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1. O, ANGEL of the land of
I wait for thee.
2. Sleep shuns mine eyes—mine inner sight
Is turning dimly heaven-ward,
Earth's children guard.
0, holy angels. pure and blest, Where, 'mid yon happy, shining band, In all the heavenly Fatherland,
My lost ones rest!
His heavenly innocence, and fell !
Thou, Thou canst tell !
Didst gently lure them to Thy breast,
Upon them prest.
Thy seraph-smile upon me fell !
With God to dwell!
When wilt Thou ever come for me?
I wait for Thee!
MRS. C. M. SAWYER.
Take this new treasure to thy trust,
To slumber in the silent dust.
Invade thy bounds; no mortal woes
While angels watch the soft repose. 3. So Jesus slept; God's dying Son
Passed through the grave, and bless'd the bed : Rest here, blest saint, till from His throne
The morning break, and pierce the shade. 4. Break from His throne, illustrious morn;
Attend, O earth, His sovereign word;
Shall then arise to meet the Lord.
Are shadows, not substantial things;
Death lays his icy hands on kings. 2. Princes and magistrates must fall,
And in the dust be equal made;
Scepter and crown with scythe and spade. 3. The laurel withers on our brow;
Then boast no more your mighty deeds:
See where the victor victim bleeds!
Escap'd the prison of his clay,
To heaven directs his upward way.
2. Ye fields ! that witnessed once his tears,
Ye winds! that wafted oft his sighs,
eyes3. No more the weary pilgrim mourns,
No more afiliction wrings his heart;
Forever he and anguish part! 4. Receive, O earth, his faded form,
In thy cold bosom let it lic;
Soon must it rise, no more to die.
Frail, smiling solace of an hour;
And pleasure only blocms to die.
To soothe the anguish of the heart?
Thy comforts were not made to die.
And dying hope revives again;
L. M. 1. RETURN, my roving heart! return,
And chase those shadowy forms no more; Now seek, in solitude, to mourn,
And thy forsaken God implore.
Distinctly marks each deep recess;-
And with Thy presence fill the place.
3. Through all the windings of my heart,
My search let heavenly wisdom guide,
Till all be cleansed and purified. 4. Oh! with the visits of Thy love,
Vouchsafe my inmost soul to cheer;
That God has fixed His dwelling here.
Its pomps, its pleasures pass away;
Survives in the vicissitude.
The eternal isles established be,
Fret, dash, and break themselves in vain :3. As, in the heavens, the urns divine
Of golden light forever shine;
The memory of the just appears;
to age :
And golden hopes the spirits greet,
Alas! how hard it is to die. 2. When scarce is seized some borrowed prize,
And duties press; and tender ties
How awful, then, it is to die.
3. When, one by one, those ties are torn,
And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,
Ah! then, how easy 't is to die.
And films, slow gathering, dim the sight,
'Tis nature's precious boon to die.
And words of peace the spirit cheer,
'Tis joy, 't is triumph, then, to die.
1. How blest are they whose transient years
Pass like an evening meteor's flight !
Whose course is short, unclouded, bright. 2. O, cheerless were our lengthened way;
But heaven's own light dispels the gloom, Streams downward from eternal day,
And casts a glory round the tomb. 3. O, stay thy tears; the blest above
Have hailed a spirit's heavenly birth,
Then why should anguish reign on earth ?
From which none ever wakes to weep;
Unbroken by the dread of foes.
Whose waking is supremely blest;