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In peril from thy friends,
That in thy bosom glows;
Hast thou no Father's house,
Beyond this pilgrim scene,
Yet not a mother's care
Who for her infant sighs,
Transcends the love divine,
The welcome full and free, With which the glorious King of Heaven, Will stretch his arms to thee,
When thou with contrite tear
Shalt wait within his walls, Imploring but the broken bread That from his table falls.
No more his mansion shun,
THE PENITENT'S RETURN.
My father's house once more, In its own moonlight beauty! yet around, Something amidst the dewy calm profound, Broods, never marked before!
Is it the brooding night,
Is it the shivery creeping on the air,
All solemnized it seems,
And still, and darken'd in each time-worn hue, Since the rich clustering roses met my view, As now, by starry gleams.
And this high elm, where last
I stood and linger'd-where my sisters made Our mother's bower - I deemed not that it cast So far and dark a shade!
How spirit-like a tone
Sighs through yon tree! My father's place was
At evening hours, while soft winds waved his
hair! Now those
gray locks are gone!
faint with fear:
I tremble where I move
the voice of God
Is in the foliage here!
Is it indeed the night
That makes my home so awful? hearted!
"T is that from thine own bosom hath departed The inborn gladd'ning light!
No outward thing is changed;
Only the joy of purity is fled,
And, long from nature's melodies estranged,
Therefore, the calm abode,
By thy dark spirit, is o'erhung with shade: And, therefore, in the leaves the voice of God Makes thy sick heart afraid!
The night-flowers round that door, Still breathe pure fragrance on the untainted air; Thou, thou alone art worthy now no more To pass, and rest thee there.
And must I turn away?
Hark, hark! —it is my mother's voice I hear
I caught the sound!
the deep, the mild
Oh! blessed tone of love
Take back the lost and found!
RESURRECTION OF LAZARUS.
"Then Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met him; but Mary sat still in the house."
- John xi. 20.
ONE grief, one faith, O sisters of the dead!
Was in your bosoms- thou, whose steps, made fleet
By keen hope fluttering in the heart which bled, Bore thee, as wings, the Lord of Life to greet; And thou, that duteous in thy still retreat Didst wait his summons-then with reverent love Fall weeping at the blest Deliverer's feet, Whom e'en to heavenly tears thy woe could
And which to Him, the All Seeing and All Just Was loveliest, that quick zeal, or lowly trust?
Oh! question not, and let no law be given
II. "Then said the Jews, 'Behold, how he loved him!" John xi. 36.
"SEE how he loved!" exclaimed the Jews,
See how he loved, who travelled on
See how he loved, who, firm, yet mild,
See how he loved, who never shrank