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"HE HUMBLED HIMSELF, AND BECAME OBEDIENT UNTO DEATH."

To conquer and to save, the Son of God
Came to His own in great humility,
Who wont to ride on cherub-wings abroad,
And round Him wrap the mantle of the sky.
The mountains bent their necks to form His road;
The clouds dropt down their fatness from on high;
Beneath His feet the wild waves softly flow'd,
And the wind kissed His garment tremblingly.

The grave unbolted half his grisly door,
(For darkness and the deep had heard His fame,
Nor longer might their ancient rule endure ;)
The mightiest of mankind stood hush'd and tame :
And, trooping on strong wing, His angels came
To work His will, and kingdom to secure :

No strength He needed save His Father's name;
Babes were His heralds, and His friends the poor.

66 HERE WE HAVE NO CONTINUING CITY."

AH! when did wisdom covet length of days,
Or seek its bliss in pleasure, wealth, or praise?
No-wisdom views with an indifferent eye,
All finite joys, all blessings born to die.
The soul on earth is an immortal guest,
Compelled to starve at an unreal feast:
A spark that upward tends by nature's force;
A stream diverted from its parent source;
A drop dissever'd from the boundless sea;
A moment parted from eternity!
A pilgrim, panting for a rest to come;
An exile, anxious for his native home.

"LAY NOT UP TREASURES UPON EARTH."

WHAT is this passing scene?

A peevish April-day!

A little sun, a little rain,—

And then night sweeps along the plain,

And all things fade away:

Man (soon discussed)

Yields up

his trust;

And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust!

And what is beauty's power?

It flourishes and dies;

Will the cold earth its silence break,

To tell how soft, how smooth a cheek

Beneath it's surface lies?

Mute, mute is all

O'er beauty's fall;

Her praise resounds no more, when mantled in her pall.

The most beloved on earth

Not long survives to-day;

So music past is obsolete,

And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet,
But now 'tis gone away:

Thus does the shade

In memory fade,

When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid!

Then since this world is vain

And volatile and fleet,

Why should I lay up earthly joys,

Where rust corrupts and moth destroys,

And cares and sorrows eat?

Why fly from ill

With anxious skill,

When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart

lie still?

66 TOUCHED WITH THE FEELING OF OUR INFIRMITIES."

WHEN gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few ;
On Him I lean, who, not in vain,
Experienced every human pain:
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.

If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way,
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do;
Still He who felt temptation's power,
Will guard me in that dangerous hour.

If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall His pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe:
At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
By those who shared his daily bread.

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