508

4 O human heart! thou hast a song
For all that to the earth belong,
Whene'er the golden chain of love
Hath linked thee to the heaven above.

11 & 10s M. MRS. H. B. STOWE.

Matins.

1 STILL, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh, When the bird waketh, and the shadows flee; Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight, Dawns the sweet consciousness, I am with thee!

2 Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows, The solemn hush of nature newly born; Alone with thee, in breathless adoration,

In the calm dew and freshness of the morn.

3 As in the dawning, o'er the waveless ocean, The image of the morning-star doth rest, So in this stillness thou beholdest only

Thine image in the waters of my breast.

4 When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber, Its closing eye looks to thee in prayer,

up

Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading,
But sweeter still to wake and find thee there.

5 So shall it be at last in that bright morning
When the soul waketh, and life's shadows flee;
O, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning,
Shall rise the glorious thought, I am with thee!

509

11 & 10s M. MRS. H. B. STOWE.

The Calm of the Soul.

1 WHEN winds are raging o'er the upper ocean,
And billows wild contend with angry roar,
'Tis said, far down beneath the wild commotion,
That peaceful stillness reigneth, evermore.

2 Far, far beneath, the noise of tempests dieth,
And silver waves chime ever peacefully,
And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth,
Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.

3 So to the heart that knows thy love, O Purest !
There is a temple sacred evermore,

And all the babble of life's angry voices
Dies, in hushed stillness, at its peaceful door.

4 Far, far away, the roar of passion dieth,

And loving thoughts rise calm and peacefully; And no rude storm, how fierce soe'er it flieth, Disturbs the soul that dwells, O Lord, in thee.

50 rest of rests! O peace serene, eternal !

Thou ever livest, and thou changest never; And in the secret of thy presence dwelleth Fulness of joy, forever and forever.

432

510

10 & 9s M.

BURLEIGH.

In Te Domine.

1 Nor in vain I poured my supplication, Voiced in anguish that was nigh despair; God henceforth the rock of

my

salvation

Hears in pity and receives my prayer.

-

2 On his name from midst the darkness calling, He my soul hath ransomed from its fears; By his strength my feet are saved from falling, And his love hath dried my flowing tears.

3 Therefore come I to his altars, bringing

Hymns and vows my gratitude would pay ;
Hallelujahs and the voice of singing

Best interpret all this heart would say.

4 Henceforth, with a spirit meek and lowly,
With a faith that nothing can appall,
Hopes serene and purpose high and holy,
I will meet whatever may befall.

5 If around me clouds and darkness gather,
Lo, the brighter day that dawns beyond!
Through the gloom the everlasting Father

Sends a voice that bids me not despond.

6 By his mercy, which hath never failed me, Over hate and falsehood's brood abhorred, Over all the foes that have assailed me,

I shall triumph greatly through the Lord!

Ere the toil be done;

They that work not cannot play,

Cannot feel the sun.

God is living, working still;

All things work and move;

Work, wouldst thou their beauty feel,

And thy Maker's love.

2 All the rolling planets glow
Bright as burning gold!

Should they pause, how soon they'd grow

Colorless and cold!

Joy and beauty,

where were they

If the world stood still?

Like the world, thy law obey,

And thy calling fill.

3 Wouldst thou know the joy of health?
Wouldst thou feel thy powers?

Industry alone is wealth,

What we do is ours.

Load the passive hours with thought,
While they stay with thee;

Then despatch them, richly fraught,

To eternity.

512

8, 7, & 4s M.

T. H. GILL.

Progress.

1 EVERLASTING! changing never!

Of one strength, no more, no less:
Thine almightiness forever,-

All the same thy holiness:
Thee eternal,

Thee all-glorious, we possess!

2 But we weak ones, but we sinners,
Would not in our poorness stay;
We, the low ones, would be winners
Of what holy height we may,
Ever nearer

To thy pure and perfect day.

3 Shall things withered, fashions olden,
Keep us from life's flowing spring?
Waits for us the promise golden, -
Waits each new diviner thing?
Onward! onward!

Why this faithless tarrying?

4 By the old aspirants glorious,
By the hearts that hopéd all,
By the strivers, half victorious,
By each soul heroical,

By thy dearest,

By thy Milton and thy Paul,