My son the wanderings of thy way
It is not mine to trace,
Through sprightly youth's exulting day,
Or manhood's bolder race:
What discipline thy heart may need,
What clouds may veil thy sun,
The eye of God alone can read—
And let his will be done.
Yet might a mother's prayer of love
Thy future years control;
Those boasted gifts that often prove
The ruin of the soul;
Beauty and fortune, wit and fame,
For thee it would not crave, But tearful urge a fervent claim To joys beyond the grave.
O! be thy wealth an upright heart,
Thy strength the sufferer's stay,
Thine early choice that better part
Which cannot fade away;
Thy zeal for Christ a quenchless fire,
Thy friends the men of peace,
Thy heritage an angel's lyre,
When earthly changes cease.
"If we live in the Spirit, let us walk in the Spirit." Gal, v. 25.
SPIRIT of God! descend upon my heart;
Wean it from earth, through all its pulses move;
Stoop to my weakness, mighty as Thou art,
And make me love Thee as I ought to love.
I ask no dream, no prophet ecstacies,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay :
No angel visitant, no opening skies;
But take the dimness of my soul away.
Hast thou not bid us love Thee, God, and King? All, all thine own-soul, heart, and strength, and
I see thy cross-there teach my heart to cling:
O let me seek Thee, and oh! let me find.
Teach me to feel that Thou art always nigh;
Teach me the struggles of the soul to bear,
To check the rising doubt, the rebel sigh;
Teach me the patience of unanswered prayer.
Teach me to love Thee as thine angels love,
One holy passion filling all my frame;
The baptism of the heaven-descended Dove,
My heart an altar, and thy love the flame.
THE DEAF, DUMB, AND BLIND GIRL.
No page of friendship, or of love,
Must breathe soft language o'er her heart;
Nor that blest book, which guides above,
Its message to her soul impart.
But Thou who didst on Calvary die,
Flows not thy mercy great and free?
Thou who didst rend of death the tie,
Is any grief too strong for thee?
And Thou, oh Spirit pure! whose rest
Is with the lowly contrite train,
Lighten the darkness of her breast,
And cleanse of every ill the stain;
The change's vastness who can tell?
When from the ear its seal shall part,
Where countless lyres seraphic swell,
And holy transport thrills the heart;
When the chain'd tongue, forbid to pour
The broken melodies of time,
Shall to the highest numbers soar
Of everlasting praise sublime:
When those dark eyes, which ne'er might trace The features of their kindred clay,
Shall see, of Deity, the face,
And glow with rapture's deathless ray.
Who in rough garments clad, and locust-fed-
Cried to the sinful multitude, and claim'd
Fruits of repentance with the lifted scourge
Of terror and reproof. A milder guide,
With gentler tones, doth teach the listening throng,
Moved with a kind compassion as he saw
The shepherdless and poor.
Noon hasted, and the lengthening shadows brought
The unexpected eve. They lingered still,
Eyes fix'd, and lips apart: the very breath
Constrain'd, lest some escaping sigh might break
The tide of knowledge, sweeping o'er their souls,
Like a strange, raptured dream. They heeded not
The spent sun closing in the distant west
His burning journey. What was time to them,
Who heard, entranced, the eternal Word of Life?
But the weak flesh grew weary,-hunger came,
Sharpening each feature, and to faintness drain'd
Life's vigorous fount. The holy Saviour felt
Compassion for them. His disciples press,
Care-stricken to his side: "Where shall we find
Bread in this desert ?"
He bless'd and brake the slender store of food,
And fed the famish'd thousands. Wondering awe,
With renovated strength, inspired their souls,
As, gazing on the miracle, they mark'd
The gathering fragments of their feast, and heard Such heavenly words as lip of mortal man
Thou, whose pitying heart
Yearn'd o'er the countless miseries of those
Whom thou didst die to save, touch thou our souls
With the same spirit of untiring love.
Divine Redeemer, may our fellow man,
Howe'er by rank or circumstance disjoin'd,
Be as a brother in his hour of need!
"He beheld the city and wept over it."-Luke xix. 41.
DID Christ o'er sinners weep,
And shall our cheeks be dry?
Let floods of penitential grief
Burst forth from every eye.
The Son of God in tears!
The angels, wondering, see:
Hast thou no wonder, O my soul?
He shed those tears for thee.
He wept that we might weep
Over our sin and shame;
He wept to show His love for us,
And bid us show the same.
Then tender be our hearts,
Our eyes with sorrow dim,
Till every tear from every eye,
Be wiped away by Him.
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