COMFORT UNDER AFFLICTION.
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe;
At once betray'd, denied, or fled,
By those who shared his daily bread.
When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismay'd, my spirit dies;
Yet He who once vouchsafed to hear
The sick'ning anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.
When mourning o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend;
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For thou didst weep o'er Laz'rus dead.
And O, when I have safely pass'd
Through every conflict but the last,
Still, still, unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed,—for Thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.
WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved,
Out from the land of bondage came,
His father's God before him moved,
An awful Guide in smoke and flame.
By day, along the astonish'd lands,
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia's crimson'd sands
Return'd the fiery column's glow.
There rose the choral hymn of praise,
And trump and timbrel answer'd keen:
And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays
With priests, and warriors' voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,
Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
Our fathers would not know Thy ways,
And Thou hast left them to their own.
But present still, though now unseen,
When brightly shines the prosp'rous day,
Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen,
To temper the deceitful ray!
And O, when stoops on Judah's path,
The shade and storm, and frequent night;
Be Thou, long-suff'ring, slow to wrath,
A burning and a shining light.
Our harps we left by Babel's streams, The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn; No censer round our altar beams,
And mute are timbrel, trump, and horn. But Thou hast said, "The blood of goat, The flesh of rams I will not prize; A contrite heart, an humble thought. Are more accepted sacrifice."
Vanity of the World.
AH! why should this immortal mind,
Enslaved by sense, be thus confined,
And never, never rise?
Why thus amused with empty toys,
And soothed with visionary joys,
Forget her native skies?
The mind was form'd to mount sublime,
Beyond the narrow bounds of time,
To everlasting things!
But earthly vapours cloud her sight,
And hang with cold oppressive weight
Upon her drooping wings.
The world employs its various snares,
Of hopes and pleasures, pains and cares,
And chain'd to earth I lie :
When shall my fetter'd powers be free,
And leave these seats of vanity,
And upwards learn to fly?
Bright scenes of bliss, unclouded skies,
Invite my soul-O could I rise,
Nor leave a thought below!
I'd bid farewell to anxious care,
And say to every tempting snare,
"Heaven calls, and I must go."
Heaven calls! and can I yet delay-
Can aught on earth engage my stay?
Ah! wretched, lingering heart!
Come, Lord, with strength, and life, and light, Assist and guide my upward flight,
And bid the world depart.
Chere is a World we have not seen.
THERE is a world we have not seen,
Which cruel Time shall ne'er destroy;
Where mortal footstep hath not been,
Nor ear hath caught its sounds of joy.
There is a region lovelier far
Than sages tell or poets sing;
Brighter than summer beauties are,
And softer than the tints of spring.
It is all holy and serene,
This land of glory and repose: And there, to dim the radiant scene, The tear of Sorrow never flows.
It is not fann'd by summer gale,
'Tis not refresh'd by summer showers,
It never needs the moonbeam pale,
For there are known no evening hours.
In vain the philosophic eye
May seek to view the fair abode, Or find it in the curtain'd sky
It is the dwelling-place of God.
|