But sudden death is sudden bliss to those
Who watch and pray, as their great Saviour taught;
Transition quick from sorrow, pains, and woes,
To peace and joy, beyond all mortal thought.
O, happy he, who in his secret heart
Waits ready for the signal to depart!
A faithful minister of gospel truth,
His life enforcing what his precept drew;
Friend of the poor, a tender guide to youth;
To Christ's example, like a christian, true;
In God's own house, before his people's eyes,
His doom goes forth, he bows his head-and dies!
Ah! 'twas a sad, surprising, mournful sight,
Well might his loving hearers weep and sigh;
But O, to him that momentary flight,
That instant passage far beyond the sky,
For ever with his Saviour God to dwell,
Was full of joy, no heart, no tongue can tell.
And those dear ones whom he has left behind
To struggle yet a little while below,
When resignation's calm has soothed the mind,
Will feel a holy joy displace their wo!
Yes-joy-for such a death was a bright sign,
A sure and certain proof of love divine.
We honor those who die as die the brave,
Slain on the battle field with sword in hand,
We raise the trophied marble o'er their grave,
The storied tribute of a grateful land.
Shall he unsung, and unremembered lie,
The soldier of the cross-the herald of the sky?
There stands his monument, the spot from whence
He lov'd to tell of pardon, peace, and joy,
The blessings of salvation to dispense,
And preach that hope time never can destroy;
And many a heart embalms his honored name
With more than minstrel's song, and more than warrior's fame!
"JESUS WEPT."-John xi. 35.
And did the God who gave us breath,
Weep at a guilty mortal's death?
Yes, o'er the grave where Laz'rus slept,
We read in Scripture, "Jesus wept."
Yes, "Jesus wept" o'er Laz'rus dead,
For sinful man, those tears he shed;
His heart was touch'd at human grief,
His hand administer'd relief.
And will he now less pity shew,
To us, while wand'ring here below?
Oh no! my soul, he hears on high
The mourner's pray'r, the sinner's cry.
Jesus, the Mighty and the Just,
Before whose face we are but dust;
Before whose pow'r ev'n kings must bend,
Still condescends to be our friend.
Whatever trouble may befall,
Jesus will sympathize in all,
For ev'ry pain will send a cure,
Or teach us calmly to endure.
When all my earthly friends are gone,
And I am left to weep alone,
I shall not dull and lonely be,
Lord, if I find a Friend in Thee.
Hypericum Perforatum. This flower belongs to the 18th class.-Polyadelphia, and is found in woods, thickets, and hedges, in July. Its petals are five, of a rich golden yellow; the leaves are in cross pairs, oblong, with several black dots near the edges on the under side. In former days a number of superstitious ceremonies were practised on the eve, and the day of St. John, with this flower. Some of these are, it is said, still followed on the continent, especially in Lower Saxony. From its bearing the name of "that disciple whom Jesus loved," it has been considered emblematic of" sanctity."
THOU art a cherished flower,
Dost thou not bear the name of one, who laid
His head upon that heavenly breast, which paid
Our ransom from death's power?
Thou hast a meaning too
Of high-enduring faith, and trust and love,
And pure imaginings, thoughts sent above
From earth, that fain would woo
Our hearts to rest with her,
And share the short-lived gifts, she sheds o'er those
Who carelessly will slight the blest repose
Thy emblem can confer.
Bright flower! I gaze on thee,
And fain would draw unto my wearied breast,
Some of the calm thy golden leaves express,
Some of the purity.
Oh, be to me a shrine,
And let thy silent moralizing feed
My soul with sanctity, and onward lead
THY course on earth was quickly run,
As clouds before the rising sun;
One moment gilded by his blaze,
Are lost amid the solar rays;
So life-the vapour life-from thee,
One moment hid, eternity;
Then cloud-like vanished quite away,
And left thee mid eternal day;
So did thy star in gloom decline;
But 'twas to rise in that blest land,
Where God's eternal glories shine,
And myriads of bright spirits stand.
So when the storm of life had past
Its sudden gloom, and driving shower;
The sweetest sunshine was the last,
The loveliest was life's parting hour.
TRANSLATIONS.
(From p. 36.)
ON THE SEASON OF WINTER.
THE meadows smile not with the beauteous flower,
Nor voice of bird delights us in the bower;
But on the trees the frosts bestow their dower,
And fields are white.
The lake congeals; the rapids silent stand;
The laden carts traverse the marshy land;
And sailors languish on the sea-wash'd sand
In cheerless plight.
The thresher lashes now the barn-house floor,
While the stalks loudly rustle. Seize the hour,
For life's dull winter, Death is at the door,
With fearful might.
Seek God to-day, e'en winter says,
So shall the Sun of Righteousness arise,
And spring eternal greet thy opening eyes
With heavenly light.
No more adorned with flowers the meadows smile,
Nor pleasant songs of birds our ears beguile;
But now, wherever we direct our sight,
The trees and fields with bitter frost are white.
With ice the stagnant pools are covered o'er,
And the once rapid stream now runs no more;
While by the deep the sailor weary grows;
And o'er the plains the well-stored waggon goes.
With heavy blows the farmer's barns resound,
While unthrashed ears of corn still strew the ground.
Seize then the present hour, for cruel death,
Life's winter, waits to stop your fleeting breath!
ON THE NAMING OF PLACES BY THE MARINERS OF FORMER DAYS.
I LIKE in charts of the old time, the names,
Uncouth though they may seem, of" Comfort Bay," "Isles of God's Mercy ;" the sweet sound proclaims, That the rough sailor in his untried way,
Met, like the Patriarch, angels on his road,
And built an altar too, that evermore
The islands, and the rocks, and the wild shore,
Should bear memorials of thy mercies, Lord!
"Enhakkore"-the well of him who cried,
"Fountain that is in Lehi to this day;"
So of these gracious records, we may say
They shall endure, and tell good did betide,
The perishing man, and how love bade him raise
A shrine on these new shores to thine eternal praise.
"Behold the Lord's hand is not shortened that it cannot save, neither his ear heavy, that it cannot hear."
Is He faithful and true?-when the soul is at rest,
And the plea of the penitent sinner is winging
Its fetterless flight to the seat of the blest,
To mingle its whispers where angels are singing;
Whilst He, to whose throne every eye is addrest,
Forgets the high praises his chosen are bringing :
And stooping to earth, by his powerful breath,
Brings light out of darkness, and life out of death.
Is He faithful and true?-when the heavens above,
And earth all around us with beauty are glowing;
When faith springs aloft like a heaven-bound dove,
Her bright eyes suffused with the heart's overflowing,
And shares without measure that quiet and love,
Which He, whose are all things, is free in bestowing;
Assured by the Sabbath that reigns in her breast,
She is no more of earth, for "this is not our rest."
Then He cannot forget, though the sun hide his light,
And the moon for a season withhold her clear shining-
In sickness and sorrow, in dimness and blight,
The hope of the just gives not place to repining;
But yields through the silent and wearisome night,
Those joys, which a stranger is lost in divining:
For whilst in the furnace of trial we stand,
The stroke that corrects us says,
"God is at hand."
Bible Lyrics.
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