There is a tongue in every leaf, There's not a star whose twinkling light, These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, These, as they change, Almighty Father, these, The Spirit breathes upon the Word, 283 The scene was more beautiful far, to my eye, 189 The trumpet's voice the Sabbath of the Jubilee, &c., 197 The voice of nature, yea, the voice of God, 227 85 Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, 150 Thou thy stern robe of terrors hast put on, 216 Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme, 'Tis but one family! the sound is balm, "'T is from the Lord," the humbled monarch cried, To-morrow!-mortal, boast not thou, 77 105 270 235 172 231 234 'T was Eve's pensive twilight, the valley was gray, 68 'Twas summer, and a Sabbath eve, 185 Types of eternal rest-fair buds of bliss,. 271 Vital spark of heavenly flame, 191 Warriors and Chiefs! should the shaft or the sword, 132 Weep, mourner, for the joys that fade, When faith and love, which parted from thee never, 167 When, marshall'd on the nightly plain, When the dangerous rocks are pass'd, 134 When, thoughtful, to the vault of heaven, 129 When the radiant morn of creation broke, 147 When thou art in thy chamber, and thy knee, 231 228 Where shall the child of sorrow find, 70 Where then may Peace erect her steadfast throne? 59 221 22 95 41 Ye are fair, ye are fair; and your pensive rays, 144 205 SABBATH RECREATIONS. THE GOOD SHEPHERD. As the good shepherd leads his sheep And, while a-fold by night they sleep So the True Shepherd, Christ, our souls doth guide, Great Shepherd! do we know thy voice, Is thy safe fold our rule and choice, From bondage free? Upheld by faith the obedient sheep shall stand, "And none shall pluck them from thy Father's hand." But O! what mortal tongue shall sing Thy wondrous love? Death could not with his threaten'd sting Conqueror of death, and pledge of life to rise, Joy of the earth, and heir of subject skies. Shepherd! with joy we hear thy call Let none from that salvation fall, But, as thy sacred records long foretold, 66 CHRISTMAS HYMN. No moon hung o'er the sleeping earth; It was "the music of the spheres," The song of seraphim. But there were those, in Judah's land, The starry glory; and there came "To God be glory! for, this day, A BRANCH that ne'er shall know decay :- Shall grace the brows of one whom ye For, him hath God raised up, to be The Savior of mankind. "To God be glory! Peace on earth! For, with this infant Savior's birth THE FUTURE LIFE. How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps When all of thee that time could wither sleeps For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, In the resplendence of that glorious sphere. |