;

With a full, thankful, joyful heart,

At Thy dear feet I fall,

Confessing all I need THOU art,

Yea, Thou art all in all.

TO THE WANDERERS.

YE think us sad and woeful,

Ye children of the earth;

Ye think we must be doleful,

Because we shun your mirth:

Have we not tried your pleasures,

Your revels, and your songs?
Have we not found the measures

Of what to you belongs?

Your mirth, 't is like the meteor

That flashes through the sky;

Your laughter passes fleeter

Than flowers that bloom and die:

Your gold and silver canker,

Your gaudy vests decay:

Where will your souls find anchor

When comes the stormy day?

Ye carry on right gladly

While calm and sunshine last;

The heavens ye brave right madly

Till skies grow overcast:

But if ye think of dying,

Of judgment-when alone

-On beds of sickness lying,

Where is your mirth all flown?

Ye tell us of our crosses,

Our sorrows and our pains;

Ye only see our losses,

Ye cannot count our gains.

'T is true the world opposes

Those who the world despise

And seek by faith, like Moses,

Their portion in the skies.

But oh, we 've joys and pleasures,

That ne'er shall pass away;

We 're rich with countless treasures,

That never can decay:

We 've feasts of love abounding

With dainties all divine,

And light our path surrounding

Which makes our faces shine.

Our sins are all forgiven;

We've sunshine in our breast,

Bright foretastes now of heaven

And our eternal rest:

We've promises to cheer us,

Almighty strength to guard;

Our Savior ever near us,

His love our sure reward.

Hymn for a Child

“What can a little thing like you do for Jesus?" said a Christian friend to my daughter Clara, when quite a little child. She looked up with a bright smile and said, "I can love Him.”

ALL have their work to do,

Appointed by their Lord;

Each should his own marked path pursue,

With girded loins and purpose true,

Obedient to His word.

Each glittering star obeys

Its Maker's sovereign sway;

And though they shine with differing blaze,

Both great and small proclaim His praise,

Though not with equal ray.

How glorious is the sun!

He rules by day the sky;

But when His daily course is done,

The silv'ry moon delights to run:

Both serve their God on high.

The lofty cedar shows

His greatness and His skill;

But every little flower that grows,

And scents the summer breeze that blows,

Tells of His goodness still.

And you, though in the world's esteem

A little feeble thing,

The Savior did with blood redeem,

That you might cleave with love to Him,

And His sweet praises sing.

Yes, you can love, and love is more

Than any outward deed;

You may His blessed name adore,-

What can the highest angel more?

Your Friend in every need.

HYMN FOR A CHILD.

“He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom.”

Isaiah 40:11.

HAST thou heard thy Shepherd's voice?

Well it may thy heart rejoice!

For in great and tenderest love

Down He came from heaven above,

And became a babe, that He

Might thy God and Savior be.

Look at Jesus'! At His birth

Angels sang of "Peace on earth;”

When in swaddling clothes arrayed,

He was in a manger laid:

For thy sake, O wondrous grace!

Jesus took that lowly place.

Look upon Him when a child,

Holy, spotless, meek, and mild;

Every look, and word, and way,

Naught but perfectness display:

He to thee His grace will give,

And will teach thee how to live

See Him on the shameful tree;

There He died, dear "lamb," for thee;

There He made thy peace with God,

And redeemed thee with His blood:

Listen to thy Shepherd's voice,

And to follow Him rejoice.

Brethren, the Time Is Short: 1 Corinthians 7:29

THE time is now short! Our salvation draws near,

And soon to receive us our Lord may appear;

Is your lamp burning brightly,replenished with oil?

Are your loins girded, brother, for labor and toil?

Our Lord whose great love was e'en stronger than death,

Who gives each His charge, while we wait here beneath,

Looks down from the throne each true servant to cheer;

His advent, my brother, each hour brings more near.

When He comes, there can never be suffering or shame,

Cross-bearings or toil to endure for His name;

No foes to encounter, no perils to brave,

No sufferers to succor, no lost ones to save.

When He comes, then the time for love's labor is o'er,

We can preach, we can visit, can wrestle no more:

The sword will be sheathed and the race will be run,

The harvest be reaped, and the victory won.

The third watch of the night, or the fourth may be past;

Of the twelve hours for working, this may be the last;

Then wake, brother, wake; work, brother, to-day:

To-morrow the Master may call us away.

Surely I Come Quickly

“He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

REV. 22: 20.

EXTRACT FROM A LETTER.

“I am persuaded we have to wait on The Lord about His coming, and the state of His people as being in that day (if they will welcome it) practically ready for it. I have no theory that I know of beyond this: that I hold it will be to His dishonor, who has loved us and given Himself for us (that we might live alone unto Him), if He were to come, and find none actually and practically waiting for Him. To our dishonor surely; but more than that, to His; and I use this oft in prayer to the Father."-G. V. W. to

J. G. D.

BRETHREN, hark! the midnight cry!

Lo! the Bridegroom draweth nigh!

Let us all with joy proclaim Him,

Lest our careless slumbers shame Him;

Shame, were ready none to meet Him,

None prepared with joy to greet Him!

Shame to us, were robes not white;

Shame, were lamps not burning bright;

Shame, if not our vigils keeping,

He should find the virgins sleeping!

Hark! my brethren, hear the cry,

“Lo, the Bridegroom draweth nigh!”

Let us each repeat the cry,

Louder let the tidings fly;

Every virgin swell the story

Of the Bridegroom's coming glory!

Lamps all burning, hearts all beating,

Longing for the joyous meeting. AMEN!

Gospel Invitation

ISAIAH 55.

YE sons of men, who seek, and seek in vain,

For that which satisfies the craving heart;

Ye, who for wisdom rack the lab'ring brain;

Ye, that for riches crowd the busy mart;

Ye sons of pleasure, who excitement crave,

Drinking those drafts that make you thirst the more;

Ye, who for glory, death and dangers brave;

Ye full, yet empty; wealthy, and yet poor;-

Ye labor hard, but bread ye cannot gain;

Ye spend your money earned by feverish toil:

Naught that endures can all your wit obtain;

Naught that of death is not the certain spoil.

There is a man-a man in glory now-

“THE MAN OF SORROWS" was He for our sake;

A crown of thorns we put upon His brow,

And with our scorn His tender heart did break;

But still His love rose higher than our ill,

He would not save HIMSELF His foes to save;

Redemption's work He did alone fulfill;

Our sins He bore, and buried in His grave;

He cries-oh, hearken to His loving voice,

Behold His tears, His agonies, His blood

“Ye dying sons of men, Rejoice, Rejoice;

I am the Life, the Truth, the Way to God!”

“Come unto Me, ye weary ones, for rest;

Ye hungry, thirsty, helpless, come to Me;

There is a home of safety in My breast,

Peace in the blood I shed on Calvary:

Come unto Me, your souls shall then be fed;

Come unto Me, all other springs are dry;

Come, for I am the living, heavenly bread,

Drink from My side the streams that satisfy,

The fatness of God's house, the milk, the wine;

All, all are yours, if you will but be mine.”

I Love the Blessed Bible

“We have not followed cunningly devised fables."
2 Peter 1:16

SOME tell me that the Bible

Is not God's sacred Word,

And brand as cunning fables

The records of the Lord;

That Moses is a fiction,

And Prophets never spake;

And e'en the blessed gospels

As myths I should forsake.

There was a time I listened

To these old serpent's lies,

My foolish heart sore tempted

The Bible to despise:

Its holiness rebuked me,

Its precepts crossed my will;

I wished to silence conscience,

And thus my lusts fulfill.

I cared not for the Savior,

This present world I loved;
Its lusts, and wealth, and glory,

Alone my passions moved.

I cared not for a heaven,

I hoped there were no hell;

I wished for no hereafter,

I loved my sins too well.

Alas! in mad rebellion,

I hoped there were no God:

I cared not for His favor,

Though trembling at His rod;

I wished His word a fable

That warned of wrath to come;

“No God," my heart would mutter,

“No future weal, or doom!”

And yet my mother taught me,

In tones so sweet and mild,

To know its holy pages

E'en when I was a child;

She read to me of Jesus,

Of all His grace and love;

And sought with tears my blessing-

His blessing from above.

Oh, why did I so madly

My mother's law forsake?

Oh, why did I so basely

God's righteous precepts break?

Oh, why did I so blindly

His warnings all despise,

And from the Friend of Sinners

wert my heart and eyes?

His mercy still pursued me

While wand'ring far away;

His hand with sickness smote me,

To wound, but not to slay:

His Spirit then convinced me,

And brought my guilt to light;

I saw my lost condition,

How awful was the sight!

The serpent's crafty teachings,

The heart's deceptive lies,
The skeptic's subtle reasonings,

All vanished from mine eyes:

Naked, and lost, and guilty,

Beneath God's searching eye-

Eternity before me-

Oh, whither could I fly?

Oh then what beauteous sunshine

Burst on my raptured sight!

It chased away the darkness,

And all was life, and light:

I saw how grace and glory

In God's free gospel shone;

Before the cross, my terrors

And unbelief were gone.

I love the blessed Bible,

I know it all is true;

It is a faithful mirror

In which myself I view:

It shows me all my weakness,

My folly and my shame;

But makes thereby more precious

My Savior's grace and name.

Oh what a light in darkness!

Oh what a balm in woe
What streams of consolation

Through all its pages flow!
What mines of richest treasure,

What glories fresh I meet,

While, pondering the Scriptures,

I sit at Jesus' feet!

His name, like sweetest music,

Falls ever on mine ear;

I go to it, expecting

My Savior's voice to hear:

A monument of mercy!

Oh, may my life proclaim

The truth of God's salvation,

The glory of His name!

Part 2

SCRIPTURAL SUBJECTS.

Who Is the Lord?

“Who is the Lord, that I should obey His voice?”

EXODUS 5: 2.

WHO is the LORD? His power pervades

From earth to heaven's remotest sky,

-Seen in the light, that bids the shades

Of midnight's thickest darkness fly;

The planets that majestic roll,

The sun that shines from pole to pole,

Declare His glorious majesty.

Who is Jehovah? Hear His name

In whirlwinds and in thunder pealed;

Behold it in the dreadful flame

Of forked lightnings bright revealed:

Famine, sickness, earthquakes, fire,

Are His ministers of ire;

His,-who is our Rock and Shield.

In the vale of emerald green;

In the stream, the tree, the flower;

In the azure vault serene,

And the twilight's peaceful hour:

Listen to fair nature's voice,

Hear her constant song, " Rejoice

In God's goodness, skill, and power.”

Who is the LORD? A starry gem

To you low shed directs our eyes;

The angels sing, "At Bethlehem

The King of grace and glory lies:”

See Him in a manger laid,

Him, in swaddling-clothes arrayed,

Who outspread the boundless skies.

Who is the LORD? You lonely One

Whom all reject, whom all deride!

The birds have nests; but He hath none

From cold or heat His head to hide:

Hungering, thirsting, fainting, lo!

See "the Man of Sorrows" go;

My soul, for thee He all did bide.

Who is the LORD? You prostrate One,

In that dark vale, Gethsemane;

Oh, mark that bitter cry and groan;

Those tears, and sweat, and agony!

O'er Him the sins of ages roll,

Sorrows of death o'erwhelm His soul:

Sinner, all this He bore for thee.

Who is the LORD? A prisoner led!

See how they bend the mocking knee;

A crown of thorns is on His head;

“BEHOLD THE MAN!" Can this be HE?

He at whose beck the angels fly?

Who wields Heaven's red artillery?

Yes, even this He bore for thee.

Who is the LORD? Behold that tree-

Hell's power, man's hate, sin's doom meet there;

Such crushing loads of agony

Who, but Jehovah's self, could bear?

'T is night at noon; earth groans and shakes,

While God His only Son forsakes-

His only Son He did not spare!

Who is the LORD? Can this be He,

Who utters that heart-broken cry,

“Why hast Thou, God, forsaken Me?”

"Eli, lama sabachthani.”

Is this the well-beloved Son,

With the eternal Father one?

My soul, thy sin's the answer WHY.

Who is the LORD? His corpse they lay,

With its five wounds, in you new cave,-

The Lord of life, death's willing prey;

They seal the stone, they guard the grave:

Well may we weep around His tomb;

Love's deepest depth! sin's deadliest doom!

For us Himself He would not save.

What epitaph could we indite

His name, His deeds, His worth to tell?

“Here lies the Lord of Life, and Light,

Jesus, the Christ, Emmanuel.”

O sinner, look within, and see

All that thy Lord has borne for thee;-

O Love divine, unsearchable!

Who is the LORD? Behold on high,

A Man sits on the Father's throne;

The Man, that did for sinners die,

“As Lord of lords," heaven's myriads own:

“Worthy the Lamb!" all angels cry,

“Worthy the Lamb!" our songs reply,

HE IS THE LORD, AND HE ALONE.

The Nativity

“The people which sat in darkness saw great light; and to them which sat in the region and shadow of death light is sprung up."-MATT. 4:16

“THE people sat in darkness," and in iron fetters bound;

They hugged their chains, and willing slaves in them their master found:

His temples with their rites obscene are reared on every shore,-

Each act of cruel worship but degrades them more and more.

The Grecian seeks for wisdom, while boasting he is wise;

Before the Roman's iron sword the whole world prostrate lies;

But the Roman and the Grecian, the wise man and the brave,

Wear sin's oppressive, galling yoke, and wear it to the grave.

“The people sat in darkness," yea, in death's cold midnight gloom,

No ray to cheer the passage to the dark, devouring tomb!

The mourners weep despairingly around the yawning grave;

No hope is known to enter there, for they know none to save:

O'er high and low, o'er rich and poor, pale Death as despot reigns,

No gold can bribe, no monarch's power can break his iron chains;

For Sin and Death, and Death and Sin, they reign in every part,

In palaces and cottages, in temples and in mart.

“The people sat in darkness." Alas! e'en Israel's race

Before the world their fathers' God, by foulest deeds, disgrace:

They boast of all His favors great, the Gentiles they despise-

“The temple of the Lord are we,-we only safe and wise.”

They glory in Mount Sinai's law, which every hour they break;

The outward forms of good observe, but God Himself forsake:

The darkness of the burning Mount has settled on their heart,-

They seek Him with their lying lips, yet far from Him depart.

