Of endless wars; and seldom does he hear The tale of woe; and ere it reaches him, Rumour so loud when new, has died away Into a whisper, on the memory borne Of casual traveller :-As on the deep, Far from the sight of land, and all around Is waveless calm, the sudden tremulous swell That gently heaves the ship, tells, as it rolls, Of earthquakes dread, and cities overthrown.
AR from the world, O Lord! I flee, From strife and tumult far;
From scenes where Satan wages still
His most successful war.
The calm retreat, the silent shade,
With prayer and praise agree; And seem, by thy sweet bounty, made For those who follow thee.
There if thy Spirit touch the soul, And grace her mean abode, Oh, with what peace, and joy, and love, She communes with her God!
There, like the nightingale, she pours Her solitary lays,
Nor asks a witness of her song, Nor thirsts for human praise.
Author and Guardian of my life, Sweet source of light divine, And (all harmonious names in one) My Saviour, thou art mine!
What thanks I owe thee, and what love! A boundless, endless store,
Shall echo through the realms above
When time shall be no more.
LEST Retirement, friend to life's decline, Retreat from care, that never must be
How blest is he who crowns, in shades likes these, A youth of labour with an age of ease;
Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly! For him no wretches, born to work and weep, Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep; No surly porter stands, in guilty state, To spurn imploring Famine from the gate; But on he moves to meet his latter end, Angels around befriending virtue's friend; Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay, While Resignation gently slopes the way; And, all his prospects brightening to the last, His heaven commences ere the world be past.
WHERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
HE inward sighs of humble penitence, Rise to the ear of Heaven, when pealed
Are scattered with the sound of common air.
S down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal
So deep in my bosom the prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So, dark as I roam, in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.
RAYER is the soul's sincere desire, Uttered or unexpressed; The motion of a hidden fire, That trembles in the breast.
Paver is the burden of a sigh, The Ag of a tear; The apwand glancing of an eye, 11 be one but God is near.
Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try;
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.
Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air;
His watch-word at the gates of death; He enters Heaven by prayer.
Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways; While angels in their songs rejoice, And say,-"Behold he prays!
The saints in prayer appear as one, In word, and deed, and mind, When with the Father and his Son Their fellowship they find.
Nor Prayer is made on earth alone: The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on the eternal throne, For sinners intercedes.
O Thou, by whom we come to God, The Life, the Truth, the Way, The path of Prayer thyself hast trod: Lord, teach us how to pray!
HEN is the time for prayer?
With the first beams that light the morning's sky, Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare, Lift up thy thoughts on high;
Commend the loved ones to his watchful care: Morn is the time for prayer!
And in the noontide hour,
If worn by toil, or by sad cares oppressed, Then unto God thy spirit's sorrow pour, And he will give thee rest:—
Thy voice shall reach him through the fields of air: Noon is the time for prayer!
When the bright sun hath set,—
Whilst yet eve's glowing colours deck the skies ;— When with the loved, at home, again thou's met, Then let the prayer arise
For those who in thy joys and sorrow share: Eve is the time for prayer!
And when the stars come forth,— When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are given; And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth To pure, bright dreams of heaven,—
Kneel to thy God—ask strength, life's ills to bear : Night is the time for prayer!
When is the time for prayer?
In every hour, while life is spared to thee— In crowds or solitudes-in joy or care—
Thy thoughts should heavenward flec. At home-at morn and eve—with loved ones there, Bend thou the knee in prayer!
GOD! it is an awful thing indeed
For one who estimates our nature well, Be what it may his outward sect or creed To name thee, thou Incomprehensible !
« AnteriorContinuar » |