How he draws comfort from the gracious words
Of his Redeemer: "Blessed is the man
Who suffereth persecution for the sake
Of righteousness; for heaven itself is his."
Cheer'd by his Saviour's promise, how his soul
Soars upward! how he plies his much loved task,
Reckless of torture, and the blood-stained sword
Of unrelenting bigotry! He bears
In mind the great Creator's first command,
"Let there be light," and lo, his task is done :
Now lettest thou, thy servant, Lord, depart
In peace, and holy triumph; for his eyes
Have seen the sacred volume shed its light
Upon his native land. England, the Word
Of life is thine! O prize it as thou ought'st,
And venerate the name of him whose hand,
Dauntless, first gave it to his parent land.
WHO ASKED THE AUTHOR TO WRITE SOME LINES FOR A FIGURE OF TIME.
MAY she for whom these lines are penned,
By using well, make Time her friend;
Then whether he stands still or flies,
Whether the moment lives or dies
She need not care,-for Time will be
Her friend throughout eternity.
THE moon is up! How calm and slow
She moves above the hill!
The weary winds forget to blow,
And all the world lies still.
The way-worn travellers with delight, The rising brightness see, Revealing all the paths and plains, And gilding every tree.
So once on Judah's evening hills,
The heavenly lustre spread,
The gospel sounded from the blaze,
And shepherds gazed with dread.
And still that light upon the world
Its guiding splendour throws;
Bright in the opening hours of life,
But brighter at the close.
The waning moon, in time, shall fail
To walk the midnight skies,
But God hath given us a light,
That never, never dies.
LINES FOR A SUMMER-HOUSE.
A SHELTER from the rain and wind,
A shade from scorching heat
A resting place you here may find,
To ease your weary feet.
Enter, but with a serious thought,
Consider who is near;
This is a consecrated spot,
THE LORD is present here.
Is Jesus to your heart revealed,
As full of truth and grace;
And is His name your hope and shield,
Your rest and hiding-place?
If so, for all events prepared,
Whatever storms may rise,
He whom you love will safely guard,
And guide you to the skies.
But if his name you have not known,
Oh seek Him while you may!
Lest you should meet his awful frown
Upon the judgment-day.
UNSKILFUL he to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,
More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.
In sacred duty prompt at sorrow's call,
He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all.
And as a bird each fond endearment tries,
To tempt her new-fledged offspring to the skies
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds and led the way.
At church with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place :
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran;
E'en children followed with endearing wile,
And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed,
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
THE VOICE OF GOD.
"And he said, I heard thy voice in the garden, and was afraid."-Gen. iii. 10.
AMIDST the thrilling leaves, thy voice,
At evening's fall drew near :-
Father! and did not man rejoice
That blessed sound to hear?
Did not his heart within him burn
Touched by the solemn tone?
Not so!-for never to return,
Its purity was gone.
Therefore, midst holy stream and bower,
His spirit shook with dread,
And called the cedars in that hour,
To veil his conscious head.
Oh! in each wind, each fountain-flow,
Each whisper of the shade,
Grant me, my God, thy voice to know,
And not to be afraid.
THE RESURRECTION.
THE darkest clouds give lightnings birth,
The pearl is formed in ocean's bed;
The seed unperishing in earth
Springs from its grave as from the dead.
So shall the bodies of the just,
In weakness sown, be raised in power;
The precious seed shall leave the dust,
A glorious and immortal flower.
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