“The people sat in darkness:" they have bowed to Cesar's sway;

The other Gentile empires have risen and passed away:

The Roman iron legions have crushed to dust their foes;

All wars are hushed, and Caesar bids the gates of Janus close:

Decrees are issued from the west, from Rome's proud capitol,

And all, as subjects of his rule, must now their names enroll;

E'en Judah must the Gentile own, and David's royal race

To their own town their weary way, like all the world, must haste.

“The people sat in darkness." Ah! they loved the shades of night,-

Though many groaned in secret, and sighed for heavenly light:

There were broken-hearted mourners who waited for the day,

Long promised in the Prophets, to chase the gloom away;

Of Abram's Seed, of David's Son, the virgin's Child they read,

The woman's long-expected seed, to bruise the serpent's head;

“How long, O Lord! how long?" they cried:their groaning reached His ear:

The time drew near for Bethl'hem's Star in brightness to appear.

“The people sat in darkness:" all the world is hushed in sleep,

The shepherds on the mountains their flocks in safety keep;

When lo! with sudden glory, the heavens grow dazzling bright;

An angel from the throne above, bursts on their startled sight:

“Fear not," he cries, " good tidings of the greatest joy I bring;

This day is born a Savior, the Christ, your Lord and King;

In Bethlehem, in a manger, in swaddling-clothes reclined,

The royal Heir of David's throne, the holy Child, you'll find.”

“The people sat in darkness;" but lo! a glorious star

Has told the blessed tidings to the Eastern sages far:

They cross the sandy deserts, they hasten to the fane,

Where stands Jehovah's altar, where David erst did reign;

They find an Idunuean upon the royal throne,

The birth of the Messiah to priests and king unknown:

But Micah, he has spoken, He 's born at Bethlehem;

They onward go, safe-guided by that celestial gem.

They find the blessed Virgin with her all-wondrous Child,-

Oh, never will they now regret their journey long and wild!

They worship Him, adoring God's long-expected King,

And joyfully before Him their willing tributes bring;

The gold and myrrh and frankincense before His feet they lay,

Bright earnest of that blessed time when all shall own His sway:

Of Herod's wiles then warned of God, to their own land return,

While their glad hearts with joy and love and holy wonder burn.

A Hymn of Adoration

WRITTEN ON CHRISTMAS-DAY, 1870.

My God, my Father, when I first beheld

Thy Holy Lamb uplifted on the tree,

My heart at Thy great grace was overwhelmed,

That Thou shouldst bruise Thy only Son for me:

How sinful looked my sin in that pure light,

Of righteous grace, and sin-condemning love!

Oh, how Thy grace shone forth in glory bright,

Abounding, all-abounding, sin above!

There I found peace to my poor trembling heart;

His perfect off'ring gave me perfect rest;

Then I found strength from all my sins to part,

Such holy love and gladness filled my breast:

The world, with all its pleasures, lost its charm;

I thirsted, O my God, alone for Thee;

I leant my weakness on Thy mighty arm,-

The arm I dreaded once was all for me.

But now, while resting on that work of grace,

And glorying only in His cross, and name,-

His opened side my soul's abiding-place,-

And sure my hope will ne'er be put to shame;

In my deep peace I oft myself forget,

And gaze upon His face to find out Thee;

And deeper, richer, holier joys I get,

As Thou Thyself art more revealed to me.

In Him Thou art revealed, my God, alone:

Thy wisdom all creation's wonders tell,

Thy righteous government Thy laws make known,

Thy awful justice lights the fires of hell;

But Thou Thyself in darkness wast concealed,

No creature could Thy glorious face behold;

But now, by Him, Thou hast Thyself revealed;

Thy Son hath come, and all Thy being told.

O God, my God, what can Thy child declare?

In Him I see Thy face; I see, and live.

In man, than all the sons of men more fair,

Thou dost Thy fullest, highest semblance give.

Th' Image of th' invisible, is HE;

“Only-begotten Son" His peerless name;

I hear Him speak,-my God, He utters Thee;

I see Him work,-His works Thyself proclaim.

Thou living God, Eternal Life is He!

Thou God art Light, and He is Light Divine:

By death, o'er death He won the victory;

All darkness flees where'er His sunbeams shine.

And Thou art Love—both Light and Love Thou art,

The Holy, Holy, Holy Lord Most High;

Thou hast in Him revealed Thine inmost heart,
The heart that gave Thine only Son to die.

His death reveals Thy name, as well as saves;

Thy very Being, Life,-and Light is Love:

When my rapt spirit in this ocean bathes,

Or in this heaven wings her flight above;

And when Thy attributes my mind possess,

Thy wisdom, glory, might, all powers above,

And I am lost in my own nothingness,-

Here I can rest that God Himself is Love.

The Circumcision and Presentation in the Temple

O MARY, Virgin-mother of my Lord,

How throbbed thy heart with rapture and amaze

While thou didst ponder each successive word

Spoke of thy child in His sweet infant days!

The angel's salutation, ere thy womb

Conceived that "holy thing" by power divine,-

Whom long-expectant ages hoped to come,

The promised seed of David's royal line.

The shepherds told thee of the glorious sight

That filled their simple souls with glad amaze,

When heavenly hosts illumed the vaults of night,

And made them vocal with celestial praise. ‘

The Magi journeying from the East afar,

Offering their gifts-gold, myrrh, and incense sweet,

Told how, safe guided by His rising star,

Lowly they came to worship at His feet.

The rite imposed on Abram and his seed

He undergoes, though free from stain is He;

And even now for others deigns to bleed,

And early tastes vicarious agony.

Did thy soul shrink to hear His infant moan?

Already with His blood must bleed thy heart;

If thee "most blessed of women" all shall own,

For thy great blessing thou must learn to smart.

But let this cheer thee, though His blood must flow,

And thou lament to hear His plaintive moan,-

And this is but a foretaste of the woe

Of Calvary's cross and His expiring groan:

The First-begotten from the womb of death

The first-begotten of thy womb shall be;

And the loud cry of His expiring breath

Shall wake the praises of eternity.

Now He receives that glorious name of love,

That name nailed o'er Him on th' accursed tree,

JESUS, the name first given in heaven above,

By Gabriel told to Joseph and to thee.

Others to save, thy holy infant bleeds;

Others to save, He sinks in Jordan's wave;

Oh, love divine, that all our thoughts exceeds!

“Others to save, Himself He would not save.”

Now to the temple thou dost take thy Son,

With Him two turtle-doves, thine offering, bear;

Know'st thou, while gazing His sweet face upon,

Thou hast a greater than the temple there?

Before His face that temple, decked with gold,

Its priests and smoking altars, all shall flee;

Its rites, and forms, and feasts are waxen old:

They are the shadows,-but the substance He.

The Ark of God thou carriest in thy breast;

He is the spotless Lamb, the guileless Dove;

Thy babe is God's most high and royal Priest;

His body, temple of incarnate love:

The only blood that purgeth sin's dark stains,

And can for sin-thy sin and mine-atone,

Flows in thy infant's pure and sacred veins,

And must flow forth from His dear side alone.

Oh, well may aged Simeon rejoice

When in his arms he holds this holy Lamb,

Lift up in praise to God his thankful voice,

And his Lord's advent far and wide proclaim!

“Now let thy servant, Lord, depart in peace,

Thy great salvation with my eyes I see;

The light to bid the Gentile darkness cease,

And Israel's glory and Redeemer be.”

Oh, glorious mystery of mysteries!

Behold a virgin-mother of her Lord,-

Her Savior cradled in her bosom lies,

The woman's seed, the high Eternal WORD.

Prophets and kings His advent burned to see,

While Hell, affrighted, hears that infant's voice;

Bruiser of Satan's head that babe shall be:

Shiloh is come! Let earth with heaven rejoice!

Jesus, the Son of Man

“What is man, that Thou art mindful of him?”

PSALM 8:4

O LORD, when I Thy heavens survey,

Thy sun, the glorious lord of day,

Thy moon in silv'ry splendor bright,

Thy stars, that sing Thy praise at night:

“What’s man," I ask, " that man should be

An object of regard to Thee?”

Created by Thy skill divine,

Man once did in Thy likeness shine;

But soon, alas seduced by pride,

Thy scepter and Thy love defied:

Now sensual, base, sin's willing slave,

His path’s a blot,-his end the grave.

Upward I look, beyond the sun,

Beyond the star-bespangled zone,

Beyond creation's utmost bound

Of height, and depth, and breadth profound;

And see, their glories all above,

“THE SON OF MAN” -the Lord I love.

The heavens with all their hosts proclaim

Their great Creator’s glorious name;

His wisdom, goodness power divine,

They celebrate where’er they shine;

But God Himself,oh, wondrous plan!-

Thine image is “The Son of Man:”

The riches of Thy truth and grace

All shine revealed in Jesus’ face;

Thy heart unveiled to man appears

In Jesus’ words, and looks, and tears;

But oh, all finite ken above,

His cross reveals Thee, -GOD OF LOVE!

The Son of Man, the Son of God,

The woman’s seed, and David’s rod;

Th’ incarnate Word, the Life, the Light,

Son of Thine infinite delight;_

Eclipsed is all creation’s blaze,

When on His glorious face I gaze.

Lord, what is man?‘Tis He who died,

And all Thy nature glorified;

Thy righteousness and grace displayed

When He for sin atonement made,

Obedient unto death, was slain:-

Worthy is He o’er all to reign.

Jesus on the Sea of Galilee

“It is I; be not afraid.”

-MARK 6:47-51.

THE night is dark, the winds are high,

Black rolling clouds obscure the sky;

Fierce bursts the storm that sweeps the sea

Of. thy green shores, O Galilee:

In vain you boatmen ply the oar,

And toil to gain the wished-for shore.

Oh, never, since first seamen brave

Ventured to trust the treacherous wave,

Did bark so rich a freight contain,

Nor e'er shall hold so rich again

As that now tossing on the sea,

Of thy green shores, O Galilee.

No silk, or pearls, or dust of gold,

That little storm-tossed skiff may hold;

No men of wealth, or power, or birth,

The wise and mighty of the earth:

Man's eye therein no more could see

Than fishermen of Galilee.

Soldiers of Christ those boatmen are,

Listed for faith's all-glorious war;

The chosen heralds of God's grace,

Sent forth to ev'ry clime and race,

To battle with the hosts of hell,

And God's glad news of mercy tell.

Oh, how would hell's dark vaults profound,

With yells of fiendish triumph sound,

The hosts of darkness shout with joy,

Could Satan's craft that bark destroy;

And those poor boatmen find their grave,

Deep in the Galilean wave!

Ye tempests howl! ye billows swell!

Rage on, ye mighty gates of hell!

Muster your hosts; arm all your powers-

The rack, the stake, the dungeon's towers:

Before those men ye all shall fail;

They shall, through Christ, o'er all prevail.

Foul is the wind, the waves run high,

Their wearied oars in vain they ply,-

When lo! a wondrous form of light

Bursts on the darkness of the night,

And walks upon the depths profound,

As if the sea were solid ground.

With throbbing hearts, in wild amaze,

The startled boatmen trembling gaze,

“It is a spirit," lo! they cry,

As to their bark its steps draw nigh;

Such visions of the night, more drear

To mortal hearts, than sword or spear.

“Fear not: 't is I; be not afraid,”

With well-known voice, their Master said.

“Fear not: 't is I; be of good cheer,

Nor let your hearts give way to fear.

I walk upon the liquid wave,

Jesus, Emmanuel, strong to save.”

“It is the Lord!" they gladly cry

What joy succeeds their agony!”

It is the Lord! our Savior near,

What room is there for care, or fear?

All earth and hell we can defy

If we but know our Lord is nigh.”

“If it indeed be Thou, my Lord,”

Peter replies, " but speak the word,

And I myself will walk the sea,

Guide Thy poor shattered vessel home;

Bid the wild blasts and tempests cease:

Oh, come,-and then 't will all be peace!

Landed oh Canaan's heavenly shore,

We 'll love, and worship, and adore.

Fearless of aught, to come to Thee!”

He bids him come; he leaves the bark,

And ventures on those waters dark.

Oh, wondrous power of living faith!

Who credits what Jehovah saith,

And on almighty love relies,

Dares all impossibilities;

Shuts lions' mouths, the furnace braves,
Quenches the fires, and walks the waves.

Creation owns its sovereign Lord,

The sea sustains Him at His word:

He, who of old, by Moses' rod,

Taught its proud waves to know their God,

And bade them stand like walls of brass,

To let His Israel safely pass,

Now, in man's meek and lowly form,

Commands the waves, and rules the storm.

He will His Peter's feet uphold

While Peter's faith is bright and bold,

And make him as securely stand

As if the sea were solid land.

But oh, how wavering is our faith!

At times Thy martyrs smile at death,

Armies of aliens put to flight,

Wax valiant in the hottest fight;

And then anon their cheeks grow pale,

Their arms hang down and footsteps fail.

But still the sky is overcast;

More loudly howls the infuriate blast;

Madly the billows rage, as they

Were loth to lose their wonted prey;

From Christ to them he turns his eyes:

“Save, Lord, I perish," Peter cries.

He sinks beneath the yawning flood,

Where erst by faith he safely stood:

Oh, well for him his Lord was near,

And quick his drowning cries to hear,

And stretch His mighty hand to save

His servant from the watery grave!

“O thou of little faith," He said,

“Why was thy foolish heart afraid?”

Ah, Lord, 't is ever thus with me

Unmoved I stand while trusting Thee;

But sink, whene'er I turn my eyes

On the dark waves that round me rise.

They reach the ship: with joyful breast

They welcome their Almighty Guest;

The clouds disperse, the storm is laid,

The winds His bidding have obeyed;

And soon they reach the wished-for shore,

And wondering at His feet adore.

Jesus, while Thou to heaven art gone,

Thy Church is, like that bark, alone,

Tossed on the sea,-and all is night,

While tempests vex and waves affright;

In vain we toil with lab'ring oar,

And strive to gain the heavenly shore.

And if some, bolder than the rest,

Venture to dare the watery waste,

How soon, alas! their footsteps fail,

As doubt and unbelief prevail;

How oft, when sinking in the wave,

We cry, "We perish, Jesus! save.”

Haste, then, O Savior, quickly come,

Guide Thy poor shattered vessel home;

Bid the wild blasts and tempests cease:

Oh, come,-and then ‘twill all be peace!

Landed on Canaan’s heavenly shore,

We’ll love and worship, and adore.

Jesus at the Well of Samaria

JOHN 4.

THERE were two worn and weary ones

That met at Jacob's well;

Both could of earth the emptiness

And toil and sorrow tell:

The one had sought in paths of sin

Her happiness to gain;

And found, as all our hearts have found,

She sought it there in vain.

