Our eyes have seen the steps of age Turn mortal, turn! thy danger know; Turn Christian, turn! thy soul apply To truths divinely given; The bones that underneath thee lie Shall live for Hell or Heaven! ANOTHER. R. H. THOU art gone to the Grave! but we will not deplore thee, Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb : Thy Saviour has pass'd through its portal before thee, And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the gloom! Thou art gone to the grave! we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side; But the wide arms of Mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may die, for the SINLESS has died! Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion forsaking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long; But the mild rays of Paradise beam'd on thy waking, And the sound which thou heardst was the Seraphim's song! Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide; He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee, And Death has no sting, for the Saviour has died! ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. R. H. OH Saviour of the faithful dead, Though cold and green the turf is spread No more we cling to mortal clay, Nor shrink to tread the darksome way 'Twas hard from those I loved to go, As, fading from my dizzy view, "Twas dreadful when th' Accuser's power Assail'd my sinking heart, Recounting every wasted hour, And each unworthy part: But, Jesus! in that mortal fray, Like sunshine in a stormy day, When soon or late, this feeble breath No more to Thee shall pray, Support me through the vale of death, And in the darksome way! When cloth'd in fleshly weeds again I wait Thy dread decree, Judge of the world! bethink Thee then That Thou hast died for me. THE END. PRINTED BY R. GILBERT, St. John's-square, London. |