A BAPTISM OF TEARS. BY MARY HOWITT. LIKE a weak ship amid the sea, Is human life through misery; And storms would wreck, and billows whelm, Therefore, O God, on thee we call, Not on the whirlwind's wing upborne, Not in the glory of the morn, Ah, though the day be calm and bright, And fields, and flowers, and waters shine As fair as on their earliest day, Yet man, a creature half divine, Goes drooping, mourning on his way! Then, from the heavens thy dwelling-place, Father of all, look down and see,' How wo hath left its darkening trace Upon thy human family! The poor,their heritage is toil; Their fourscore years are given as spoil To the rich man; their bread they gain Hope knows them not; and cares and fears Their life, through caring for to-day, Hungry and cold; to wan disease Oh comfort them, and give them power To look beyond the present hour, Merciful, as thou art! Oh give them virtue to gainsay The cruel tempter night and day; To turn life's evil into good; And a meek contrite heart, to bend And Father! God, so visit these, And lighten life of its worst miseries. And, oh, be thy great mercy sent Most miserable, who cannot win The self-accused, who loathes his sin, Yet hath not strength to break ; Oh save him, for thy mercy's sake! Call, call him back, for he doth yearn Thine erring, doubting, trembling child, Yet dare not look to thee, Although like life he loveth thee. Oh, do not cast him off, but still Call, call him back, and bid him cease And give him hope, and he Will fly to thee rejoicingly, And sin no more. Another lot of misery! I see it bowing to the earth Children that know not childhood's mirth; But who can see their drooping heart— The harrowed soul, the mortal smart, That bears through life the wound of care? Penuried heirs of wretchedness, Who ne'er the smile of mercy saw, Who have no kinder friend than law, Whom no eye sees to bless! O God, look down and see Their unshared, desolate misery; Pity their unawakened sense, And their blind hopeless ignorance : Oh teach them right from wrong Whom no man teaches, and instil Into their abject spirits virtues strong, And joy which at small fountains drinks its fill. My tongue is all unskilled to pour, O Lord, a fitting prayer to thee, Yet would I crave, once more, once more, For poor humanity; For him whose mortal die is cast, Who sees his life's sands ebbing fast, Yet has no hope, no stay, no trust; Death, and an awful Judge, who lent Life not to be misspent! And now who knows, alas, too late, How vain a dreamer he has been, Though bought with mortal agony, Poor sinner though he be, And meet a Father and a Friend in thee! THE LAND OF REST. "THERE REMAINETH THEREFORE A REST FOR THE PEOPLE OF GOD." OH! land of rest, we look to thee When darkness round our path-way lies, And waters flow, Sweeping the lovely from our eyes; No storm thou know'st, or treacherous sea, And therefore do we look to thee. Oh! land of rest, we look to thee, When by the bed of death we stand, The Master's will Shall to his bar the soul command; Thy sons fade not at death's decree, And therefore do we look to thee. Oh! land of rest, we look to thee When all within Is dark with sin, And Satan's wiles our peace assail; And therefore do we look to thee. Heb iv. 9. |