She comes alone, for good report

Her company would scorn;

Weary, degraded, desolate,-

At mid-day, not at morn:

Scorched by the blazing sun above,

Her, conscience scorched within,

Samaria's erring daughter proved

The bitterness of sin.

But He, who sat by Jacob's well,

Was weary-hearted too;

This earth He found a wilderness,

In which no rest He knew:

He toiled, He daily spent his strength,

His loins were girded fast;

There were but "twelve hours in the day;”

He 'd labor to the last.

From Zion's hill, and Judah's plains,

To Galilee He moved,-

To seek and save the lost intent;

This was the work He loved.

Love brought Him down from heaven to earth,

Our mis'ries touched His heart;

Love made Him take a human birth,

With us to have a part.

Toil never out-wears love. Love toils

And finds its rest in toil;

Love cannot rest, when those it loves

Are misery's sport and spoil;

Love rests in work; Love joys in pain,

If only it may bless

The objects of its care, and save

From suffering and distress.

The faithful Shepherd leaves the flock,

His one lost sheep to find;

Follows its tracks o'er thorny wastes,

To toil and danger blind:

And when His lost one He has found,

How great is His delight!

He bears it on His shoulders home,

And counts the burden light.

Hungry, and thirsty, weary too,

He sits on Jacob's well;

But the strong thirstings of His love,

To rescue souls from hell,

Make Him forget all but her need,

All but His Father's will:

His meat, His drink, His one delight,

His mission to fulfill.

It was a task that needed all

His gracious skill, to win

That hardened heart and darkened mind,

So long enslaved by sin:

What wise and faithful tenderness

In all His words we see 1

Each one of us, O Lord, confess,

Thou didst the same for me.

And still, O Lord, Thou art the same,

Though seated on the throne,

As when, on that eventful day,

Thy grace to her was shown:

Thyself, the precious gift of God,

Givest those waters free;

And openest lips, like hers of old,

To win fresh souls to Thee.

Jesus and the Little Ones

“O woman... be it unto thee even as thou wilt.”

Matt. 15:28.

O WOMAN, is thy mother's-heart

Full often sore distressed,

When gazing on thy little ones,

Close folded to thy breast?

Dear as they are, and lovely too,

As spring's first blossoms fair,

Thou know'st beneath their comeliness,

Sin's deadly germs are there.

When looking round thee on this earth,

Thou thinkest oft with sighs,

That 'neath its flowery scenes of mirth,

Full many a pitfall lies!

How many lurers may be found

To tempt them from thy Lord;

What honied, serpent-tongues abound,

To wile them from His Word!

Fain wouldst thou shield thy babes from harm,

For them thy life resign;

But, oh, how feeble is thine arm,

How weak all strength of thine!

“What futures will thy loved ones make?”

The thought thy mind employs;

Will they thy heart with anguish break,

Or crown thy head with joys?

Mother, thou hast a refuge near,

Jesus, the virgin's child;

Who trod Himself earth's deserts drear,

Holy, and undefiled:

He lay upon a woman's breast,

He lisped a mother's name;

And childhood, youth, and manhood blessed,

Who child and man became.

Oh, mystery of mysteries!

Oh, theme surpassing sweet!

The Son of God an infant lies,

Who now does infants greet;

Oh, wondrous love! Oh, grace divine!

Oh, tidings full of joy I

Well might the heavens with glory shine,

Angels their tongues employ.

Behold Emmanuel, as He stands,

While mothers round Him press,

And place their children in His hands,

For Him to save and bless.

Does He reject the feeblest lamb,

That tender Shepherd? nay;

He gives them sore rebuke and blame,

Who turn those babes away.

Mother, behold thy Savior's face,

His hands, and feet, and side;

Canst thou not trust His love and grace,

Who for thy dear ones died?

Oh, lay those tender lambs of thine

On that kind Shepherd's breast;

Their future to His care resign,

And in His wisdom rest.

Mother, how multiplied thy joy,

What solace to thy fears;

To train them now thy sweet employ,

To serve in coming years.

Still look to Him, and trust, and pray,

Who has the work begun;

“E'en as thou wilt," still hear Him say,

“Woman, it shall be done.”

Jesus Receiving Children

A MOTHER'S APPEAL.

“And they brought young children to Him, that He should touch them: and His disciples rebuked

those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, He was much displeased.”

Mark 10:13-16.

JESUS, my Lord, Thou meek and holy One,

I came to Thee all sad and full of grief;

Drawn by Thy love, and that kind, gracious tone,

That bade the weary come, and find relief:

Thou didst receive me; Thou hast given me rest;

My burden 's gone; my heart is light, and blest.

But, O my Lord, I have an infant here,

Too young to come itself, or pray, to Thee;

And, while my mother's heart so holds it dear,

She knows 't was born in sin and misery:

E'en now I see its evil passions move;

A child of fallen man,-the babe I love.

May I approach Thee with my little one?

Is it too mean to lay it at Thy feet?

Lord, Thy disciples, with disdainful tone,

Bade me to take away my infant sweet;

But, oh! I feel, deep in my mother's heart,

More pitiful than they, my Lord, Thou art.

For Thou, O Lord, Thyself wast once a child,

Wrapped in Thy swaddling clothes; but even then

Thy name was JESUS, holy, undefiled;

And Thou didst enter, like us sinful men,

A helpless infant on this world of woe;

Was it not, Lord, Thy grace for babes to show?

I ask no worldly portion for my child;

I seek not of Thee gold, or rank, or fame:

Save it from sin; from human passions wild;

An interest in Thy love is all I claim.

Lord, make it Thine-Thine only-is my plea,

To love, and serve, and live alone for Thee.

My suit is granted, Lord! Thou hast a frown

For those that chide me, but a smile for me;

Thou hast rebukes to break their proud hearts down,

That would keep back a little child from Thee:

My child is in Thine arms-'tis on Thy breast;

Yea, Thou dost bless it; and it shall be blest.

A Mother to Her Infant Babe

MY babe, my new-born babe! can aught be weaker?

Can aught appeal so strong to God, in man?

How eloquent the wail of such a speaker,-

A suffering babe, as soon as life began!
His only SON, to save its soul from danger,

Became Himself the woman's holy seed;

Oh, lovely Babe, that scornedst not the manger,

In Thee the heart of God I love to read!

And when, in manhood's strength, I see Thee cherish

Babes, like my babe, on Thy most tender breast,

And say Thou wouldst not one of them should perish,

Mine I commit to Thee, and am at rest.

Self-Denial

“If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself."
LUKE ix. 23.

SELF is the idol, formed of sin and dust,

All worship,-burning incense to their pride;

Each deeming homage paid to self most just;

Save their self-will knowing no law beside.

Poor, worthless idol, set up first through guile

Of the old serpent; when our parents took

That fruit whose taste was death, but thought the while,

When they the God of love and light forsook,

That gods they made themselves instead of slaves,

Gods, that have made God's world a world of graves!

Oh, glorious triumph of Incarnate Love!

The Son of God, self-sacrificed for those

Who, when He came self-emptied, from above,

From love of sinful self became His foes!

Oh, how it humbles self, on Him to gaze

In his unselfish path of patient grace

Servant of others all His pilgrim days,

Who can one shade of selfish seeking trace?

“If Thou be Christ, save self," they mocking cried:

Others to save, He gave Himself,-and died.

Self cannot conquer self. In vain men try

The hermit's cell, and cowl, and fasts, and cord:

The body may be lashed, and starved, and die;

Self-humbled self more proudly self will laud.

When on the cross we fix our wondering eyes,

Or sit adoring at the Savior's feet,

The meek and lowly One such grace supplies,

As makes His self-denying yoke so sweet,

That dead with Him to self, love only lives,

And Him to follow daily victory gives.

Jesus at the Grave of Lazarus

“Jesus wept."-JOHN 11: 35.

IT was not to her brother's new-made grave,

That Mary, from her chamber, went to weep,

But to her Lord, so full of power to save,

Who passed Himself through death's dark, swelling wave,

To turn death's terrors into peaceful sleep.

She knew His love. She sat in happier hours

A soul-rapt listener at His holy feet;

Drank in His living words like April showers,

Like dew distilled upon the opening flowers,

As heavenly music to her spirit sweet.

How changed the scene was now! Her happy home,

Where Jesus ever was a welcome guest,

Sickness had entered, death's dark shadows come;

Lazarus was now an inmate of the tomb:

Distracting thoughts and anguish filled her breast.

Had they not sent to tell Him of their pain?

“He whom Thou lov'st is sick," their strong appeal:

They looked, but still they looked, and looked in vain;

At such an hour, what could His feet detain?

Did not His heart for their affliction feel?

“Oh that He 'd come! or, even speak the word!”

A hundred times her burthened spirit sighed;

The thought, "I am forgotten by the Lord,”

With wound more piercing than a two-edged sword,

Mary, may-be, thy tempted bosom tried!

Now all is o'er-gone is that brother dear;

Jesus nor came, nor spake the sought-for aid;

Four days have passed since death reigned master here,

And they had weeping followed slow his bier,

And in the silent tomb his body laid.

Many have gathered to that house of woe;

Well it was known to be the loved retreat,

Where, after toil and conflict with the foe,

From strife and tumult, Jesus used to go,

And with these friends enjoy communion sweet.

But all in vain they seek her heart to cheer,

In vain their tears of sympathy may flow;

Can they restore to her that brother dear?

But Martha comes-she whispers to her ear,

“The Master calls thee; to His presence go.”

Oh, gleam of sunshine in the darkest sky!

“Jesus is here, He calls me!" From her seat

She rises quickly. Whither should we fly,

But to Thy bosom, when the waves are high?

Weeping she falls, and worships at His feet.

“Lord, if Thou hadst been here, he had not died,"-

'T is all her lips can utter. Lord, how true!

Death to assault Thine own in vain had tried,

If Thou wert here, and we but near Thy side;

Thy absence is death's time, and Satan's too.

His answer was not words, but groans and tears;

Oh, tears and groans of sympathy divine!

How fraught with glory, "JESUS WEPT," appears!

What stores of comfort through all coming years!

The woe, that wrings my spirit, touches Thine;

It almost makes the darkness turn to light,

Sorrow to joy, when thus Thy grace we know:

On blackest clouds the rainbow shines most bright,

The stars most brilliant in the darkest night;

So shines Thy love in deepest shades of woe.

Thou hast, O Lord, a bottle for our tears!

Thine in our inmost hearts deep-treasured lie,

Our richest cordial in all griefs and fears;

More precious than the costliest gem, appears

Each drop of Thy most tender sympathy.

Men learned Thy love, when they beheld Thy woe:

“See how He loved Him," they admiring cried.

Oh, priceless tears, and groans! and yet we know

E'en more Thy heart's deep fountains, since did flow

The streams of blood and water from Thy side.

Oh, blessed Jesus, all we want we find,

The more we know our wants all hid in Thee;

A friend than brother far more true and kind;

Balm for the bleeding heart, and tortured mind,

Full of divine and human sympathy.

And more than friend Thou art: for when we lay

In our own blood polluted, lost, and dead,

And Justice drew its fiery sword to slay,

And hell exulting waited for its prey,-

Thou gavest up Thy life, and diedst instead.

Jesus' Parting Words in the Guest-Chamber

“Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe
also in Me." -John 16:1

SUCH are the parting words that Jesus said,

When, on the eve of His deep agony,

He saw the objects of His love dismayed:

Words that breathe out His heart's deep sympathy.

He knew what lay before Him; felt it all,

As none, but He Himself, could feel or know,

When wave to wave, and deep to deep, did call,

And all the waterspouts and goods of woe

O'erwhelmed His soul, when He, the Victim, died:

Was ever love than His in hotter furnace tried?

His Father's glory was His first great aim;

For that He came to live-for that to die;

And for His flock He bore the curse and shame,

To bring them to His Father's house on high:

And, when He saw the sorrowing looks of those

Who, taught of God, to Him had fondly cleaved,

He spake not of His own fast-gathering woes,

But sought to cheer them, as they sadly grieved;

And what He said to them, He says to thee,

" Let not your heart be troubled, trust in Me:

“I know the world I leave you in: I came

Not to condemn, or judge it, but to save;

But it has turned My glory into shame;

For all My love, its hatred only gave.

Scorn and reproach, the dungeon and the stake,

If ye are faithful to My name and word,

Shall be the cup ye drink of for my sake;

The fellowship of suffering with your Lord:

I overcame, and you shall conquerors be;

Let not your heart be troubled, trust in Me.”

He knows the tempter's wiles; how he deceived

Man, when he stood in nature's perfectness:

He fell, because he Satan's lie believed;

How can we stand in our own feebleness?

He hated innocence, and sought to make

Man like himself, as wretched and as vile;

His slave and sin's (for if we God forsake,

And call that freedom, we become his spoil):

But against us, whom grace divine sets free,

His hatred burns with full malignity.

He knows thy heart-that treacherous, feeble heart

Which Peter trusted in, when Peter fell;
He fully knows how weak and frail thou art,

Thy path beset with all the snares of hell!
Thou canst not know thy future's joys or woes;

Thou canst not see thy way a step before;

Yet may thy heart in quiet peace repose,-

For Jesus knows it all, and loves thee more

Than tongue can tell; and lo! He says to thee,

"Let not thy heart be troubled, trust in Me:

“I am the Lamb that bore thy sins away;

Peace, perfect peace, I give thee, through My blood.

I am thy light, to guide thee all thy way,

Safe through this world of darkness, home to God:

I am thy Shepherd, what then canst thou want,

The living Bread, the living waters thine?

Let not thy hands hang down, or knees grow faint,

I have redeemed thee, loved thee; thou art mine. '

A little while,' and I will come. for thee:

Let not thy heart be troubled, trust in Me."

Jesus' Prayer

“I pray not that Thou shouldest take them out of the world.”

JOHN 17:15-18.

0 LORD, we know 't were Thy delight

To have Thy saints in heaven with Thee;

To dwell in Thy unclouded light,

And Thine own face in glory see:

Content Thou canst not be, above,

Without the objects of Thy love.

This was the joy before Thee set,

For this Thou didst delight to die;

No toil or suffering count too great,

Too deep no pangs of agony:

Alone for sin Thou wouldst atone,-

Thou wouldst not be in heaven alone.

But now Thy love has left us here

To have sweet fellowship with Thee,

Before we reach that glorious sphere,

Where we shall all Thy beauty see;

"Fellows" with Thee, Thy cross to bear,

Thy cup and baptism to share.

