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When earthly joys have left the breast,

And e'en the last fond hope it cherish'd
Of mortal bliss—too like the rest-

Beneath woe's withering touch has perish'd,
With fadeless lustre streams that light-
A halo on the brow of night.
And bitter were our sojourn here,

In this dark wilderness of sorrow,
Did not that rainbow-beam appear,

The herald of a brighter morrow,
A friendly beacon from on high,
To guide us to Eternity.

Alaric Watts.

WHEN Jordan hush'd his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion's bill ;
When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night
Watch'd o'er their flocks by starry light :
Hark! from the midnight hills around,
A voice of more than mortal sound,
In distant hallelujahs stole,
Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul.)
“O! Zion, lift thy raptured eye,
The long-expected hour is nigh:
The joys of nature rise again,
The Prince of Salem comes to reign.” T. Campbell

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Rock OF AGES, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee!
Let the water and the blood,
From thy riven side which flow'd,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power!
Not the labour of

my

hands
Can fulfil the law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could

my

tears for ever flow,
Al for sin could not atone :
Thou must save, and thou alone!

Nothing in my hand I bring -
Simply to thy cross I cling :
Naked,—come to thee for dress :
Helpless,-look to thee for grace:
Foul, -I to the fountain fly :
Wash me, Saviour, or I die!
While I draw this fleeting breath,
When my eyelids close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown,
See thee on thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in thee!

Toplady.

WHEN in the hours of lonely woe,
I give my sorrow leave to flow;
And anxious fear and dark distrust
Weigh down my spirit to the dust;
When not e'en friendship’s gentle aid
Can heal the wounds the world has made,
0! this shall check each rising sigh,
That Jesus is for ever nigh.

Conder.

O! That in unfettered union,

Spirit could with spirit blend ; 0! that in unseen communion,

Thought could hold the distant friend !

Conder.

O Child of grief! why weepest thou ?
Why droops thy sad and mournful brow?
Why is thy look so like despair ?
What deep, sad sorrow lingers there?
Thou mourn’st perhaps for some one gone,
A friend, a wife, a little one:
Yet mourn not, for thou hast above
A friend in God, and “ God is love."
Was it remorse that laid thee low ?
Is it for sin thou mourneth so ?
Surely thou bear'st a heavy grief;
Set, mourner, there is still relief.

There's One on high can pardon give,
Who gave his life that thou may'st live ;
Seek, then, for comfort from above,
Thy friend is God, and “ God is love."
Has cold unkindness wounded thee ?
Does thy lov’d friend now from thee flee?
0! turn thy thoughts from earth to heaven,
Where no such cruel wounds are given.
In all the varying scenes of woe,
The lot of fallen man below;
Still lift thy tearful eye above,
And hope in God, for God is love."
Sweet is the thought-time flies apace,
This earth is not our resting place ;
And sweet the promise of the Lord,
To all who love his name and word.
Then, weeping pilgrim, dry thy tears;
Comfort on every side appears ;
An
eye

beholds thee from above; The eye of God, and God is love."

FRIEND after friend departs !

Who hath not lost a friend ?
There is no union here of hearts,

That finds not here an end;
Were this frail world our final rest,-
Living or dying, none were blest.
Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond the reign of death,
There surely is some blessed clime

Where life is not a breath ;
Nor life's affections transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upwards and expire.
There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown;
A long eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone;
And faith beholds the dying here
Translated to that glorious sphere !

Thus star by star declines,

Till all are past away;
As morning high and higher shines

To pure and perfect day;
Nor sink those stars in empty night,
But hide themselves in heaven's own light.

Montgomery.
God of my life, to thee I call,
Afflicted at thy feet I fall;
When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail.
Friend of the friendless and the faint!
Where should I lodge my deep complaint ?
Where but with thee, whose open

door
Invites the helpless and the poor?
Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner's plea ?
Does not the word still fixed remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain ?

Poor though I am, despis'd, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not!
And he is safe and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.

Couper.

THE GRAVE.
THERE is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
And while the mouldering ashes sleep

Low in the ground,
The soul of origin divine,
God's glorious image freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine
A star of day!

Montgomery

BROTHER, thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow is unknown;

From the burthen of the flesh,
And from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

Milman.

A REAL OCCURRENCE IN A CIRCLE OF

FRIENDS.

Which is the happiest death to die?
“Oh!" said one, “if I might choose,
Long at the gate of bliss would I lie,
And feast my spirit ere it fly,
With bright celestial views.
Mine were a lingering death without pain,
A death which all might love to see,
And mark how bright and sweet should be
The victory I should gain !
Fain would I catch a hymn of love
From the angel-harps which ring above;
And sing it as my parting breath
Quivered and expired in death-
So that those on earth might hear
The harp-notes of another sphere;
And mark when nature faints and dies,
What springs of heavenly life arise,
And gather from the death they view,
A ray of hope to light them through,
When they should be departing too.”
“No," said another, “ so not I:
Sudden as thought is the death I would die ;
I would suddenly lay my shackles by,
Nor bear a single pang at parting,
Nor see the tears of sorrow starting,
Nor hear the quivering lips that bless me,
Nor feel the hands of love that press me,
Nor the frame, with mortal terror shaking,
Nor the heart, where love's soft bands are breaking.
So would I die !
All bliss, without a pang to cloud it!
All joy, without a pain to shroud it!

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