Had'st thou not chosen of thyself to tell,
As in thy Gospel thou hast done; nor less, By condescending in our hearts to dwell;
Could man have ever found to thee access, Or worshipped thee aright in spiritual holiness.
No! for the utmost that we could have done,
Were to have raised, as Paul at Athens saw,
Altars unto the dread and unknown One,
Bending before we know not what with awe;
And even now, incrusted by a law
Holier than that of Moses, what know we
Of thee, the Highest? Yet you bid'st us draw
Near thee in spirit: Oh, then pardon me,
If in this closing strain, I crave a boon of thee.
It shall be this: Permit me not to place
My soul's affections upon the things of earth, But conscious of the treasures of thy grace,
To let them, in my inmost heart, give birth To gratitude proportioned to their worth;
Teach me to feel that all that thou hast made Upon this mighty globe's gigantic girth,
Though meant with filial love to be surveyed, Is nothing to thyself;-the shadow of a shade.
If thou hast given me, more than unto some,
A feeling sense of Nature's beauties fair,
Which sometimes renders admiration dumb,
From consciousness that words cannot declare
The beauty thou hast scattered everywhere;
Oh, grant that this may lead me still, through all
Thy works, to thee! nor prove a treacherous snare
Adapted those affections to enthral
Which should be thine alone, and waken at thy call.
I would not merely dream my life away
In fancied rapture, or imagined joy;
ADVANTAGES OF AFFLICTION.
HILE over life's wide darkling plain
Unheeding as we roam,
Through many a path of joy and pain,
God leads his children home.
And though sometimes in prospect viewed,
The winding way seems dark and rude;
Ah! who the backward scene hath scanned,
But blessed the Father's guiding hand.
ORD! when dejected I appear,
And love is half absorbed in fear,
E'en then I know I'm not forgot, --
Thou'rt present, though I see thee not;
Thy boundless mercy's still the same,
Though I am cold, nor feel the flame;
Though dull and hard my sluggish sense;
Faith still maintains its evidence.
O would thy cheering beams so shine,
That I might always feel thee mine!
Yet though a cloud may sometimes rise,
And dim the brightness of the skies,
By faith thy goodness I will bless;
I shall be safe, though comfortless.
Still, still my grateful heart shall melt,
At what in brighter days I felt.
O wayward heart! thine is the blame,
Though I may change, God is the same.
Not feebler faith, nor colder prayer,
My state and sentence shall declare.
Nor nerves nor feelings shall decide;
By safer signs I shall be tried.
Is the fixed tenor of my mind
To Christ and righteousness inclined?
For sin is my contrition deep?
For past offences, do I weep?
Do I submit my stubborn will
To him who guides and guards me still?
Then shall my peaceful bosom prove
That God, not loving is, but Love.
"He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds."— Ps. cxlvii. 3.
THOU who driest the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,
If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to thee!
The friends who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;
And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone;
But thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.
When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And even the hope that threw
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears
Is dimmed and vanished too!
Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy wings of love
Come brightly wafting through the gloom,
One peace-branch from above?
Then sorrow, touched by thee, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day.
"For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin."-HEB. iv. 13.
HEN gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few;
On Him I lean, who, not in vain,
Experienced every human pain;
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.
If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way,
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do,
Still He, who felt temptation's power,
Will guard me in that dangerous hour.
If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe-
At once, betrayed, denied, or fled
By those who shared his daily bread.
When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;
Yet He, who once vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.
When mourning o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend,
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;
Thou Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.
And oh! when I have safely past
Through every conflict but the last;
Still, still, unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed-for thou hast died:
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.
HE Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain:
His blood-red banner streams afar!
Who follows in his train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe.
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in his train!
The martyr first, whose eagle eye,
Could pierce beyond the grave;
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on Him to save.
Like Him with pardon on his tongue
In 'midst of mortal pain,
He prayed for them that did him wrong!
Who follows in his train?
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