Thy meat it was, when here below,

Thy Father's mission to fulfill;

Through conflict, mockery, scorn, and woe,

Thy one delight to do His will;

And then, in meek obedience, drink

That cup, from which Thy soul did shrink.

It was Thy glory here to prove

How good supreme o'er ill could rise;

Hatred be overcome by love;

And self by Thy self-sacrifice:

Oh, mighty victories of love,

Which e'en than death did mightier prove.

To make us like Thyself, Thy skill

Is hourly molding heart and mind;

Teaching our now responsive will

Its pleasure in Thy ways to find;

Preparing vessels of Thy grace

To fill above our destined place.

Thy hand delights our steps to guide

In Thine own paths of holiest joy;

With grace and strength by Thee supplied,

Thou dost our lips and hands employ;

Thy fellows, in those works of love

Which brought Thee from the realms above.

Thou didst delight to seek the lost,

For sinners Thou didst choose to die;

While Thou alone didst pay the cost,

Thou bid'st us publish, far and nigh,

And, in Thy stead, beseech the foe,

God's reconciling love to know.

Oh, blessed life to live for Thee!

All other gain to count but loss;

What joy Thy followers to be!

What honor to endure Thy cross,

Who didst, by death, Thy friendship prove,-

We ours by our obedient love.

The Cross of Christ

THE Cross, oh, blessed tree!

Incarnate Deity

Hangs there, and bleeds for me.

I love this sacred place,

Where all God's righteous grace

Shines forth in that marred face.

There what I am, I read;

There sin looks sin indeed,

Since He had thus to bleed.

There Truth maintained its word,

While Justice woke its sword

To smite my sinless Lord.

Mercy and peace combine

With righteousness divine,

And all harmonious shine.

But oh, God's perfect love,

All enmities above,

Doth all surpassing prove.

The Cross, oh, blessed tree,-

Love's greatest mystery,-

That won me, Lord, to Thee!

The Grave of Jesus

“O grave, where is thy victory?”

-1 Cor. 15:55.

THE grave! Appalling is the sight,

Chilling the heart with gloom of night,

Shaking the guilty with affright.

The grave, it speaks the reign of sin;

Death's prison, loathsome and unclean;

All full of dead-men's bones within.

The grave, sad end of pain and woe;

The goal of man's short race below,

To which each hour we nearer go.

The grave, insatiate, it devours

The dearest friends of life's best hours;

Naught satisfies its ravening powers.

The grave, oh, pride-abasing spot!

Of poor, and rich, alike the lot,

Where this weak flesh must foully rot.

The grave, who can its power withstand?

Who can deliver from its hand?

Or bid its portals open stand?

The grave,-beyond it all is gloom;

Who has returned here from the tomb,

To tell us of the unseen doom?

Such was the grave till Jesus came;

“The Resurrection" is His name,

Life out of death His lips proclaim.

The grave! To conquer death He dies,

In the dark tomb a Victim lies;

All hell there to detain Him tries.

The grave:-the Lord in triumph rose,

Victorious over all His foes,-

Its chains are gone, with all our woes.

The grave,-no more its vaults we fear,

Redeeming love has entered here;

Radiant with light its gates appear.

The grave: our Lord will soon descend,

His mighty voice its portals rend;

Then shall His saints to heaven ascend.

Oh, what a shout shall pierce the sky,

As from our tombs we upward fly!”

O grave, where is thy victory?”

Jesus, the Life

“I am... the Life."-John 14:6.

LORD, Thou art Life:

The living Son of Him, the living God;

Th' eternal Life; of life the living WORD:

Down to this scene of strife,

Where all with death is rife;

And sin, death's sting, reigns with death, king and lord;

And Satan's iron chain

Fetters man's heart and brain;

Thou didst in living grace and power descend,

The foe of sin and death-the sinner's friend.

Lord, Thou didst die!

The sinless One has sin's dire burden borne;

Hung on the tree of death, midst shame and scorn:

There Thou wast lifted high,

Between the earth and sky,-

By both the veil of mid-day darkness worn.

My Lord, my Life! the flood

Of water and of blood,

That flowed so freely from Thy opened side,

For me was shed-for me, my Life has died.

Lord, Thou didst rise,

First-fruits of all that slept within the grave-

First-born of all the sons Thou cam'st to save.

Vanquished before our eyes

The king of terrors lies;

His sting is plucked; his worst we now can brave:

Thou, Prince of Life, art gone

Back to Thy Father's throne.

Thou dost the Breath of Life eternal give:

Because Thou livest, Lord, we also live.

Night Musings

I LOVE the starlit night,

When all is still;

I love to climb the height

Of some lone hill;

Thence upward gaze,

And watch the rays

Of the bright orbs, that heaven's vast concave fill.

I hear their mighty voice

In my soul's ear;

It bids my heart rejoice

That God is here:

Who spake-'t was done-

Moon, stars, and sun,

To praise His glorious name in heaven appear.

The same almighty power

That holds them all,

Preserves my feet each hour,

From snare and fall:

A worm of dust,

In Him I trust,

And Him my "Abba Father" humbly call.

I love the starlit night,

It tells of Him,

Born as my soul's sure light

At Bethlehem;

With longing eyes,

I watch to rise,

“The Morning Star," when I shall be with Him.

Victory Over Self

I SOUGHT to conquerself, but knew not how;

I asked of man to teach me, but in vain;

All human rules and efforts, like a plow

That skimmed the surface, let the roots remain,
Which, when I thought them gone, sprang up again!

Self cannot cast out self. I 've tried it well.

'Neath the monk's cowl, as well as courtly dress,

In the low cottage you will find it dwell

As rank as in the palace; in distress

And poverty as splendid wealthiness.

One weapon only can its reign destroy;

It is the Cross,-the Cross of Christ alone:

His Cross, who counted it supremest joy,

To leave the glories of His heavenly throne,

And in unselfish love for sin atone.

Self-sacrificing Love! O Jesus! name

Before which heartless selfishness expires,

And selfish pride looks black with hellish shame:

To be like Thee, O Lord, my heart aspires,

And, self to crucify, Thy grace desires.

Oh, glorious victory of heavenly grace!

Man's boasted victories puts on self the crown;

But self falls prostrate low before Thy face:

At Jesus' feet the elders all fall down,

And give to Him the glory and renown.

0 Lord, alas! my progress still is slow,

So hydra-headed is this monstrous ill;

When on the right I seem to lay him low,

Upon the left springs up th' insidious foe;

I smite, and wound him sore, but cannot kill.

But Thou wilt bruise him soon beneath my feet.

Oh, gladsome hour, when I from self am free!

When, all the blessed work of grace complete,

Thou shalt Thy ransomed one in glory greet,-

And all his soul be swallowed up in Thee.

To Me to Live Is Christ

Phil.1:21.

POOR senseless world! How base is every aim

That girds thy loins, and animates thy zeal!

How do thy votaries toil to earn a name

Written in dust of earth, and call it fame;

How many seek in pleasure's giddy reel,

Groveling in swinish mire of basest kind,

What they call joy; while others, more refined,

In graver walks of science seek for bliss,

Or in pursuit of mammon, labor spend;-

Poor is their gain, were there no world but this!

But oh, their madness, since they all must die,

And naked-stript of all-enter eternity!

Not as a cynic does my eye survey

The world's vain idols, or with scornful leer,

As if I better were myself than they,-

Proud self, my idol, if not gods of clay;

But with a humbled heart and grief sincere,

For in their blindness I can see my own:

For I once worshipped gods of wood and stone,

When in the folly of my native bent,

The Fount of living waters I forsook;

O sin, deserving endless punishment!

From the great Whore her golden cup I took,

Whose doom is written in God's righteous book.

Alas! when all my ways the Lord denied,

I still presumptuous bore His holy name;

Called Him my Master, while in daring pride

I loved the sins for which He groaned and died;

E'en midst the heathen this my crimson-shame!

Oh, when I ponder all my guilty ways,

I weep with sorrow, and rejoice with praise,

While at His precious feet I lowly bend.

This now my one desire, myself to give,

Without reserve, to that Almighty Friend,

Whose love gives all, and kindly will receive

My heart's desire, henceforth for Him to live.

Praying and Working

“We will give ourselves continually to prayer, and to the ministry of the Word."-

Acts 6: 4.

THE veil is rent, thou now may'st enter in;

No flaming sword of cherub bars thy way;

He who without the camp once bore thy sin,

Appears within the holiest "to-day,"

And intercedes for all who come by Him to pray.

His blood is sprinkled on the mercy-seat,

His blood is sprinkled, too, before the throne;

Where'er ascend the clouds of incense sweet,

The work of reconciliation all is done;

He lives our great High Priest, who did for sin atone.

Head of the Church,-behold His glorious face,

His members all accepted in their Head;

In Him all fullness dwells of truth and grace

To meet His people's ever-varying need:

Draw nigh by Him to God without one pang of dread.

Prayer is the breath of faith in God's own ears,

Prayer is the open mouth He waits to fill;

Prayer is the voice our heavenly Father hears,

That brings down blessings from His holy hill;

Wisdom to learn, and strength to do His gracious will.

First pray; then work. No work can e'er succeed

That prayerless wit and will to do combine;

All prayerless strength is but a broken reed,

A withered branch that 's severed from the vine:

No fruits, or works of such, shall heaven recorded shine.

Faith always prays, and praying works by love;

God's chronicles record the power of prayer;

His heroes, servants, martyrs, from above

Drew all the sap that made their lives so fair:

There is your full supply, if you like fruitwould bear.

“Praying and working"-life words, full of light,

Prayer without ceasing leads to ceaseless toil;

Not toil that wearies, for His yoke is light

Who feeds the lamp He trims with golden oil;
And His dear workman's strength renews with heavenly spoil.

[Written originally on the fly-leaf of a work called, Praying and Working; a most strengthening and encouraging testimony to the faithfulness of God in hearing and answering prayer, and supplying all the need of those who wait on Him.]

The Difference Between a House and a Home

THERE 'S many a house that is not a home,

Though the fabrics be grand and fair;

And many a cottage which is no home,

With its walls full of strife and care:

'T is not the outward that makes the home,

But the spirit that dwelleth there.

A real home is a pilgrim's tent

Where an altar to God is found;

Where His presence sheds its sweet content

And perfume and peace around;

Where the hearts are knit with the one intent,

That their lives should His praises sound.

A true home on earth is a type below

Of the home in His house of love,

Where the nearest ties human hearts can know,

Are the transcripts of ties above;

And the holy affections from heaven that flow

Are the springs that its inmates move.

Jacob's Dream

GEN. 28

THE night was dark, the desert drear,

And Jacob's heart was sad with fear,

He'd bade his aged sire farewell;

And if again, he could not tell,

His eyes should see his face revered,

Or hers, whose mother's love had cheered

His life from helpless infancy;

From both, alas! he now must flee:

His injured brother's low'ring face,

Where thoughts of blood the eye could trace;

A guilty conscience towards his sire

For that which stirred his brother's ire,

Oppressed him with its heavy load,

And dimmed his confidence in God.

His weary journey, all alone,

The track and dangers all unknown,

The land of promise left behind,

With bitterest thoughts o'erwhelmed his mind.

He laid his staff upon the ground,

A stone he for his pillow found;

And jaded, sorrowful, opprest,

He seeks his aching limbs to rest.

He counts himself of all bereft,-

None near to shield, or cheer him, left;

A stranger, homeless, and forlorn;

Through his own fault so rudely torn

From all he 'd loved from childhood's morn.

He 'd bought the birthright,-that was true;

By craft had got the blessing too:

But, while his faith had valued right

What worthless seemed in Esau's sight,

(Who, in profane and worldly mood,

Despised it for a dish of food,

And left his name in holy pages,

A warning to all future ages),

Supplanter-like, had both obtained,

And sorrows with these treasures gained.

He'd acted with the serpent's guile,

E'en while he chose the better part;

Upon his faith while heaven could smile,

God frowns upon his treacherous art.

* * *

What solemn lessons may we learn

While we ourselves in him discern,-

The Esau and the Jacob life,

The flesh and spirit's constant strife:

How e'en, while faith directs the will,

Evil is ever present still;

The need to watch, the need to pray,

E'en while we tread the heavenward way!

A holy Father is our God;

And chastens, with His faithful rod,

His foolish children, when they stray

From wisdom's straight and narrow way.

If Jacob wander from that road,

He '11 lose communion sweet with God;

For He, who still His Jacob loves,

Can only smile, when He approves,

Though He will ne'er His covenant break,

Though He will ne'er His truth forsake,

Though He will ne'er His promise fail,

Nor let His children's foes prevail:

Though in His everlasting love

His faithfulness shall ne'er remove,

The stripes and scourgings of His rod

Shall prove the holiness of God.

Weary and sad his eyelids close,

In sleep he seeks to lose his woes:

How does the lonely wand'rer miss

His sire's embrace, his mother's kiss;

The "good night," that his filial ear

From childhood's home was wont to hear;

His tranquil couch, his guarded tent,

The slaves to do his will intent!

If any sound now reach his ear,

If aught disturb the silence drear,

'T will be some howl to wake his fear.

He sleeps at last-forlorn, alone,

His aching head upon the stone;

When lo 1 in visions of the night

What heavenly glories meet his sight!

From the cold earth on which he lies,

A ladder reaches to the skies;

Angels of God to earth descending,

Angels of God to heaven ascending:

The upward path to heaven above;

The downward of Incarnate love.

And lo! above it stands the Lord,

By all those angel-hosts adored,

Whose gracious voice, in accents clear,

Thus spoke to Jacob's ravished ear:

“The God of Abram is my name;

In Chaldee I to him appeared;

Guided by Me he hither came,

And in this land my altars reared.

I was his shield, his great reward,

His faithful and almighty Lord;

My covenant with him is sure,

And shall from age to age endure.

Thy father Isaac's God, I am,

And I to thee will be the same:

The land I to thy fathers gave,

Thou shalt for Thy possession have.

Though now alone, cast out, distrest,

More than the dust thy seed shall be;

To north and south, to east and west

Shall spread thy countless progeny.

Lo! I am with thee. I will keep

Thee as the apple of mine eye:

My loving care shall never sleep;

I will thy every want supply.

Back to this land, secure from harm,

I '11 bring thee by My powerful arm;

Nor will I ever thee forsake,

Till all these promises I make

Fulfilled are, for My own name-sake.”

