By all the terrors of the tomb,
Beyond the power of tongue to tell!
By the dread secrets of my womb!
By death and hell!

I charge thee live! repent and pray;
In dust thine infamy deplore;
There yet is mercy; go thy way,
And sin no more.

Art thou a mourner? Hast thou known
The joy of innocent delights?
Endearing days for ever flown,

And tranquil nights?

O live! and deeply cherish still
The sweet remembrance of the past:
Rely on Heaven's unchanging will
For peace at last.

Art thou a wanderer? Hast thou seen
O'erwhelming tempests drown thy bark?
A shipwreck'd sufferer, hast thou been
Misfortune's mark?

Go, seek that treasure, seldom found,
Of power the fiercest griefs to calm,
And soothe the bosom's deepest wound
With heavenly balm.

Did woman's charms thy youth beguile,
And did the fair one faithless prove?
Hath she betray'd thee with her smile,
And sold thy love?

Live! 'twas a false bewildering fire:
Too often love's insidious dart

Thrills the fond soul with wild desire,
But kills the heart.

Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear,
To gaze on listening beauty's eye!
To ask-and pause in hope and fear
Till she reply!

A nobler flame shall warm thy breast,
A brighter maiden faithful prove;
Thy youth, thine age, shall yet be blest
In woman's love.

Whate'er thy lot, whoe'er thou be,
Confess thy folly, kiss the rod,
And in thy chastening sorrows see
The hand of God.

A bruised reed he will not break;
Afflictions all his children feel;
He wounds them for his mercy's sake;
He wounds to heal!

Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Prostrate his Providence adore:
'Tis done!-Arise! He bids thee stand,
To fall no more.

Now, traveller in the vale of tears!
To realms of everlasting light,

Through time's dark wilderness of years,
Pursue thy flight.

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!

The sun is but a spárk of fire, A transient meteor in the sky; The soul, immortal as its sire,

Shall never die."

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854.

1386.-ASPIRATIONS OF YOUTH. Higher, higher will we climb,

Up to the mount of glory,

That our names may live through time

In our country's story; Happy, when her welfare calls, He who conquers, he who falls.

Deeper, deeper let us toil

In the mines of knowledge;
Nature's wealth and learning's spoil
Win from school and college;
Delve we there for richer gems
Than the stars of diadems.

Onward, onward may we press
Through the path of duty;
Virtue is true happiness,

Excellence true beauty.
Minds are of celestial birth,

Make we then a heaven of earth.

Closer, closer let us knit

Hearts and hands together,
Where our fireside comforts sit,

In the wildest weather;
O they wander wide who roam
For the joys of life from home.

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854.

1387. THE COMMON LOT.

Once, in the flight of ages past,
There lived a man: and who was he?
Mortal! howe'er thy lot be cast,
That man resembled thee.

Unknown the region of his birth,

The land in which he died unknown: His name has perish'd from the earth, This truth survives alone:

That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear,
Alternate triumph'd in his breast;
His bliss and woe-a smile, a tear!
Oblivion hides the rest.

The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall;
We know that these were felt by him,
For these are felt by all.

He suffer'd-but his pangs are o'er;
Enjoy'd-but his delights are fled;

Had friends-his friends are now no more;
And foes-his foes are dead.

He loved-but whom he loved the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb:
O she was fair! but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.

He saw whatever thou hast seen;
Encounter'd all that troubles thee:
He was whatever thou hast been;

He is what thou shalt be.

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, Erewhile his portion, life and light,

To him exist in vain.

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye
That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky

No vestige where they flew.

The annals of the human race,

Their ruins, since the world began,

Of him afford no other trace

Than this-there lived a man!

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854.

1388.-PRAYER.

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire
Utter'd or unexpress'd;

The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.
Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,
The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,

The Christian's native air;

His watchword at the gates of death:
He enters heaven by prayer.
Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And say "Behold he prays!'

The saints in prayer appear as one,
In word, and deed, and mind,
When with the Father and his Son
Their fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made on earth alone:
The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on the eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of prayer thyself hast trod :
Lord, teach us how to pray!

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854,

1389.-HOME.

There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valour, truth,
Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted youth:
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting
shores,

Views not a realm so bountiful and fair,
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air;
In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that
pole;

For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his soften'd looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother,
friend;

Here woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,

Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life!

In the clear heaven of her delightful eye,
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees domestic duties meet,
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be
found?

Art thou a man ?-a patriot ?-look around;
O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps

Then, while it slumbers, watch its breath, As if to guard from instant death;

This is a Mother's Love.

To mark its growth from day to day,
Its opening charms admire,
Catch from its eye the earliest ray

Of intellectual fire;

To smile and listen while it talks,
And lend a finger when it walks ;
This is a Mother's Love.

