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Or if perchance a sadden'd heart

That once was gay and felt the spring, Cons slowly o'er its alter'd part,

In sorrow and remorse to sing,

Thy gracious care will send that way

Some spirit full of glee, yet taught To bear the sight of dull decay,

And nurse it with all pitying thought;

Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild

As evening blackbird's full-ton'd lay, When the relenting sun has smild

Bright through a whole December day.

These are the tones to brace and cheer

The lonely watcher of the fold, When nights are dark, and foemen near,

When visions fade and hearts grow cold.

How timely then a comrade's song

Comes floating on the mountain air, And bids thee yet be bold and strong

Fancy may die, but Faith is there.


Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. Revelations vii. 3.

WHY blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind,

Now every leaf is brown and sere,
And idly droops, to thee resign’d,

The fading chaplet of the year ?
Yet wears the pure

aerial sky
Her summer veil, half drawn on high,

Of silvery haze, and dark and still
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill.


How quiet shews the woodland scene !

Each flower and tree, its duty done,
Reposing in decay serene,
Like weary men when age

Such calm old age as conscience pure
And self-commanding hearts ensure,

Waiting their summons to the sky,
Content to live, but not afraid to die.

Sure if our eyes were purg'd to trace

God's unseen armies hovering round, We should behold by angels' grace

The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound, Their downward sweep a moment staid On ocean cove and forest glade,

Till the last flower of autumn shed Her funeral odours on her dying bed.

So in thine awful armoury, Lord,

The lightnings of the judgment day Pause yet awhile, in mercy stord,

Till willing hearts wear quite away Their earthly stains; and spotless shine On every brow in light divine

The Cross by angel hands impress'd, The seal of glory won and pledge of promis'd rest.

Little they dream, those haughty souls

Whom empires own with bended knee, What lowly fate their own controuls,

Together link'd by Heaven's decree ;As bloodhounds hush their baying wild To wanton with some fearless child,

So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes, Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies.

Think ye the spires that glow so bright

In front of yonder setting sun, Stand by their own unshaken might ?

No—where th' upholding grace is won, We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell, But sure from many a hidden dell,

From many a rural nook unthought of there, Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing prayer.

On champions blest, in Jesus' name,

Short be your strife, your triumph full, Till every

heart have caught your flame, And lighten’d of the world's misrule Ye soar those elder saints to meet, Gather'd long since at Jesus' feet,

No world of passions to destroy, Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise

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and joy.


O GOD of Mercy, God of Might,
How should pale sinners bear the sight,
If, as Thy power is surely here,
Thine open glory should appear?

For now thy people are allow'd
To scale the mount and pierce the cloud,
And Faith may feed her eager view
With wonders Sinai never knew.

Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice
The world's Creator bleeding lies,
That man, his foe, by whom He bled,
May take him for his daily bread.

O agony of wavering thought When sinners first so near are brought ! “ It is my Maker—dare I stay? “ My Saviour-dare I turn away ?”

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