He speaks-and lo! the softest tears
Of deep contrition flow.
He knows to bend the heart of steel,
He bows the loftiest soul;
O'er all we think and all we feel,
How matchless his control!
And ah! how precious is his love,
In tenderest touches given;
It whispers of the bliss above,
And stays the soul on heaven.
From mind to mind in streams of joy,
The holy influence spreads;
'Tis peace, 'tis praise, without alloy,
For God that influence sheds.
Dear Lord, to thee we still will pray,
And praise thee as before;
For this, thy glorious gospel day,
Teach us to praise thee more.
THINE earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love.
But there's a nobler rest above;
To that our lab'ring souls aspire,
With ardent pangs of strong desire.
No more fatigue, no more distress,
Nor sin nor hell shall reach the place;
No groans to mingle with the songs,
Which warble from immortal tongues.
No rude alarms of raging foes,
No care to break the long repose;
No midnight shade, no clouded sun,
But sacred, high, eternal noon.
Oh, long-expected day, begin,
Dawn on these realms of woe and sin;
Fain would we leave this weary road,
And sleep in death, to rest with God.
'Tis my happiness below,
Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour's power to know, Sanctifying ev'ry loss :
Trials must, and will befal;
But with humble faith to see
Love inscrib'd upon them all,
This is happiness to me.
God in Israel sows the seeds
Of affliction, pain, and toil;
These spring up and choke the weeds
Which would else o'erspread the soil.
Trials make the promise sweet;
Trials give new life to pray'r;
Trials bring me to his feet,
Lay me low and keep me there.
Did I meet no trials here,
No chastisement by the way;
Might I not, with reason, fear
I should prove a cast-away?
Some may perchance escape the rod,
Sunk in earthly vain delight;
But the true-born child of God,
Must not, would not, if he might.
LOOKING UPWARDS IN A STORM.
Gon of my life, to thee I call,
Afflicted at thy feet I fall;
When the great water floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail.
Friend of the friendless and the faint!
Where should I lodge my deep complaint ?
Where, but with thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?
Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner's plea?
Boes not the word still fix'd remain,
That none shall seck thy face in vain ?
That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst thou not hear and answer pray'r;
But a pray'r-hearing, answering God
Supports me under every load.
Fair is the lot that's cast for me;
I have an advocate with thee;
They whom the world caresses most,
Have no such privilege to boast.
Poor though I am, despis'd, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not;
And he is safe, and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.
WHEN darkness long has veil'd my mind And smiling day once more appears; Then, my Redeemer, then I find
The follies of my doubts and fears.
Straight I upbraid my wand'ring heart,
And blush that I should ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part,
Or harbour one hard thought of thee.
Oh! let me, then, at length be taught
What I am still so slow to learn,
That God is love, and changes not,
Nor knows the shadow of a turn.
Sweet truth, and casy to repea! ;
But when my faith is sharply try'd,
I find myself a learner yet,
Unskilful, weak, and apt to slide.
But, O my Lord, one look from thee
Subdues the disobedient will;
Drives doubt and discontent away,
And thy rebellious worm is still.
Thou art as ready to forgive,
As I am ready to repine;
Thou, therefore, all the praise receive,
Be shame and self-abhorrence mine.
THE CHRISTIAN'S PROSPECT.
HAPPY the soul whose wishes climb
To mansions in the skies!
He looks on all the joys of time
With undesiring eyes.
In vain soft pleasure spreads her charms,
And throws her silken chain;
And wealth and fame invite his arms,
And tempt his ears in vain,
He knows that all these glittering things Must yield to sure decay;
And sees, on Time's extended wings
How swift they fleet away!
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