And can a Mother's Love grow cold?
Can she forget her boy?
His pleading innocence behold,

Nor weep for grief-for joy?
A Mother may forget her child,
While wolves devour it on the wild;
Is this a Mother's Love?

Ten thousand voices answer "No!"
Ye clasp your babes and kiss ;
Your bosoms yearn, your eyes o'erflow;
Yet, ah remember this,-

The infant, rear'd alone for earth,
May live, may die,-to curse his birth;
-Is this a Mother's Love?

A parent's heart may prove a snare;
The child she loves so well,
Her hand may lead, with gentlest care,
Down the smooth road to hell;
Nourish its frame,-destroy its mind:
Thus do the blind mislead the blind,
Even with a Mother's Love.

Blest infant! whom his mother taught
Early to seek the Lord,
And pour'd upon his dawning thought
The day-spring of the word;
This was the lesson to her son
-Time is Eternity begun :

Behold that Mother's Love.

Blest Mother! who, in wisdom's path
By her own parent trod,

Thus taught her son to flee the wrath,
And know the fear, of God:

Ah, youth like him enjoy your prime ;
Begin Eternity in time,

Taught by that Mother's Love.

That Mother's Love!-how sweet the name!
What was that Mother's Love?

-The noblest, purest, tenderest flame,
That kindles from above,

Within a heart of earthly mould,

As much of heaven as heart can hold,

Nor through eternity grows cold:

This was that Mother's Love.

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854.

1391.-TO A DAISY.

There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye,

That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.

The prouder beauties of the field,
In gay but quick succession shine;
Race after race their honours yield,
They flourish and decline.

But this small flower, to Nature dear,
While moons and stars their courses run,
Enwreathes the circle of the year,
Companion of the sun.

It smiles upon the lap of May,
To sultry August spreads its charm,
Lights pale October on his way,
And twines December's arm.

The purple heath and golden broom, On moory mountains catch the gale; O'er lawns the lily sheds perfume, The violet in the vale.

But this bold floweret climbs the hill,
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen,
Plays on the margin of the rill,
Peeps round the fox's den.

Within the garden's cultured round
It shares the sweet carnation's bed;
And blooms on consecrated ground
In honour of the dead.

The lambkin crops its crimson gem;
The wild bee murmurs on its breast;
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem,
Light o'er the skylark's nest.

"Tis Flora's page-in every place,
In every season, fresh and fair;
It opens with perennial grace,
And blossoms everywhere.

On waste and woodland, rock and plain,
Its humble buds unheeded rise;
The rose has but a summer reign;
The Daisy never dies!

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854.

1392.-THE REIGN OF CHRIST ON EARTH.

Hail to the Lord's anointed—'
Great David's greater Son!
Hail, in the time appointed,

His reign on earth begun!
He comes to break oppression,
To set the captive free,
To take away transgression,
And rule in equity.

He comes with succour speedy

To those who suffer wrong;,

To help the poor and needy,
And bid the weak be strong;

To give them songs for sighing,
Their darkness turn to light,
Whose souls, condemn'd and dying,
Were precious in His sight.

By such shall He be feared
While sun and moon endure-
Beloved, obey'd, revered;

For He shall judge the poor,
Through changing generations,
With justice, mercy, truth,
While stars maintain their stations
Or moons renew their youth.

He shall come down like showers
Upon the fruitful earth,
And love, joy, hope, like flowers,
Spring in His path to birth;
Before Him, on the mountains,
Shall Peace, the herald, go,
And Righteousness, in fountains,
From hill to valley flow.

Arabia's desert-ranger

To Him shall bow the knee,

The Ethiopian stranger

His glory come to see; With offerings of devotion

Ships from the isles shall meet, To pour the wealth of ocean In tribute at His feet.

Kings shall fall down before Him,
And gold and incense bring;
All nations shall adore Him,
His praise all people sing;
For He shall have dominion
O'er river, sea, and shore,
Far as the eagle's pinion

Or dove's light wing can soar.

For Him shall prayer unceasing,
And daily vows, ascend-
His kingdom still increasing,

A kingdom without end;
The mountain-dews shall nourish
A seed in weakness sown,
Whose fruit shall spread and flourish,
And shake like Lebanon.

O'er every foe victorious,

He on His throne shall rest,
From age to age more glorious,
All-blessing and all-blest;
The tide of time shall never

His covenant remove;

His name shall stand for ever;
That name to us is-Love.

James Montgomery.-Born 1771, Died 1854.

1393-THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.

A poor wayfaring man of grief

Hath often cross'd me on my way,