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CLXXXII.

As when the weary trav’ller gains
The height of some o'er-looking hill,
His heart revives, if 'cross the plains,
He eyes his home, though distant still —

While he surveys the much-loy'd spot, He slights the space which lies between; His past fatigues are now forgot, Because his journey's end is seen:

Thus, when the Christian Pilgrim views
By faith his mansion in the skies,
The sight his fainting strength renews,
And wings his speed to reach the prize:

The thought of home his spirit cheers,
No more he grieves for troubles past;
Nor any future trials fears,
So he may reach his home at last.

“'Tis there,” he says, “ I am to dwell
With Jesus in the realms of day;
Then shall I bid my cares farewell,
And He shall wipe my tears away!”

Jesus, on Thee our hope depends,
To lead us on to thine abode;
Assur'd our home will make amends
For all our toil while on the road.

CLXXXIII.

WHAT sinners value, I resign;
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine:
I shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.

This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere;
When shall I wake and find me there?

O glorious hour! O blest abode !
I shall be near and like

my

God! And flesh and sin no more control The sacred pleasures of the soul.

My flesh shall slumber in the ground
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound :
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour's image rise.

XII.

MISCELLANEOUS.

CLXXXIV.

RELIGION walks not in the noonday blaze,
With pedant pomp, that giddy men may gaze;
Her's is the soul sincere- the bashful heart:
She moves in silence through life's noisy mart.
Humility informs her mien divine,
And calm retirement is her holy shrine.
She goes not forth plumed in audacious pride,
With canting affectation by her side:
But those her gentle spirit would reclaim
From folly's mazes, and the path of shame,
She bears in prayer to Him, whose glorious part
It is to change as well as rule the heart :
And, by her meek example, strives to teach
Where vanity would prompt to stand and preach !
Nor will she e'er to slander condescend :
She veils the feelings which she cannot mend,
A friend to all that heart must ever prove,
Whose every thought and feeling still is love,
And still her gentle step will linger near
The spot which misery moistens with a tear :
When her soft hand, unknown to all, may pour
The cordial to disease, and health restore;
Or, under cloud of night, while luxury sleeps,
And penury alone his vigil keeps,

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