Oh, what an hour of sacred bliss!

What has the world compared with this?

What though his bed be on the ground,

And desolation dark around,

Heaven opens to his wondering eyes,

A way from earth to reach the skies:

Th' angelic hosts are gathered there

To guard him, as salvation's heir.

How rich, how glorious is his lot!

Who nothing has, has all things got!

The land is his by covenant sure,

By promise, that shall aye endure;

But, oh, more blessed still than all,

God He may now His own God call!

And the vast fullness of His name

He now may trust, He now may claim.

In every scene and place and hour,

Love all divine, almighty power,

Wisdom and mercy,-all engage

His head to shield, His woes assuage;

To comfort, to protect and bless

His journeyings through the wilderness:

Whene'er He leans on pilgrim's rod,

Jacob may well trust Jacob's God.

Impromptu

ALL that I've done, and was, and am, below,

Caused my own Lord His agonies and woe:

All that He did, and was, and is, is mine;

My Light, and Life, and righteousness divine:

I was His death upon the accursed tree,

In heaven He lives to intercede for me:

There He prepares my home; and soon in love

He'll come and take me to His rest above.

GOD'S holy fear all slavish fear destroys,

God's holy love all carnal love denies;

His holy joy expels all sinful joys;

His blessing makes us rich, His wisdom wise:

Converse with Him, and pure will be thy talk;

Walk thou with Him, and thou wilt safely walk.

The Valley of Baca

"Who passing through the valley of Baca make it a well; the rain also filleth the pools."-

Psalm 84:6

THE vale of Baca dreary is and wild,

And yet the path of every heaven-born child;

There will not stand before the throne of God

One, who this vale of sorrow has not trod:

Not one who there in vestments white appears,

Whose sleepless couch has not been wet with tears;

No; all have Baca's vale of weeping known:

Through tribulation each has reached the throne.

Ask those who now their palm of victory wave,

Conquerors through Him, who died the lost to save,

If now they murmur at their former lot,

Or wish they had escaped one mournful spot?

No, you would hear each grateful pilgrim tell,

That vale of grief was blessing's richest well;

The pools of trouble, filled with heavenly rain,

Turned into myrtles every thorn of pain.

Think it not strange then, pilgrim, neither faint,

Much less indulge in murmuring and complaint,

If what you meet with in your heavenly road

Is hard to bear; since all is planned by God,

His child to train in wisdom's holy ways,

And form a chosen vessel for His praise.

Now we are slow those ways to understand;

But let us bow beneath His mighty hand,

Sure that His wisdom over all presides,

His power controls, and love unerring guides.

He that adorns the lilies with their bloom,

Gives the frail grass its beauty and perfume,

Watches and feeds the songsters of the air,

Shall He not much more for His children care?

Has not His word and promise faithful stood,

That "all things work together for their good"?

Needed each stroke, and thorn, and sigh, and tear;

Soon shall the needs-be of them all be clear:

Now let us drink the cup, and meekly own,

“Father, not mine, but let Thy will be done!”

“A little while," the desert will be o'er,

The dangers past, the trials felt no more;

From day to day, from strength to strength, we come

Nearer and nearer to our Father's home.

Jesus Himself the weary road has gone;

“The Man of Sorrows" now enjoys the throne;

Himself-Example-Captain-Leader-Guide-

Has ev'ry footstep of the journey tried:

With words of comfort He allures us home,

“Be of good cheer, for I have overcome;

Faint not, but lean in every strait on Me,

My heart is full of grace and sympathy;

That faithful promise for thy buckler take,

Thee I will never, never, ne'er forsake;

Where I am gone, My pilgrims soon shall be,

And all the rest of glory share with Me.”

The hands, that now the pilgrim's staff must hold,

Shall then exchange it for a harp of gold;

The armor doffed, the wedding robe to wear,-

No sword, or shield, or helmet wanted there;

The darkness changed to everlasting light,

Hope to fruition full, and faith to sight:

No serpent's venom, or insidious snare,

No aching heart, no wearied limbs are there;

Our souls shall bask beneath those cloudless skies,

And God's own hand shall wipe our tear-dimmed eyes.

But for one day such bliss divine to taste,

Would make a thousand other days a waste!

Oh, sooner far the lowest place I'd hold

In His fair courts, than palaces of gold;

There would I choose a doorkeeper to be,

Opening for others only; if, for me,

I might look in, and His bright glories see.

Be patient then; with such a rest in view,

Blessed are they who Zion's ways pursue;

Each faithful pilgrim, through His mighty grace,

Shall there appear, and see Him face to face.

He is their Sun, to chase the shades of night,

And cheer their souls with heavenly warmth and light:

“God of all grace," each day's march He'll bestow

The suited grace for all they meet below;

The "God of glory," when their journey 's done,

Will crown with glory what His grace begun.

Rich in the treasures of eternal love,

His watchful goodness all His people prove;

Through time's short day, and through eternity,

"Blest is the man, O Lord, who trusts in Thee.”

All Is Vanity

“Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity!"-

Eccl. 1: 2.

YES, it may sparkle, the festive bowl,

The song of the minstrel sound;

The smiles of beauty bewitch the soul,

And her eyes beam bliss around:

These joys I followed in youth's gay hours;

I sought to gather the choicest flowers,

Of every clime and sky:

Soon as they bloomed their freshness wasted;

The cups were dry as soon as tasted:

'T was Vanity! all Vanity!

The laurel wreath may gird the brow;

But withers even there;

Though it shine with fame and honor now,

'T will be furrowed soon with care:

The monarch's crown may now dazzling gleam,

With the pearl, and the diamond's mingled beam,

Like stars in the cloudless sky;

But it cannot shield from shafts of woe,

It cannot guard from the last great foe:

'T is Vanity! all Vanity!

The poet may strike his golden lyre,

And the nations enraptured stand;

But age soon quenches the poet's fire,

And palsies the minstrel's hand:

And fame at best is a fleeting breath,

Its voice unheard in the vaults of death;

A meteor, it passes by:

How mad to value a thing so frail,

Fickle, and false as the summer's gale!

'T is Vanity! all Vanity!

Thou joyest now with thy bride of youth,

Her beauty and charms delight;

Her fervent love, and her plighted truth,

Make thy happy home shine bright:

This joy I 've tasted,-the sweetest one

That 's left for mortals beneath the suu:-

But thy bride may pine and die;

“The light of thine eyes" be laid in the tomb,

The close of thy life be a night of gloom:

'T is Vanity! all Vanity!

Children may gladden thy fireside now,

With their sunny mirth and glee;

The blooming cheek, and the open brow,

Promise years of joy to thee:

But the sweetest bud may first decay,

The loveliest flower first fade away,

'Neath this world's inclement sky:

Heartless neglect may thy love repay,

When thy strength is spent, and hair is gray:

'T is Vanity! all Vanity!

A voice is heard from th' ivory throne

Of Israel's wisest king,

Who had fully proved, and sought, and known,

The worth of each earthly thing:

“I've quaffed the juice of the choicest vine;

Houses, and gardens, and fields were mine:

And who with the king can vie?

Silver and gold, and the sparkling gem,

I made as stones in Jerusalem,-

'T is Vanity! all Vanity!”

“I gave to my eyes their least desire,

Nor withheld one joy of heart;

Music and song, and the minstrel's fire,

And treasures of skill and art:

Wisdom and madness, folly and mirth,

All good that 's sought for by man on earth,

I gave up my soul to try.

Who can do more than the king has done?

I know all the good that 's beneath the sun:

'T is Vanity! all Vanity!”

Is there, then, nothing here below

To fill the mortal mind?

Can it only drink of the cup of woe,

And illusions and ciphers, find

The bubble’s sparkle, the meteors gleam,

The lightning’s flash, and the morning dream,

And the breeze’s fitful sigh:

Are these the types of all we cherish?

Must all we toil and hope for perish?

All Vanity? all Vanity?

The King of Israel speaks again,

His warnings of wisdom done,

To turn our eyes from this world of pain,

To the regions above the sun:

The preacher was wise; his words were truth;

His proverbs many for age and youth;

Though sharp, they were goads of love,

To awaken souls from the sleep of death,

And seeking a portion in things beneath,

Instead of the joys above:

“The fear of God, and to do His will,

Is the sum of the matter here;

For every work, be it good or ill,

In judgment shall soon appear:”

In the "Song of songs" he would bid us rise

To joys and pleasures above the skies,

All heavenly and divine;

To fountains, gardens,.and pleasant flowers,

The winter past, and perennial bowers,

And "love better far than wine”

Vanity of Vanities!

“NOTHING BUT BLANK.”

Lines in answer to a poetic lamentation in an album, that
"All was a blank, nothing but blank!”

HAVE you found life a "blank"? what! all nothing but "blank"?

I'm sorry, my friend, at your fate:

But perhaps in your ear, if you 're willing to hear,

The cause of your "blanks" I '11 relate.

Suppose you should go to the regions of snow,

To rear there the fruits of the sun;

In vain would you sow, not a seed there would grow,

Naught but "blanks" when your labors were done.

Suppose you should toil to win harvests and spoil

From Afric's hot deserts of sand;

Would you wonder, I trow, if the shares of your plow

Were bootless worn out on such land?

In the lott'ry of life, with its turmoil and strife,

After pleasure, and riches, and rank,

'T is no wonder to find, that an earth-grov’ling mind,

Has found every ticket a "blank.”

Let me ask you to look into Solomon's book,

At the lesson he teaches so plain;

That though all else is "blank," wisdom, riches, and rank,

There are still richest prizes to gain:

For "the fear of the Lord," as revealed in His Word,

Is "Beginning of Wisdom" below;

When this you have tried, though all."blanks" be beside,

A prize beyond rubies you'll know.

I once groaned like you, while proving how true

That all without God was a "blank.;”

Now I sing with delight, both by day and by night,

Since these living waters I drank.

Oh, attend to His voice, and your heart shall rejoice,

It will meet all your troubles so rife;

“Ye hungry ones, come; at My table there's room,

And partake of the banquet of Life.”

Then lift up your eyes, to a home in the skies,

All else with corruption is rank;

And then you '11 agree, my dear poet, with me,

His favor's a prize, not a "blank.”

Heaven's Joy

WILL it be the glory bright

Of those realms of endless light?

Streets all paved with crystal gold,

Gates of pearl of price untold,

Harps, and thrones, and diadems,

Palaces, and costly gems?

No more sorrow, death, or pain,

Meetings ne'er to part again?

Eyes undimmed by any tear,

Peace unruffled by a fear?

All, and more than this, is given,

But 't is not "the joy of heaven.”

One there is, and One alone,

Every ransomed saint will own

As the central fount of bliss;

Heaven were empty without this.

Jesus, Lamb of God, Thou art

Now the center of my heart;

While by faith Thy face I see,

While I live, and feed on Thee

E'en in this sad, weary waste,

Often heavenly joys I taste:

Thou the Joy of Joys wilt be,

Of my heaven's eternity.

The Heart Lost and Won

“I saw in my heart the Lord Jesus," said an Indian to

Brainerd, “and it stole my heart away.”

LONG had I sought, and sought in vain,

Something to fill my heart;

With learned lore I tasked my brain;

Pleasure I tried, and golden gain,

And more attractive art.

But all could never satisfy

The thirstings of my soul;

Earth's broken cisterns soon were dry,

Its feasts were husks, its flowers would die;

O'er all death's knell would toll.

“Oh, who will show me any good?”

My wearied spirit cried:

Phantoms I 'ye long enough pursued;

Labored I have, and earned no food,

Whatever path I tried.

A voice I heard,-a still, small voice,

And yet all-powerful too,

That made my inmost soul rejoice,

As, drawn by love, I fixed my choice

Its counsels to pursue.

“Oh, weary one, to Me draw nigh,

I've rest and peace to give;

Thou poor one, without money

buy Love's wine and milk in rich supply;

Only believe, and live

“I am the Lamb for sinners slain;

My blood shall purge thy sin;

My hands unloose each galling chain;

My life shall make thee live again,

The life of God within.”

I turned, I saw that glorious sight,

The Father's only Son,

The Son of Man, all heaven's delight,

Fountain of grace, and life, and light;

And then my heart was won.

I want 'not riches: rich I am,

Lord, in possessing Thee;

All other glory looks like shame,

Now I am called by Thy name:

Thy name's enough for me

Perennial pleasures now are mine;

My cup of joy runs o'er;

Thy flesh is meat, Thy blood is wine,

Manna and fatness, feast divine:

I hunger now no more.

My heart no longer is my own;

I saw Thee, and 't was given:

'T is Thine, my Lord 't is Thine alone,

And since Thy favor I have known,

I taste the bliss of heaven

Let the Dead Bury Their Dead

(See ECCLESIASTES 1: 2; 8:10.

I 've wandered o'er earth for many a year,

And hunted for pleasure and substance here;

I have tried the forum, and tent, and hall,

And wisdom and folly; I've proved them all;

But the mask and mirage alike have fled:

This earth 's a tomb, where "they bury their dead.”

Where'er I journeyed I heard the sad toll

Knell loud and far the depart of the soul;

I have seen the coffin, and hearse, and pall,

And widows and children were weeping all;

Bitter and scalding the tears that they shed:

This earth 's a tomb, where "they bury their dead.”

I've read the names on the rude, carved stones,

Where moulder to dust the now fleshless bones,-

The babe's, from its mother's fond bosom torn;

The husband's, that left wife and babes forlorn:

The aged and the young, the weak and the brave,

Alike were the prey of the hungry grave.

I have stood in the ancient Gothic, pile,

With its painted lights, and its long-drawn aisle;

I 'ye heard the organ peal forth its numbers,

Where the dust of the rich and noble slumbers;

There were crypts below, and marbles o'erhead:

'T was a tomb where the great "dead bury their dead.”

Ye poets, fetch hither your sweetest lyres,

And waken your dead by their brilliant fires;

Ye sages-ye statesmen-your wit essay

To rob the dark grave of its loathsome prey;

Ye mitered priests, in your ghostly pride,

To exorcise death let your rites be tried!

Ye warriors bold, in your martial skill,

So quick to destroy, and so strong to kill,

Your legions muster, your blades unsheathe;

Your captains release from the hands of death:

Your cheeks grow pale, and your daring is fled;

Your trumpets must wail forth "the march of the dead.”

Poor world,thou art powerless! Before thy great foe,

Thy wisdom, and glory, and might are brought low;

Thy beauty is changed to corruption; his thrust

Turns all thy proud boastings to ashes and dust:

Thou hast naught but to follow thy conqueror's tread,

And do his stern mandate,-dig graves for thy dead.

