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Oh! star which led to Him, whose love Brought down man's ransom freeWhere art thou?-'midst the host above,

May we still gaze on thee?

In heaven thou art not set,

Thy rays earth may not dim ;

Send them to guide us yet,

Oh! star which led to Him!

CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST.

"But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves; for the wind was contrary."

St. Matthew, xiv. 24.

FEAR was within the tossing bark,

When stormy winds grew loud;
And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bow'd.

And men stood breathless in their dread,

And baffled in their skill

But One was there, who rose and said
To the wild sea, "Be still!"

And the wind ceas'd-it ceas'd!-that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;

The troubled billows knew their Lord,

And sank beneath his eye.

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CHRIST STILLING THE TEMPEST.

And slumber settled on the deep,

And silence on the blast,

As when the righteous falls asleep,
When death's fierce throes are past.

Thou that didst rule the angry hour,

And tame the tempest's mood

Oh! send thy spirit forth in power,
O'er our dark souls to brood!

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride,
Thy mandates to fulfil-

Speak, speak to passion's raging tide,

Speak and say "Peace, be still!"

CHRIST'S AGONY IN THE GARDEN.

He knelt the Saviour knelt and pray'd,

When but His Father's eye

Look'd through the lonely garden's shade,
On that dread agony!

The Lord of all, above, beneath,

Was bow'd with sorrow unto death.

The sun set in a fearful hour,

The skies might well grow dim,

When this mortality had power

So to o'ershadow Him!

That He who gave man's breath might know,
The very depths of human woe.

He knew them all-the doubt, the strife,

The faint, perplexing dread,

The mists that hang o'er parting life,
All darken'd round His head!
And the Deliverer knelt to pray—
Yet pass'd it not, that cup, away.

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CHRIST'S AGONY IN THE GARDEN.

It pass'd not-though the stormy wave
Had sunk beneath His tread ;
It pass'd not-though to Him the grave
Had yielded up its dead.

But there was sent Him from on high
A gift of strength, for man to die.*

And was His mortal hour beset
With anguish and dismay?

-How may we meet our conflict yet,

In the dark, narrow way?

How, but through Him, that path who trod?

Save, or we perish, Son of God!

*

"And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him."

St. Luke, xxii. 43.

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