Hath she not then, for pains and fears,
The day of wo, the watchful night,
For all her sorrows, all her tears,
An over-payment of delight?
"Cease here longer to detain me,
Fondest mother drown'd in wo;
Now thy kind caresses pain me;
Morn advances--let me go.
See yon orient streak appearing,
Harbinger of endless day,
Hark! a voice, the darkness cheering,
Calls my new-born soul away!
Lately launched, a trembling stranger,
On the world's wild boist'rous flood;
Pierc'd with sorrows, tossed with danger,
Gladly I return to God.
Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee,
Now my trembling heart find rest:
Kinder arms than thine receive me;
Softer pillow than thy breast.
Weep not o'er these eyes that languish, Upward turning toward their home: Raptur'd they'll forget all anguish, While they wait to see thee come.
There, my mother, pleasures centre,
Weeping, parting, care, or wo,
Ne'er our Father's house shall enter,
Morn advances-let me go.
As through this calm, holy dawning,
Silent glides my parting breath,
To an everlasting morning,
Gently close my eyes in death.
Blessings endless, richest blessings,
Pour their streams upon thy heart!
Though no language yet possessing,
Breathes my spirit ere we part.
Yet, to leave thee sorrowing rends me,
Though again His voice I hear;
Rise! may every grace attend thee;
Rise! and seek to meet me there."
RICHARD CECIL.
"SORROW NOT, EVEN AS OTHERS WHICH HAVE NO HOPE."
If death my friend and me divide,
Thou dost not, Lord, my sorrow chide,
Nor frown my tears to see;
Restrained from passionate excess,
Thou bidst me mourn in calm distress,
For them that rest in thee.
I feel a strong, immortal hope,
Which bears my mournful spirit up
Beneath its mountain load;
Redeem'd from death, and grief, and pain,
I soon shall find my friend again,
Within the arms of God.
Pass the few fleeting moments more,
And death the blessing shall restore,
Which death hath snatched away:
For me, Thou wilt the summons send,
And give me back my parted friend,
In that eternal day.
CHARLES WESLEY.
Reflected on the lake I love
To see the stars of evening glow,
So tranquil in the heaven above,
So restless in the wave below.
Thus heavenly hope is all serene;
But earthly hope, how bright soe'er,
Still flutters o'er the changing scene,
As false, as fleeting, as 'tis fair!
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