To a Young Widow

RACHEL, thy heart has early learned to know

How death can sunder life's most tender ties,

And change the brightest joy of Paradise

To deepest shades of agony and woe.

Oh, let thy tears on Jesus' bosom flow!

Jesus Himself has wept, and groaned, and died:

In thy lone anguish keep thee near His side,

Who plucked the sting from our most cruel foe.

He with thy widowed heart can sympathize:

Lean on His arm in all thy night of pain,

Who doth assure thee that thy spouse shall rise;

Thy bitter loss to him is present gain,

And thou shalt soon rejoin him in the skies.

Jehoshaphat's Prayer

“O our God, wilt Thou not judge them? for we have no might against this great company that cometh against us; neither know we what to do: but our eyes are upon Thee.”

2 CHRONICLES 20:12

THEY come! they come! the glittering light

Of their burnished arms shines fierce and bright;

Their banners wave proudly o'er the plain,

Their ranks are thick as the clouds with rain.

Our warriors are few, and our walls are weak,

And terror hath blanched each manly cheek;

Our wives are weeping; our children cry,

“Father, the foe!-the foe draws nigh!”

Ammon and Moab with Seir combine

Against this city and house of Thine;

In crafty counsel Thy foes agree,

Against Thy people, O Lord, and Thee.

O Rock of Ages, to Thee we fly;

To the God of Abra'm we lift our eye:

Thine arm alone can this storm dispel,

The rage and scorn of these heathen quell.

The God of our fathers hears our cry;

In the hour of trouble He 's always nigh.

“THE BATTLE IS His!" is His prophet's word:”

O Judah, trust in your faithful LORD.

“Ye shall not fight, and ye need not fear; '

The Lord of Hosts' is your refuge near.

`Jehovah Nissi ' will fight the foe;

His banner scatter their banners low.”

The singers marched in the van that day:

Their harps and cymbals the Levites play;

The king and army their voices raise

In songs of mercy, and joy, and praise.

The voice of singing begins the fight:

Their foes are filled with amaze and fright;

Against each other they turn the sword,

To fight the battle of Israel's Lord.

Their spears are broken, their banners low;

The rage is hushed of the cruel foe:

The spoils and riches bestrew the plain

Of the mighty hosts in the conflicts slain.

In the vale of Berachah unscathed they stood,

While all around them was wet with blood:

In the vale of Berachah they bless His name,

Who to their succor in mercy came.

CHRISTIAN CHORUS:

Father, forget not Thy children's prayer;

Our enemies mighty and crafty are:

Our hearts are feeble; for help we flee,

In times of conflict, O God, to Thee.

We have no might in ourselves to stand;

We trust alone in Thy powerful hand,

To bring us safe, where our hearts shall raise

Berachah's anthems of loudest praise.

The Watchman's Cry

“Watchman, what of the night?... The morning cometh, and also the night."-

Isaiah 21:12.

“WATCHMAN, what of the night?”

“It is gloomy, and thick, and dark:

Alas! wherever I turn my sight,

And seek for a faithful watcher's light,

I can scarcely discern a spark.

I hear the drunken reveler's cry,

The mocker's taunt, and the skeptic's lie;

But few believe that the Lord is nigh:

All is gloomy, and sad, and dark”

“Watchman, what of the night?”

“It is murky, and chill, and drear:

The lamps erst burning so clear and bright;

The hearts once glowing with warm delight,

At the hope that the Lord was near:

Many are quenched to burn no more;

Few are trimmed, and their luster pour:

Alas! the days of first-love are o'er;

All is murky, and chill, and drear.”

“Watchman, what of the night?”

“Oh, list!-'t is the midnight cry!

It fills the sleepers with joy, or fright;

These cheeks grow pale, and those eyes grow bright!

The Bridegroom, He draweth nigh!

The slumbering virgins from sleep awake;

The wise their lamps fresh-trimmed all take;

The knees of the foolish with terror quake,

At the sound of the midnight cry.”

“Watchman, what of the night?”

“The night is fast passing away;

The Morning-star, with effulgence bright,

Shall shortly burst on our raptured sight,

And usher the longed-for day.

He cometh! He cometh! awake! arise!

Behold! the Day-star illumines the skies;

Ye slumbering virgins, unveil your eyes,

The night is just passing away.”

“Watchman, what of the night?"....

The work of the watchman is o'er:

“The morning 's come, and also the night,”

Eternity's darkness-eternity's light.

' Inquire ye,... inquire ye no more.'

His word is ended, and work is done;

The marriage-supper is now begun;

The conflict over, the victory won:

The work of the watchman is o'er.

The True Spirit of Waiting for Jesus

“It is not he loves the coming of the Lord, who asserts that it is near; or he who asserts that it is not near: but he rather who, whether it be near or afar off, waits for it in the sincerity of faith, the firmness of hope, and the ardor of love.”

-AUGUSTINE.

“TO-DAY OR TO-MORROW.”

“THE dark stream of evil is flowing apace:”

Awake, and be doing, ye children of grace.

Let us seek with compassion the souls that are lost,

Well knowing the price their redemption has cost.

While singing with rapture the Savior's great love,

And waiting for Him to translate us above,”

It may be to-morrow, or even to-night,”

Let loins be well girded, and lamps burning bright.

We 're journeying on to the realms of the blest,

We're nearer each day to our heavenly rest;

But when we reach home, and its regions of joy,

No labors of mercy our hands can employ:

No mourning ones there shall we meet to console,

No wand'rers to rescue, or sick ones make whole,

No weak ones to cherish, no lost ones to find-

These labors of love we shall all leave behind.

The house, and the land, and the wealth in the chest,

Give plenty occasions for ministries blest;

Let 's use them to lessen the lone widow's grief,

To fatherless children give welcome relief;

The doubting and fearful, to them let us bring

Those tidings of mercy that cause us to sing.

Then let us "to-morrow, and even to-day,”

Be true to our mission while down here we stay.

Yes, let us with ardor the Present redeem,-

Our joy and our glory to imitate Him,

The Shepherd, who travailed His lost sheep to save,

And His blood for their ransom on Calvary gave.

Self was never His object; Himself He denied;

For others, each moment, He lived and He died!

We are left here to learn, and to copy His grace,

While He in the heavens secures us our place.

Then, Lord, while my spirit so yearns to get home,

I'd learn to be patient till Thou for us come;

E'en now is my spirit so happy in Thee,

I can bear here to tarry till Thou call for me.

In the patience of hope I will spend Thy delay,

'T would be selfish to wish e'en to hasten the day,

Assured Thy long-suff'ring alone stays the hour

When the "Day of the Lord" shall display its dread power.

My Master! I pray Thee to purge from my breast

All hard, selfish pining for ease and for rest.

Oh, make me delight in Thy service of love,

My heart all responsive to Thy heart above!

The time of my sojourn, how soon it may end!

Instruct me more wisely its "twelve hours" to spend;

That be it "to-morrow, or be it to-night,”

To win Thy approval be still my delight.

The Reigns of Sin, Death, Grace, and Life

“Sin hath reigned unto death.”

“By one offense death reigned by one.”

“Grace reigns through righteousness.”

“Much more they who receive abundance of grace and of the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life, by One, Jesus Christ.” Romans 5

SIN reigns by man; through sin, man God defies;

Sin's usurpations everywhere prevail:

What vile corruptions now provoke ye, skies!

Could he but reach it, man would heaven assail;

Hurl the Almighty from His holy throne,

And reign,-though Satan's vassal,-all alone.

Death reigns by sin-death sinful man defies;

Death's pirate-flag o'er earth triumphant waves:

Boast as man will, insult and dare the skies,

Death digs for all these boasters loathsome graves;

To foul corruption all his glories brings,

To empty skulls, the heads of wits and kings.

Alas! who can sin's mighty empire shake?

Who can set free sin's captives from their chains?

Who can death's iron crown and scepter break,

Since 't was by man sin entered and death reigns?

My soul rejoice-the SECOND MAN appears!

He lives, He dies; He rose! dry up thy tears.

Jesus the wily tempter overcame;

Sin's reign He broke, while yet sin's doom He bore;

E'en unto death obedient He became,

And by His death, death's empire triumphed o'er:

Sin, death, and hell lie bruised beneath His feet;

Grace reigns triumphant on the mercy-seat.

Grace reigns! Abounding grace o'er sin and ill,

Sin's curse annuls, sin's yoke it bursts in twain;

Grace, that subdues to God the proudest will,

And leads us willing captives in its chain;

Grace, that has met all righteousness can claim:-

Its crown of glory, JESIIS,-precious name!

Now it is gain to die, since Jesus died;

Death is no monster since he lost his sting.

I dread him not, yea, long to be untied

From this poor mortal coil: he breaks the string

That keeps me down, and I shall soar above,

To reign in endless life with Him I love.

Glorying in the Lord Jesus

WE glory not as once, in things which gave

Honor and power in this vain-glorious earth;

Where all that seems so glittering and so brave,

The sage's wisdom, and the trifler's mirth,

Alike is hastening to th' insatiate grave;

Now we have tasted joys of heavenly birth,

And found a feast that fills and satisfies;

So large our portion, that we fear no dearth;

Rivers of life, whose source is in the skies,

Fresh from the spring-head of eternal love

Foretastes below of endless joys above.

Poor, empty world, thy baubles we despise!

Now there 's no room in our delighted breast,

Now there 's no craving in our heaven-taught eyes,

For aught, that thy poor votaries deem best:

Our Father's hand our daily wants supplies,

The living Bread and living Wine of heaven:

Shall we return then to the husks, and sties

Of the far country, where, by madness driven,

We dragged a dying life of miseries?

No, at our Father's banquet we recline,

Feed on the fatted calf, and drink of heavenly wine.

We glory now in Him, and in His cross,

Who once appeared so worthless in our sight;

All that seemed gain we now account but loss,

And what seemed day, but error's darksome night:

Our hearts, now drawn by love's attractive force,

In Jesus find their center and their rest;

The sweetest music is Emmanuel's name:

In His rich favor we're so fully blest,

Our lives we 'd spend in telling forth His fame,

Glorying for Him to bear the world's reproach and shame.

Groans

“We that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened.”

2 Cor. 5:4.

OH, how I hourly groan with inward pain,

Oppressed, and burthened with this sinful flesh!

Though living waters oft my soul refresh,

I'm bound, and prisoned with corruption's chain:

I should account e'en death itself a gain;

For from my fetters death would set me free,

Breaking each cord that keeps me, Lord, from Thee:

Washed in Thy cleansing blood from every stain,

How would my raptured spirit soar on high,

With naught to hinder song, or drag me down,

And every tear wiped from my weeping eye;

And Thine own hand my head with life should crown.

Oh, precious fruits of Thy soul's agony,

Whose love the many waters could not drown.

The Apocalypse

REV. 5: 5, 6.

How dark the night around us! Sin and death

Are reigning conquerors o'er this rebel world;

The serpent's trail defiles; and error's breath

Corrupts the very truth that grace unfurled

To rescue man from sin's vile slavery,

And make him, as God's freed-man, truly free.

Alas 1 the name of Christ Himself is used

By those, who call Him Lord, to sanction ill;

The time of God's long-suffering is abused!

Because He smites not, man grows viler still;

“The mystery of iniquity" abounds,

While the false watchman "peace and safety" sounds.

But here we see, in Heaven's unclouded light,

An object hidden from man's earth-closed eyes;

The Lamb, once slain, now raised beyond all height,

His name the theme of all heaven's symphonies:

We hear His praise from harps divinely sweet,

And see the elders worship at His feet.

Oh, how delightsome are the heavenly scenes,

Which John, in Patmos, favored was to view!

The soul, that on the Savior's bosom leans,

Knows in itself that all His words are true;

Breaks out in songs to see the Lamb once slain,

Now crowned in heaven, and soon o’er earth to reign

His coming glories with Himself are ours!

His Bride shall share the honors of His name.

Oh, how this hope the faithful heart empowers

His cross to bear, and smile at toil and shame!

“Lo, I come quickly!" is His last sweet word:

Amen, e'en so; come, quickly come, O Lord.

The Course of Time

“Let us praise Him for the past; let us trust Him for the future.”

“The course of Time!" Oh, can we scan

Its streams since first our lives began;

The past with all its joys and tears,

Its sunny hopes, and cloudy fears;

Nor trust that He, whose tender arm

Hath crowned with good, preserved from harm,

Will never cease our Guide to be,

Through Time and through Eternity?

A few years since, without a guide,

I launched on life's deceitful tide;

My chart despised, my compass lost,

By each temptation tempest-tossed:

Where pleasure's treacherous meteor flashed,

Fearless of ill, I reckless dashed;

And sought-but God and heaven forgot-

For happiness, and found it not.

Thus wandering from my Savior's fold,

In sin and mad rebellion bold;

Lo! suddenly, on Calvary reared

The Cross, the wondrous Cross, appeared;

I saw Emmanuel crucified,

His bleeding hands, His pierced-side;

I felt my sins, I knew my guilt,

For them His precious blood was spilled.

And did my gracious Savior die

For such a sinful wretch as I?

Did He for me God's wrath endure,

My peace and pardon to procure?

Yes, blessed Jesus, Thou alone

For sins, like mine, couldst e'er atone;

Thee will I serve, and Thee adore,

Forever, and for evermore!

But, oh, my heart was cold and weak,

And oft ashamed of Christ to speak;

And, foolish still, the world pursued,

Forgetful of its highest good;

But my kind Shepherd still forbore:

He led me to this sultry shore;

And made this wilderness supply

Those living streams that never dry.

A few months since, His gracious hand

Brought us to this benighted land;

And never will our hearts forget

The happy hours when we first met.

Oh, sweet it was your love to share,

To dwell within your "tent of prayer,”

To speak of Jesus, and to raise

The social voice of prayer and praise!

A few months more! The boist'rous main

Between us will extend again;

But still in spirit we may meet,

And commune at the mercy-seat.

Oh, then remember us in prayer,

That Christ may make our souls His care;

Give us the blessings of His love,

Until we meet in peace above!

A few years more! how sweet the thought!

Each fear dispelled, and safely brought

Life's sea of storms and troubles o'er

To heavenly Canaan's happy shore;

Arrayed in robes of spotless white,

Forever shall our souls unite

To golden harps, divinely strung,

In hymns on earth once feebly sung.

