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Yea, brighten up! for in this life
Enough there is of death!
Bears emblems on its breath.
'Yet ever with us still remain
From morn till set of sun,
Till earthly days are done.
• Teach us to have a holy fear
Of all that tends to sin ;
Whatever we may win.
Be it affection of good men,
Or hate of cruel foes ;
Our God and Father knows.
Thus will we take our quit of thee,
And all thy memory tell ;
Farewell, dear friend, farewell !'
Composed at Brawby, during December, 1887, in memory of the Rev. William Abbey, who for nearly half a century was vicar of Salton, of which the village of Brawby forms a part. He died in November, 1887, aged 76. In his manners, words and actions, he exhibited all the evidences of a self-sacrificing Christian gentleman, and day by day showed to all around the beauty of Christian holiness by the example of a pure and blameless, as well as a loving and considerate life. His death seemed as the removal of a lighthouse or landmark from some rocky, dangerous coast. The quiet good that such a life reflects, however, even when the author of it has passed away, is not to be estimated or known in this world. He it was who engaged me to come to Brawby, and for his unfailing courtesy and considerate kindness towards me, I shall always revere his memory.
THE DISCIPLE'S CRY.
HELP, Lord ! help!
I perish but for thee!
Bear with me patiently.
Since I have known Thy way ;
My succour and my stay.
Urged by the Tempter on;
Were there in battle throng
And every hope of heaven.
For with my strength I'd striven;
Nor looked to Thee for aid,
Or else those tears of penitence
Had never been displayed. Yea, I have wandered far from Thee,
Far on a lonely, weary road, Away from home and happiness,
And from Thy face, my God; But Thou art ever kind
Thou knowest what's in man; Thou dost remember we are dust;
Our lives are but a span ! Lo! now my days are hastening on
Swift as this fleeting breath; Soon, soon I must be gone,
My heart-throbs cease in death. But oh! I would for time to come,
In days which still remain, Before the setting of life's sun,
For ever o'er the plain ;
Aye, every trivial gale;
For Thou dost never fail !
WHEN THE STORMS.
When the storms of life are over,
And the victory draweth nigh, We shall see our great Commander,
Jesus Christ the Lord most high. We shall see Him, we shall see Him!
We shall be like Him;
When the sins of life are over,
And the winnowing days are done, We shall stand before the Saviour
In that land beyond the sun, We shall see Him, etc.
When the joys of life are over,
And its sorrows pass'd away, We shall live for ever with Him
In that home of endless day. We shall see Him, etc.
There for ever and for ever,
While eternity shall roll,
In that haven of the soul.
THE LITTLE MAIDEN.
A FLOWERET by the wayside,
The daisies on the lea, The primrose mid the woodlands
Are sweet and dear to me. They speak of God and beauty,
Whose matchless skill doth trace Their gem-like forms so lovely,
With poetry and grace. Yet dearer far the children
Around a cottage door Tell of a love immortal
Beyond this earthly shore. So innocent, so guileless,
So free from vicious sin, So full of pranks and frolics,
With laughter's merry din. They twine around affections,
They creep into the heart; They cluster with their tendrils
Where none may dare to part. They are like gleams of glory
Which sparkle on the rills, Or music of sweet waters
That murmur mid the hills.