THE FIELD OF THE WORLD.

Sow in the morn thy seed,

At eve hold not thine hand;

To doubt, and fear give thou no heed,

Broad-cast it o'er the land.

Beside all waters sow,

The highway furrows stock, Drop it where thorns and thistles grow,

Scatter it on the rock.

The good, the fruitful ground,

Expect not here nor there:

O'er hill and dale, by plots, 'tis found;
Go forth, then, everywhere.

Thou know'st not which may thrive,
The late or early sown;

Grace keeps the precious germs alive,
When and wherever strown.

And duly shall appear,

In verdure, beauty, strength;
The tender blade, the stalk, the ear,

And the full corn at length.

Thou canst not toil in vain ;

Cold, heat, and moist, and dry,
Shall foster and mature the grain
For garners in the sky.

Thence, when the glorious end,
The day of GoD is come,
The angel-reapers shall descend,

And Heaven cry-" Harvest-home!"

FAREWELL TO A MISSIONARY.

HOME, kindred, friends, and country-these
Are things with which we never part;
From clime to clime, o'er land and seas,
We bear them with us in our heart;
And yet 'tis hard to feel resign'd,
When they must all be left behind.

But when the pilgrim's staff we take,
And follow Christ from shore to shore,
Gladly for Him we all forsake,

Press on, and only look before;
Though humbled nature mourns her loss,
The spirit glories in the cross.

It is no sin, like man, to weep,

Even Jesus wept o'er Lazarus dead; Or yearn for home beyond the deep,He had not where to lay his head; The patriot's tears will He condemn, Who grieved o'er lost Jerusalem?

Take up your cross, and say—“ Farewell :”
Go forth without the camp to Him,

Who left heaven's throne with men to dwell,
Who died his murderers to redeem :
Oh! tell his name in every ear,

Doubt not, the dead themselves will hear,

Hear, and come forth to life anew;

-Then while the Gentile courts they fill, Shall not your Saviour's words stand true? Home, kindred, friends, and country still, In earth's last desert you shall find, Yet lose not those you left behind.

VOL. II.

"THE PRISONER OF THE LORD."

A SABBATH HYMN FOR A SICK CHAMBER.

THOUSANDS, O LORD of Hosts! this day,
Around thine altar meet;

And tens of thousands throng to pay
Their homage at Thy feet.

They see Thy power and glory there,
As I have seen them too;

They read, they hear, they join in prayer,
As I was wont to do.

They sing Thy deeds, as I have sung,
In sweet and solemn lays;

Were I among them, my glad tongue
Might learn new themes of praise.

For Thou art in their midst, to teach,
When on Thy name they call;
And Thou hast blessings, LORD, for each,
Hast blessings, LORD, for all.

I, of such fellowship bereft,

In spirit turn to Thee;

Oh! hast Thou not a blessing left,
A blessing, LORD, for me?

The dew lies thick on all the ground,
Shall my poor fleece be dry?

The manna rains from heaven around,
Shall I of hunger die?

Behold Thy prisoner;-loose my bands,

If 'tis Thy gracious will;

If not, contented in thine hands,

Behold Thy prisoner still!

39

I

may not to Thy courts repair, Yet here Thou surely art; LORD, consecrate a house of

In my surrender'd heart.

prayer

To faith reveal the things unseen,
To hope, the joys untold;
Let love, without a veil between,
Thy glory now behold.

Oh! make Thy face on me to shine,
That doubt and fear may cease;
Lift up Thy countenance benign
On me, and give me peace.

AN AFTER-THOUGHT.

I CANNOT call affliction sweet,
And yet 'twas good to bear;
Affliction brought me to Thy feet,
And I found comfort there.

My weaned soul was all resign'd
To Thy most gracious will;
Oh! had I kept that better mind,
Or been afflicted still!

Where are the vows which then I vow'd,
The joys which then I knew?
Those vanish'd like the morning cloud,
These like the early dew.

LORD, grant me grace for every day,

Whate'er my state may be;

Through life, in death, with truth to say, "My God is all to me!"

OUR SAVIOUR'S PRAYERS.*

PREAMBLE.

HIGH PRIEST for sinners, Jesus, Lord!
Whom as a man of griefs I see,
Thy prayers on earth while I record,
If still in heaven thou pray'st for me,
My soul for thy soul's travail claim,
I seek salvation in thy name.

PART I.

Baptized as for the dead he rose,

With prayer, from Jordan's hallow'd flood; Ere long, by persecuting foes,

To be baptized in his own blood:

The Father's voice proclaim'd the Son,
The Spirit witness'd;-these are one.
Early he rose ere dawn of day,

And to a desert place withdrew,
There was he wont to watch and pray,
Until his locks were wet with dew,
And birds below, and beams above,
Had warn'd him thence to works of love.

At evening when his toils were o'er,
He sent the multitudes away,
And on the mountain or the shore,

All night remain'd alone to pray,
Till o'er his head the stars grew
dim:
-When was the hour of rest for him?

Luke iii. 21.

Mark i. 35.

Luke vi. 12.

In these stanzas the Scripture quotations are from those passages to which direct reference is intended in the fines themselves, rather than to the corresponding accounts of the same transactions by others of the sacred historians.