Farewell, dear friends! may He, who gave

His Son, from hell your soul to save,

With Him His richest mercies shed

In showers of blessings on your head.

Oh, may the Sun of Righteousness

Shine ever bright your path to bless;

Your light in death's dark valley be-

Your portion in eternity!

[Lines addressed to my beloved friends, Major and Mrs. O'B-, written in a copy of Pollok's Course of Time, given to them on their departure from India to England, A.D. 1830. Both are now with the Lord.]

Resignation Under Bereavement

“The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away.”

Job 1: 21.

OH, blessed Lord, I fain would be resigned;

I would not murmur, would not e'en repine;

But, with a childlike trust, as one that's blind,

Put my weak hand in that strong hand of Thine,

And let it lead me all my pilgrim days:

For wise and right, I know, are all Thy ways.

O Lord, at times I feel all desolate;

The cup too bitter seems for me to drink,

The loss too heavy,-burden all too great:

From the keen knife I oft-times weeping shrink,

That prunes the branches; though Thy love ordains,

And fruit shall grow from all these needed pains.

Thou dost compassionate, my great High Priest,

Thy heart with mine can fully sympathize;

Though of Thy saints I deem myself the least,

I know I 'm precious in Thy gracious eyes:

Thou hast redeemed me at no less a price,

Than the rich blood of Thine own sacrifice.

O Lord, sustain me! I would learn of Thee,

In Thy Gethsemane, my woes to bear:

Oh, how Thy tears and soul-crushed agony,

Thy sweat of blood, Thy thrice-repeated prayer-

“Father, not will of mine, but Thine be done,”

Have o'er my struggling will the mastery won.

And then Thy sorrows, Lord, were ours, not Thine,

Save as Thy love did make our griefs Thine own;

Ours were the sins, for which Thy grace divine

Brought Thee a willing Victim to atone:

Thou didst the sword of justice once endure,

To make Thy people's full salvation sure.

Oh, blessed Jesus, shall I then complain?

Shall I not meekly kiss Thy Father's rod?
There is no vengeance in the strokes that pain;

Not wrath, but love, directs the hand of God:

He is my Father who afflicts His child;

Shall not my will to His be reconciled?

'T is but "a little while!" I feel I need

This scourge, this bitter cup, this loss, and woe;

Thy balm will heal the wounds that inward bleed,

In Thy best time: but patience, Lord, bestow,

And deep submission to His holy will;

Say to each rising tempest, "Peace, be still.”

I 'm thy poor sheep, my Shepherd, though I've roved,

Alas! so much, and often, from Thy side;
Well mayst Thou break the idols I have loved,

To cause me in Thy presence to abide:

If my best earthly joy Thou didst remove,

It was to teach the fullness of Thy love.

When I am with Thee, I shall comprehend

The end and needs-be of each stroke of pain;

See that Thou wast my wise, unchanging Friend,

All whose rebukes were faithfulness and gain:

Then shall I praise Thee more, and bless the rod,

Which now I humbly kiss, my Savior-God.

Faith's Paradoxes

“Sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing."-2 Cor. 6:10.

I OFTEN weep, yet I am not sad;

Often in sorrow, I yet am glad;

Chastened sore, yet I shall not die;

Poor I am, yet how rich am I!

Naked, but clothed in fairest dress:

Nothing I have, yet I all possess.

Losses and troubles upon me rain;

I count the losses my richest gain:

I am a fool in the world's esteem;

Folly and madness, my choice they deem:

Christ's reproach is my richest prize;

God's folly makes me divinely wise.

I pass through rivers, yet am not drowned;

I walk the waves, as on solid ground;

The hottest fires cannot singe or burn;

The hosts of darkness cannot o'erturn:

While He that dwelt in the bush is near,

And God is with me, what should I fear?

Say, is the devil more strong than God?

Or Pharaoh's scepter than Moses' rod?

Lo! in the river and in the sea,

In the hot furnace, He's still with me;

In the dark valley, and in the grave,

Jehovah-Jesus is strong to save.

Soon shall the weary night be o'er,

The sun will arise to set no more:

Soon shall the winter's cold rain be past,

The turtles be heard in the land at last;

And soon shall the glorious Bridegroom say,

“Arise, my fair one, and come away.”

Oh, what a moment the past will seem

Vanished away, like a troubled dream!

Not worth a sigh will its grief be thought,

When to His presence we 're safely brought;

Praise our employment ceaseless be,

Chiefest among ten thousand He!

To My Mother

“Her children arise up, and call her blessed.”

PROVERBS 31:28.

MOTHER dear, thy words I cherish,

Words though spoken long ago;

Never will their mem'ry perish,

Always dear in weal or woe.

Gray hairs now my years are telling,

Mental powers are fading fast;

But my heart, with fondness swelling,

Loves to linger o'er the past.

Mother dear, that oft I grieved thee

Thy kind, sorrowing looks betrayed;

When by falsehood I deceived thee,

Or thy precepts disobeyed.

Oh, it fills my heart with sadness,

When my follies I retrace:

Thee I should have filled with gladness,

Thee to grieve was vile and base.

Love's own lips alone did chide me;

Love, not passion, used thy rod;
Firm thy rule; thy aim to guide me

In the ways that lead to God:

“Oh, my son, thou must obey me!

God has said it in his word;

Hate it were, not love, to spare thee,

When thou dost displease my Lord.”

Mother dear, thy lips first taught me

To pronounce His blessed name,

Who with His own blood had bought me,

And from heaven to seek me came.

Hymns, and texts, and holy warnings,

Stories sweet of saints of old;

How those beams of childhood's mornings
Fringe life's evening hours with gold!

Oft my fancy sees thee kneeling,

While I slumbered, by my bed;

Thy rapt face thy love revealing,

Seeking blessings on my head:

When in foreign climes residing,

Graven deep thy words remained;

Memory of thy tears abiding,

Oft thy tempted child restrained.

Mother dear, thy prayers, ascended

In that name God loves to hear,

Now in blessings have descended,

On each son and daughter dear;
And their children share the blessing

Of the training thou hast given:

Each by grace, "like faith," possessing,

Hope to meet thee soon in heaven.

A Fragment

[On looking over the pages of an old journal.]

How strange it seems, while turning o'er the leaves

Of an old journal, kept in by-gone days,

To look again upon the distant past;-

The present scenes around us all so changed;

The actors and the imagery all gone,

That then awakened the inmost springs

Of thought and feeling, stirring up the depths

Of the heart's passions; all its hopes and fears,

Its lofty aspirations after good,

And its sad consciousness of inward ill,-

All that excited them to joy or sorrow,

Now gone forever ... ...

Oh, could we live again

Our past life over, with our present ken

Of what is wise, and right, and false, and true;

Of all the hidden dangers in our way;

Of all the wiles that would ensnare our feet,

And cast us down, or mar our gust for good:

How wisely would we tread the mazy path;

And oh, how different would the feelings be,

From what recorded in these tablets lies.

It cannot be. The past is fixed forever:

Each word, and step, and act, whate'er its form,

Unchangeable, unchangeably remains.

It cannot be recalled by all our wishing;

Naught can erase it, naught can modify;

The ill remains, the same remains forever-

How solemn is the thought! Conscience may sleep;

The memory slumber; and forgetfulness,

For a short moment make the past appear

As if it were not: but it sleeps to wake,

And fill the guilty soul with shame and trembling,

And dread forebodings of the judgment-day;

When secret things shall all discovered lie,

In the clear searching blaze of cloudless light.

Oh, who could bear the awful retrospect?

Who dare look forward, were there not revealed

A full atonement made for sin and guilt,

And blotting out the record from the page

Of the great Doomsday Book? How could we meet

The searching light of that omniscient eye,

That sees it all, just as it was, in all

Its naked and unvarnished truthfulness....

The present let us seek to use more wisely,

Before it be the past: and this is wisdom-

Wisdom through past, and present, and to come-

And all beside is but the depths of folly;

To live to Him, whose yoke is light and easy,

Because a yoke lined with eternal love.

The time is short for work; the night is coming,

When we no more can labor for our Master;

No more by suffering, in our path of service,

Our loyalty and faithful zeal approve.

His time of absence is the time of trial;

Earth is the scene for conflict and endurance;

Eternity is long enough for rest.

Now is the time allotted us for labor:

Let us then study to redeem its moments,

And fill them up with deeds of love and duty;

That word of charge still spurring up our spirits,

“Till I come, occupy.”

How soon may be His advent! Are we ready?

Has not the watchman loudly cried at midnight,

“Behold the Bridegroom cometh! Go ye forth

To meet Him, with your lamps all burning clear

And loins with girdles on?" Are we awake?

Are we responding, with our hearts all beating,

“Amen, O Lord; yea, quickly come, Lord Jesus"?

The Tongue

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.”

PROVERBS 18:21.

WHAT power is in the tongue!

“The power of life and death.”

What evils thence have sprung,

Not sparing old or young

With its envenomed breath,

Now the fondest trust betraying,

Now the fairest credit slaying,

Now with cunning serpent art

Stinging the most tender heart,

Truth and justice meanly spurning,

With hot coals of malice burning,

Envy's whisp'rings, fury's ire,

Icy sneers, and satire's gall,

Skeptics' lies, and reas'nings dire:

Though among the members small,

Deadliest weapon of them all!

What power is in the tongue!

“The power of life and health.”

What pleasures thence have sprung,

Cheering the old and young,

What mines of priceless wealth!

Now the tenderest accents pouring,

Now to heaven with praises soaring;

Soothing hours of bitterest pain,

Breaking the oppressor's chain;

Telling forth "the old, old story”

Of the Savior's cross and glory;

Life proclaiming to the dying,

Rest to the sin-burdened heart,

Balm for wounds, and joy for sighing,

Through the good Physician's art.

Well of life! man's greatest glory,

What can be preferred before thee?

Though among the members small,

Noblest member of them all!

Yearning After Souls

LORD, I am happy when I look above;

There 's not a cloud between my soul and Thee:

I rest contented in Thy perfect love,

From all my guilt and condemnation free.

Within the veil, before the throne of grace,

Boldly I enter-by Thy precious blood;

I see God's glory in Thy unveiled face,

And drink of life the pure and crystal flood.

But when I look around me, oh, how dark

Is the wide ocean of man's stormy life!

I see with horror many a found'ring bark,

Sharp rocks, deep quicksands, with strewed fragments rife;

Beacons there are, and many a lighthouse blaze

To warn of dangers in the murky gloom:

But on they drive, all reckless of their ways,

And sink by thousands in th' insatiate tomb.

Lord, I would lift my feeble voice on high,

And bid the giddy multitudes attend;

Warn them the hour of judgment draweth nigh,

And show the gulf to which their footsteps tend:

Fain would I tell them there 's no arm to save

But thine, O Lord, the Lamb once slain for sin;

Point to Thy birth and death, Thy cross and grace;

Thy love's self-sacrifice their hearts to win.

Lord, I would tell them Thou art seated now

At God's right hand, victorious over all;

Honor and glory crown Thy sacred brow,

While at Thy feet exulting myriads fall:

Highly exalted,-but a Savior's name,

The name of JESUS, is Thy highest boast;

That name Thou bid'st us through the earth proclaim,

Thy greatest glory is to save the lost.

Oh, let Thy Spirit all my powers inspire

To preach salvation, present, full, and free:

Open my lips-bestow a tongue of fire,

A heart of love, in fellowship with Thee.

Give me to see with faith's clear, eagle eye,

The unseen worlds, with all their weal and woe:

With Thee-eternity of bliss on high;

Without Thee-night, eternal night, below.

I want to learn the value of one soul:

One soul that 's saved,-one soul forever lost,

By pondering well its everlasting goal,

And more than all, what Thee its ransom cost.

Oh, let Thy Cross be e'er before my sight;

Teach me its endless wonders more to know:

Sin's righteous wage, Love's all-surpassing might,

That I may far and wide Thy praises show.

Parting Words to a Young Christian

WHILE my sad heart breaks forth in many a sigh,

As on I wander through this vale of tears,

To see men spend in toil and vanity,

Youth's early bloom, and manhood's riper years;

Stopping their ears in madness to His voice,

Who fain would win them by His holy love;

It oft has made me, my dear child, rejoice

To see thee far from earth's vain joys remove;

And know thy youthful heart to Him is given,

Whose favor here the foretaste is of heaven.

Six years I've watched thee with a prayerful heart,

And joyed in all thy parents' happiness

To see thee early choose the "better part,”

Is more to them than if thou didst possess

Golconda's riches; the same precious faith

Which dwelt in them, and in their parents too,

Has made thee triumph in thy Savior's death,

And opened heaven to thine enraptured view;

Revealed the Lamb upon the Father's throne;

His death, His life, His crown, HIMSELF, thine own.

I may not see thy face on earth again;

My course is nearly ended-thine, begun:

Wilt thou, dear child, by my experience gain,

And learn, by me, some rocks and shoals to shun?

“Love not the world!" it crucified thy Lord;

Dread its beguilements, but its hatred bear.

Feed day and night upon the living Word;

Trust HIM with all thy heart; of self beware:

In every crooked path the serpent fear;

But follow where HE leads, and keep Him near.

Be not content, unless thy Lord approve;

Let that suffice, though others scorn or blame:

Be not content, unless His living love

Warm thy young heart with all its holy flame.

Ah! there are many snares for pilgrim-feet;

Many vile foes intent to cast thee down:

Wait thou with boldness at the mercy-seat.

He says, who cheers thee with the promised crown,

“My grace sufficient is, thy soul to bless;

My strength made perfect in thy feebleness.”

Love Is of God

“The greatest of these is charity."-1 COR. 13: 13.

LOVE is of heaven, the holy flame

To kindle which the Savior came;

His life, His lips, His sufferings, prove

The ardor of His fervent love.

LOVE is of faith the genuine fire,

Its lightest flames to heaven aspire;

But with a warm and genial glow

It brightly shines on all below.

LOVE is of grace the hallowed reign,

Without it all our gifts are vain:

Our title best as saints we prove,

By hearts, and deeds, and lives of love.

LOVE is the golden chain, that binds

In union sweet believing minds:

Its holy links can ne'er be riven,

It reaches down to earth from heaven.

LOVE, holy love, shall ever last,

When all terrestrial scenes are past;

Its native home, the world above:

For heaven is God's, and GOD IS LOVE!

The Hymn of Zuinglius

THE SWISS REFORMER.

“Ma porte s'ouvre,

Et c'est la Mort;

Ta main me couvre,

Mon Dieu, mon fort.”

