Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

And He, the loveliest and the best,
Slain for my sins, and yet my friend,
Points to the scar upon his breast,

To lure me to my journey's end.
Intreat me not-no more delay

The way-worn pilgrim from his home:
My Saviour calls -I must away—
Jesus, my God! I come, I come.

R. W. KYLE.

THE CHURCH OF OUR FATHERS.

HALF screen'd by its trees in the sabbath's calm smile,

The Church of our Fathers, how meekly it stands ! O Villagers, gaze on the old hallowed pile—

It was dear to their hearts, it was raised by their

hands.

Who loves not the ground where they worshipp'd their God?

Who loves not the ground where their ashes repose?
Dear even the daisy that blooms on the sod,
For dear is the dust out of which it arose !
Then let not the temple our forefathers built,
Which the tempests of ages have batter'd in vain,
Be abandon'd by us from supineness or guilt-
O let it not fall by the rash and profane !

HEAVENLY REQUIREMENTS.

"The Lord hath need of them."-Matt. xxi. 3.

O WORDS of wonder! Saviour, can it be,
That thine own works are needful thus to thee?
What didst thou need when sojourning on earth?
One of the brute creation, little worth,

To bear thee on thy way. What didst thou need?
With lowly wonder shall thy children read,
A rest the well beside-a fig to eat-

A little water to refresh thy feet

Draught from the well, thy burning thirst to slake,
The floor of some poor barge thy bed to make-
A pillow for thy head-Were these the things
Needed awhile by Him, the King of Kings?
What, did He need God's counsels to fulfil ?
Christian, reply, with deeper reverence still:
From all earth's boundless wastes and forests wide,
One cross of wood there to be crucified-

A crown of thorns-a robe of mockery's die-
All to fulfil the ancient prophecy.

Yea, it must be fulfilled. He needed all;

The dying thirst—the vinegar and gall;

The hand of friendship that, 'mid twilight's gloom, Should take Him from the cross, and lay Him in the tomb.

But this is past: and all heaven's host once more Throng round their King in rapture to adore. Blest, self-existent, with a crown of light,

A robe of glory, and an arm of might,

What needest Thou? The feeble ones of earth
Thine to become by new and heavenly birth.

O, ask ye what He needs! We dare reply,
The tear of penitence, the suppliant's sigh.
Christian, thy Lord has need of thee. Awake!

And bear and suffer all things for his sake,
He needs thy all: thy body, spirit, soul,
All to be subjected to his control:

Thy thoughts, thy memory, speech, and song, and lyre,

Bring all to Him, that He may all inspire:

O give not up thyself to aught beside:

He needs thee who for thee was crucified.

What would HE have, heaven's harmony to swell? Thy voice of praise, the history thou canst tell.

O, can it be, his bliss is not complete

Till every ransom'd one has claim'd his seat;
Till every voyager the wave has past,
And every crown before his feet is cast?

And hast thou need of us? Lord, let us see
Our infinite, unceasing need of thee.

MISS EMRA.

THE IDOL.

WHATEVER passes as a cloud between
The mental eye of faith, and things unseen,
Causing that brighter world to disappear,
Or seem less lovely, and its hopes less dear:
This is our world, our Idol, though it bear
Affection's impress, or devotion's air.

E

THE OAK.

KING of the forest! which through years gone by
Hast reign'd unharm'd in lofty majesty ;
Thou, when with clouds the sky was overcast,
And frailer forms were bent before the blast,
Amidst the tempest's frowns upreard'st thy head,
As if to shew how vain its power was shed.
Full many a form, who oft beneath thy shade
In youth hath linger'd, or in childhood play'd,
Returns no more: snatch'd in life's early bloom,
Some are now sleeping in the silent tomb:
Fair flowers of spring! the beautiful, the bright,
Transplanted to a sphere of purer light.
Many have left their home and native land,
And sever'd is the once gay household band;
To meet perhaps a solitary grave

In foreign climes, or 'neath the briny wave.
Full many an autumn, noble tree! has seen
Thy foliage change, though now so fresh and green;
And winter too thy leafless form has view'd;
But spring return'd, and all thy bloom renew'd.
Thus, then, as these their power and strength renew,
And opening beauties yearly glad the view,
So may our souls upborne on faith's firm wing,
Rise from mortality to endless spring;
And as thy root, firm buried in the ground,
Stedfast withstands the storms that gather round;
So, though with clouds our path be overcast,
Be our's to rise unharm'd from every blast.
Be our's to root our faith in that bright way
Which leads to realms of everlasting day-
To trust in God, though tempests round us fall-
To feel, to own that Christ is all in all.

CHRISTIAN CONSOLATION.

I WEEP, but not rebellious tears;
I mourn, but not in hopeless woe;
I droop, but not with doubtful fears,
For whom I've trusted, Him I know:
Lord, I believe-assuage my grief,
And help, O help, my unbelief!

Blind eyes! fond heart! that vainly sought For lasting bliss in things of earth; Remembering but with transient thought, Thy heavenly home, thy second birth; Till God, in mercy, broke at last,

The chains that held thee down so fast.

In heaven, that holy, happy, place,

I soon shall know, as I am known; And see my Saviour face to face.

And meet, rejoicing round his throne, The faithful souls made perfect there From earthly stains, from mortal care. MRS. SOUTHEY.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »