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"Every plant which my heavenly Father hath not
planted shall be rooted up,'
The Folly of Atheism,
Light from Religion,
Love to God,
Herbert Knowles. 260
Mrs. Barbauld. 267
Sir J. E. Smith. 268
E. T. 270
Mrs. Barbauld. 271
Sabbath Days-Modernized from "Son-Dayes," in
Vaughan's "Silex Scintillans,"
Bernard Barton. 271
The Spiritual Law-Deut. xxx. 11—14,
The Happiness of the Godly,
The Cross of Christ,
"God is Love," .
The Creator's Works,
J. Bowring. 276
Hymn-"It is I; be not afraid," Sir James E. Smith. 278
Love of God,
To a Butterfly resting on a Skull,
A Thought on Death,
The Widow of Nain,
The Autumn Evening,
Wallace. 279 Thompson. 279 Cowper. 283 Caroline Fry. 284
Mrs. Barbauld. 286
TABLE OF FIRST LINES.
A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun,
A mother's love-how sweet the name,
And is there care in heaven? and is there love,
A Parish Priest was of the pilgrim train,
At the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
Begin, my soul, the exalted lay!
Blessed be thy name for ever,.
Blessed state! and happy he,
Brighter than the rising day,
Bright be the skies that cover thee,.
Build'st thou on Wealth?-its wings are ever spread, 241
But who shall see the glorious day,
Child of the dust, I heard thee mourn,
Come, Disappointment, come!
Creature of air and light,
Few are thy days, and full of wo,
From early childhood, even, as hath been said,
God is our refuge and defence,
God moves in a mysterious way,
God of the earth's extended plains!
Go, take the wings of morn,
Grace does not steel the faithful heart,
Group after group are gathering, such as prest,
Heave! mighty ocean, heave!
Here, in a little cave,
He sung of God, the mighty source,
He who delights to trace, with serious thought,
How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flower,
How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps,
How shall I praise thee, Lord of light?
How sweetly flow'd the Gospel's sound,
How sweet, upon this sacred day,
How sweet and solemn, all alone, How wither'd, faded, seems the form, "Humility," said Lena, as she drew,
I am monarch of all I survey,
It is not that my lot is low,
It must be sweet in childhood to give back,
I seek the mountain cleft: alone,
Is there a time when moments flow,
It is the one true Light,
It thunders! sons of dust, in reverence bow!
I will not sing a mortal's praise,
King of the world! I worship thee, .
Knell of departed years, .
Leaves have their time to fall,
Let deepest silence all around,
Look on him-through his dungeon grate,
Lord, who art merciful as well as just,
My mother's voice! how often creep,
Nay, William, nay, not so; the changeful year,
O, could the soul oppress'd with care,
O'er Kedron's stream, and Salem's height,
Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
O, the wrath of the Lord is a terrible thing!
O Thou whom eye hath seen not-nor shall see,
O Thou Great Being! what thou art,
O! would you be assured you love your God,
Praise waits in Zion, Lord, for thee,
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,
Sad and slow was the wanderer's tread,.
Sad, solitary Thought, who keep'st thy vigils,
Salt of the earth! ye virtuous few,
Say not the law divine,
Shall man, to sordid views confined,
She said she was alone within the world,
Spirit of spirits! who, through every part,
Sweet bird, again that plaintive strain,
Sweet is the scene when virtue dies,
Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? &c.
Swift the tempest strips the wood,
Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear,.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,.
The autumnal winds had stripp'd the field,
The bird, let loose in eastern skies, .
The clouds! the clouds! they are beautiful,
The groves were God's first temples. Ere man learn'd,
The heavens, O Lord, thy power proclaim,
The hour, the hour, the parting hour,
The melancholy days are come, the saddest, &c.