Though faith and hope may oft be tried,
I ask not, need not, aught beside;
How safe, how calm, how satisfied,
The soul that clings to thee!
Blest is my lot, whate'er befall:
What can disturb me, what appall,
Whilst as my rock, my strength, my all,
Saviour! I cling to thee?
ART thou a pilgrim, and alone,
Far from the home once called thine own?
From friendship's faithful bosom wrested,
In stranger hands thy comforts vested,
Thy life a cheerless wintry day
Unlit by sunshine? - Rise and pray!
Smiled on thee once the bliss of earth,
And glittering joys of transient worth?
Hast thou adored some idol shrine,
Or bent has many a knee at thine?
Faded these creatures of a day,
What hast thou left? Arise and pray!
O, hast thou, driven by deepest woe,,
Thy soul's sure refuge learned to know?
.And every storm of life would meet
Beneath the sheltering mercy-seat?
Whether in youth or life's decay,
Thy lot is blest-thou lov'st to pray?
But haply thou, even thou, hast found
Religion's consecrated ground
With sorrows and with snares beset;
Which, though the Almighty Sufferer met
To conquer, we must yet obey
His welcome mandate Rise and pray!
O, mournful lot to mortals given,
Might not the wingéd thought to heaven,
Amidst opposing myriads rise
To claim its refuge in the skies! 'Where is thy God?' whilst mockers say, To him mounts up the soul to pray!
Though, mingled in one bitter draught,
Thou every earthly woe hast quaffed;
Around, though enemies prevail,
And darts from cherished friends assail;
These, but in image faint portray
His griefs, who bids thee - Rise and pray!
Even should that direst hour be thine,
When in the darkening heavens no sign
Must meet the adverse hosts of hell,
O, never cast the hope away,
While thou canst lift thy heart to pray.
With tears, with bitterest agony
The Saviour wrestled, soul! for thee,
Ere he could all triumphant rise
To plead the accepted sacrifice :
So, till the world shall pass away,
Shall stand his words - Arise and pray!'
In the morning will I direct my prayer to thee. Psalm 5: 3.
To prayer, to prayer! - for the morning breaks, And earth in her Maker's smile awakes.
His light is on all below, above,
The light of gladness, and life, and love.
O, then, in the breath of the early air,
Send upwards the incense of grateful prayer.
To prayer!—for the glorious sun is gone,
And the gathering darkness of night comes on.
Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows,
To shade the couch where his children repose.
Then kneel, while the watching stars are bright,
And give your last thoughts to the guardian of night.
To prayer!-for the day that God has blessed
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest.
It speaks of creation's early bloom;
It speaks of the prince who burst the tomb.
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers,
And devote to heaven the hallowed hours.
There are smiles and tears in the mother's eyes,
For her new-born infant beside her lies.
O, hour of bliss! when the heart o'erflows
With rapture, a mother only knows.
Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer;
Let it swell up to heaven for her precious care.
There are smiles and tears in that gathering band, Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand.
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,
As the bride bids parents and home, farewell!
Kneel down by the side of the tearful fair,
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer.
Kneel down by the dying sinner's side,
And pray for his soul through him who died.
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow
O, what is earth and its pleasures now!
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?
Kneel down at the couch of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in his eye that upward bends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air;
For his last thoughts are God's, his last words, prayer.
The voice of prayer at the sable bier!
A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer.
It commends the spirit to God who gave;
It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave;
It points to the glory where he shall reign,
Who whispered, Thy brother shall rise again.'
The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious king,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise;
And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.
Awake, awake, and gird up thy strength
To join that holy band at length.
To him who unceasing love displays,
Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise,
To him thy heart, and thy hours be given;
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven.
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