I HEAR loud knocking at my door:

It opes. 'Tis Death! He stands before

My startled sight; that dreaded foe

Against me bends his fatal bow.

My shield, almighty Savior, be,

With Thy strong hand still cover me.

For me, O Jesus, Thou hast died:

For me, Thou once wast crucified:

Death Thou hast tasted for my sake:

Thy wounded hand stretch forth, and break

That sword which sorely pierces me,-

My tortured soul I cast on Thee.

Lord, not my will, but Thine be done!

If, in my life's meridian sun,

When girded 'gainst the gates of hell,

Thy flock to guard, Thy truth to tell,

Thy voice's call from earth I hear,-

Behold me, Jesus, I am here.

For if I die, I still am Thine,

The purchase of Thy love divine

Living I wish to live for Thee:

Dying, Thy own I still shall be,

And through the marvels of Thy grace,

Depart to see Thee face to face.

=============================

I call. Alas! I call in vain....

He hears not, while I thus complain:

My ills increase; with deeper gloom

Before me, nearer yawns the tomb;

And all my sins in black array

Affright with anguish and dismay.

Death nearer draws. His breath I feel,

My vision fails; my senses reel;

My voice expires; the stifling breath,

And icy, clammy grasp of death

Body, and mind, and soul benumb;...

O Savior, help-my hour is come

Sin, death, and hell are marshalled here,

They crush with overwhelming fear;

Their fiery darts, like storms of hail,

My conscience and my faith assail;

I hear the devil's taunting cry,

“Soul, thou art mine."-Lord, must I die?

=============================

The conflict 's past; my foes are fled;

Death, sin, and hell have vanished:

Before His cross I laid me down;

With Jesus I was left alone:

His blood has made my terrors cease,

His voice has hushed my soul to peace.

The Time Is Short

A MARRIAGE SALUTATION TO A FRIEND.

“The time is short: it remaineth, that they that have wives be as though they had none.”

-1 Cor. 7: 29.

"The time is short." Let not this warning prove

A cloud to dim the sunshine of your love;

It was not meant by Him, who joys to bless,

E'en for an hour to damp your happiness.

He, who Himself the feast at Cana graced

With His own presence, and the best wine placed

To cheer the guests upon the festal board,

Would rather gladden by this needed word.

“The time is short:" my children, spend it well;

As "heirs of life" together seek to dwell.

Helpmates in following Jesus may you prove,

Yielding yourselves as captives to His love.

Your union with each other serve to show,

As more and more you in His likeness grow,

Your closer union with your risen Head;

And His dear presence its sweet perfume shed

O'er all your conversation in your home,

As pilgrims waiting till the Bridegroom come.

"The time is short" for joy or suffering here;

Soon shall the morning without clouds appear:

“The little while" He tarries still, redeem-

Your motive, aim, and end to live to Him.

In heaven there'll be no cross for Christ to bear,

No sufferings with your blessed Lord to share;

No souls to win from error's devious maze;

No works of grace to show your Father's praise.

Now is the time, and, oh, how short the hours,

Those fruits to bear no plants can yield but ours!

Soon, when transplanted to a brighter sphere,

We '11 lose th' occasions that He gives us here,

In this drear wilderness of sin and woe,

The fruitful power of heavenly love to show.

Gird up your loins together for the fight;

Trim well your lamps; give no uncertain light;

Boldly your banner lift; confess His name:

That you are His let all your ways proclaim;

Your home, His home; your Lord, and yet your Guest,-

By Him protected, with His favor blest:

Cheered by His smiles, may you more fully prove,

As time flows on, the sunshine of His love;

When time is o'er, that love divine shall be

Your mutual portion through eternity.

Home, Home, Sweet Home!

HOME, precious word! what makes its very sound

Cause a quick thrill of pleasure through my breast?

It is that there the dearest ties are found,

The hearts on whose tried faithfulness we rest.

The world can give us smiles, and words, and looks,

That soon dry up like summer's shallow brooks:

At home we find affections true and strong,

From the soul's inmost depths they flow life's course along.

“Father and mother," home's first lisping sounds,

Taught our young lips in tender infancy;

“Father and mother," how the heart rebounds,

When echoed back by children on our knee!

The past with all its holiest earthly ties,

Its most unselfish, native sympathies,

Makes present home-scenes softer, mellower shine,

Just as if spring's fresh tints with autumn's should combine.

Alas! that weeds should ever choke the soil

Where such fair plants of Paradise should grow;

That discord should invade, and death should spoil,

And bosoms ache and scalding tears should flow;

That tones should e'er be heard, and scowlings seen

Fit for hell's darkness,-words like daggers keen,

Where only love's sweet music should be heard,

Its beaming smiles, and true affection's kindly word!

Home! home! sweet home; what memories it recalls

Of sunny hours, and forms, and faces bright!

Sweet songs, that jocund made its happy walls,

And words and looks that filled me with delight.

Alas! the past the present makes more drear;

The house remains, but gone the inmates dear;

And the dark portals of the silent tomb

Are closed on her, who made the sunshine of my home.

When I commenced this lay, I little thought,

Ere my pen closed my then rejoicing strain,

Death would invade my home, and bring to naught

My dearest joys, and fill my cup with pain;

How with a stroke my Father would remove

The fondest object of my earthly love,

And bid me now a lonelier stranger roam,

Seeking no rest, but in His own celestial home.

The Voyage of Life

ON A GALE AT SEA.

LOUD howls the gale, and the heavens are dark,

But swift o'er the waves scuds our fast-sailing bark:

Her path through the billows is circled with foam,

But the harder it blows, she the fleeter flies home.

'T is thus with the Christian: afflictions may cloud,

And darken life's sunshine with gloom like a shroud;

The waves of temptation around him may rise,

And storms of adversity blacken the skies;

But the gale drives him swifter o'er life's troubled sea,

To the haven of rest, where his heart longs to be;

And the waves, that around him so fearfully swell,

Bear him fast to the home which his soul loves so well.

His compass is faith, and his chart is the Word,

His pole-star the Cross of his now risen Lord;

His anchor is hope; his affections the sail,

That he spreads up aloft to the favoring gale.

And soon shall life's perilous voyage be run,

Its dangers be over, the harbor be won;

Where tempests assail not, where conflicts all cease,

And he'll anchor secure in the haven of Peace.

The Difference Between Obstinacy and Firmness

To stand by error, and the truth refuse;

To close the eyes against unwelcome light;

The crooked paths, through prejudice, to choose;

For one's own will, and thoughts, and ways to fight;

To fear to have the sleeping conscience stirred,

By letting in truth's quick and searching ray;

When ignorance to knowledge.is preferred,

And dull obscurity to heavenly day:

By marks like these is stubborness descried,

Offspring of foolish selfishness and pride.

To stand by truth, to suffer loss and pain

Rather than swerve from duty's sacred way;

To count reproach an honor; suffering gain,-

Endured, because we will God's will obey;

Ne'er to abate one jot of what is right,

Though crowds deride or flatter, smile or frown;

To brave the dungeon, rack, or tyrant’s might;
Or, harder still, refuse a proffered crown:

This is true FIRMNESS, such as Heaven approves,

The noble steadfastness our Father loves.

Impromptu

THE PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE.

THE past may awaken a sigh,

When we think on our life's former ways;

Unworthy, alas! of His love,

Whose grace should adorn all our days;

The future on earth may be drear,

Though it end in the glories of heaven:

Let the present be spent in His praise,

Who the past has so freely forgiven.

On the Choice of a Name for a Child

TO CHRISTIAN PARENTS.

WHAT is a name? you ask. Names show the heart:

In vanity and pride most names have a part,-

Self to exalt and please, man's favorite aim,

When on his offspring he bestows a name;

Tickled by fancy, or mere pleasing sound,

Or other reasons equally profound,

Too many parents gratify their ear

With names that heaven cannot love to hear.

He, by whose sovereign choice, and gracious love,

Was named each family in heaven above

And earth beneath, before the world began,

Reveals in each some beams of light to man.

The chosen father of the promised seed

Who should meet all the ruined sinner's need,

He calls him "Abraham"-"exalted" he,

The father of a multitude should be,

More numerous than the starry hosts on high

When not a cloud obscures the Syrian sky,

More than the sands upon the ocean's shore

Where its proud waves delight to break and roar.-

That halting pilgrim, leaning on his rod,

He calls him "Israel"-mighty prince with God,

In honor of that faith that would not yield,

Or without blessing quit the wrestling field.

Faith gave its pregnant names in days of old;

The giver's heart those early names unfold:

First in the line we love the name of "Eve;”

While o'er their fall and ours their children grieve,

Sin's dreadful entrance in a world so fair

Whose fearful reign, alas! is everywhere;

Yet we delight to hear how mercy's voice

E'en, in the hour of judgment, could rejoice;

Speak of the coming seed, the woman's child,

By whom God's attributes are reconciled,

The serpent's head is bruised, the gloomy tomb

And all death's awful horrors overcome.

He who had named her Isha, when first made

In loveliest bloom of innocence arrayed,

-"Bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh," was she,

The twain but one in closest unity,

Alas! his tempter had through guile become,

Partaker of his guilt, and shame, and doom;-

Now grasps the promise in his hour of woe,

Her seed shall conquer their obdurate foe,

Shall bruise his head, the' bruised his heel should be,

By death should death destroy, and set us free:

He gives her now another brighter name,

“Eve" (life), whose very utterance should proclaim

In every hour of darkness and of woe,

Life in the midst of death, and victory o'er the foe.

Then " Seth + appears, the appointed "substitute,”

Of all our peace and hopes the promised root,

Who as our surety all our guilt endured,

And our eternal happiness secured.

“Enoch" (devoted), he, who walked with God,

And passed, unscathed by death, to heaven's abode;

“Isaac,"-we laugh, our sorrow changed to joy,

At birth of Him whose death did death destroy.

But time would fail, did I in feeble verse

Faith's numerous names endeavor to rehearse;

Let me but mention now the glorious name

God gave His Son, when He in mercy came

Sinners to rescue from their awful fall,

JESUS, the noblest, peerless name of all!

Highest in heaven, sweetest name on earth,

Announced to Mary ere His wondrous birth,

By angels praised when in the manger laid

The holy Babe in swaddling clothes arrayed,

They to the shepherds of the Savior spoke,

Born to deliver from th' oppressor's yoke.

JESUS! Where'er He journeyed here below,

All found in Him the balm for every woe:

What thousands flocked His words of life to hear,

What thousands did His works of mercy cheer!

That name I read nailed o'er Him on the tree,

Jesus, the Savior, crucified for me;

In heaven exalted high o'er every name,

Its matchless worth all tongues with joy proclaim;

On earth how sweet to all our heaven-taught hearts,

What joy and liberty its sound imparts!

The weary hears, and finds therein his rest;

The wretched hears, believes it, and is blest;

It cheers the contrite, cures the venomed smart

That sin inflicts in many an aching heart:

Since the glad hour I learned its power to know,

I've found its solace every hour of woe,-

A sweetness, and a freshness, and a joy,

Time cannot pall, nor life nor death destroy.

JESUS! the name the Father loves to own,

What power it has before th' eternal throne!

Through it our feeblest prayers accepted rise

In its sweet cloud of incense to the skies:

While here we love its sovereign grace to tell,

And others win the Savior's ranks to swell,

E'en through eternity we'll still proclaim

On golden harps our JESUS' glorious name.

Has prayer been heard, and God in answer given

A precious babe to train it up for heaven?

Wilt thou not choose for it a suited name,

Pleasing to Him from whom this blessing came,

Such as the Shepherd would Himself approve,

For the dear lamb, the object of His love?

Look up to Him for guidance in thy choice

Of some such name as will contain a voice

Whene'er you mention it to Him on high,

Or to your bosom call your darling nigh;

Some name that will awake some cord of love,

And your glad heart to thankful praises move.

“God gave my child, from Him this blessing came,

And to His praise I gave my child this name.”

The Book

"The Book!" Oh, Book of Books! Oh, Word of Words!

The only Book whose title is "The Lord's.”

Thy theme, "the Truth," "the Light," "the Life," "the Way,”

That leads from darkness to eternal day;

Thy mission, as thy subject, all divine,

Like heaven's bright sun, on every land to shine,

Where'er the guilty sons of Adam dwell,

Wherever reigns the power of death and hell:

To chase the darkness, and dispel the gloom,

To tell of victory o'er the yawning tomb,

Of the vast ransom for redemption paid,

The full, the rich atonement Jesus made,

When, bearing sin upon the accursed tree,

He died from guilt and judgment man to free.

"The Book," that opens heaven to our sight,

Reveals the Son of Man in glory bright,

At God's right hand exalted, till the day

He comes to take His Church from earth away,

To share His kingdom, and enjoy His love

Forever in His Father's house above.

“The Book," oh, blessed Book! what thousands there

Have found relief from anguish and despair!

The lost it tells of pardon full and free,

For such as I am, and for such as thee:

The pilgrim reads of heaven's bright repose,

And, full of hope, forgets his daily woes:

The tempted, suited promises console;

And pastures green refresh the hungry soul.

The mourner streams of richest comfort finds;

Wisdom divine illumes inquiring minds,

That, with a childlike meekness, at the feet

Of Jesus sit, to learn its lessons sweet.

What secrets hidden lie in every page;

What light it throws on every byegone age!

The future there, from mortal eye concealed,

Is to the servants of the Lord revealed.

Oh, how refreshing to the heart that sighs

O'er all th' unnumbered woes that meet the eyes,

And cause the sympathetic tear to flow

For all that sin and death have wrought below,

To search this blessed Book! for there we see

Grace reigns supreme to set the captive free.

Its mission, wide as human sin and need:

Oh, may we all combine its course to speed!

Herald of mercy to a ruined world,

Banner of peace to rebel man unfurled,

To north, to south, to eastern climes, and west,

The Book its message speeds, and still is blest.

The Afric reads, the Indian, bond and free,

The savage and the wise. O'er land and sea,

Mountain and vale,-in city, village, mart,

In every language, Book of Books, thou art:

God's mighty voice of grace, and truth, and life,

His balm for broken hearts, healer of strife

'Tween God and man, the harbinger of peace,

Bidding the tempests of the conscience cease.

Courtesy of BibleTruthPublishers.com. Most likely this text has not been proofread. Any suggestions for spelling or punctuation corrections would be warmly received. Please email them to: BTPmail@bibletruthpublishers.com.

Hymns and Sacred Poems