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Shall we build to Affection and Love? Ah no! they have wither'd and died,
Or fled with the spirit above. Friends, brothers, and sisters, are laid side by
side, Yet none have saluted, and none have replied.
Night is the time to watch ;
On ocean's dark expanse To hail the Pleiades, or catch
The full moon's earliest glance, That brings unto the home-sick mind All we have loved and left behind.
Unto Sorrow ?—the Dead cannot grieve; Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine ear,
Which Compassion itself could relieve. Ah, sweetly they slumber, nor love, hope, or
fear; Peace! peace is the watchword, the only one
here. Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow ? Ah no! for his empire is known,
And here there are trophies enow! Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark
stone, Are the signs of a sceptre that none may
disown. The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise ! The second to Faith, which insures it ful.
fill'd ; And the third to the Lamb of the great
sacrifice, Who bequeath'd us them both when He rose
to the skies. Herbert Knowles.-Born 1798, Died 1817.
Night is the time for care ;
Brooding on hours misspent, To see the spectre of despair
Come to our lonely tent; Like Brutus, 'midst his slumbering host, Startled by Cæsar's stalwart ghost. Night is the time to muse ;
Then from the eye the soul
Beyond the starry pole,
Our Saviour oft withdrew
So will his followers do ;
And hold communion there with God..
Night is the time for death;
When all around is peace, Calmly to yield the weary breath,
From sin and suffering cease: Think of heaven's bliss, and give the sign To parting friends—such death be mine! James Montgomery.—Born 1771, Died 1854.
Night is the time for rest;
How sweet, when labours close, To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose, Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head Upon our own delightful bed !
1385.—THE GRAVE. There is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found, They softly lie and sweetly sleep
Low in the ground.
Though long of winds and waves the sport,
A quiet home.
A surer, blow ?
The storm that wrecks the winter sky
That shuts the rose.
From all my toil.
Take home thy child !
“I am the Grave!
Live! and repine not o'er his loss,
For friendship's gold.
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 ?
But kills the heart.
The Grave, that never spake before,
Be silent, pride!
By fell despair?
Murder thy rest?
fleo ? Ah! think not, hope not, fool! to find
A friend in me.
By death and hell!
And sin no more.
Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear,
Till she reply!
In woman's love.
The hand of God.
A bruised reed he will not break;
He wounds to heal !
Humbled beneath his mighty hand, Prostrate his Providence adore : 'Tis done !-Arise! He bids thee stand,
To fall no more.
Art thou a mourner? Hast thou known
And tranquil nights ?
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 ?
Now, traveller in the vale of tears !
Pursue thy flight.
Low in the ground;
A star of day!
The sun is but a spårk of fire,
Shall never dic."
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.
He loved—but whom he loved the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb :
Her beauty from the tomb.
Encounter'd all that troubles thee :
He is—what thou shalt be.
Sun, moon, and stars, the earth and main, Erewhile his portion, life and light,
To him exist in vain.
That once their shades and glory threw,
No vestige where they flew. The annals of the human race,
Their ruins, since the world began,
Than this—there lived a man !
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,
In the wildest weather ;
For the joys of life from home.
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 :
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.
The falling of a tear ;
When none but God is near.
That infant lips can try ;
The Majesty on high.
The Christian's native air ;
He enters heaven by prayer.
Returning from his ways ;
And say “Behold he prays !
In word, and deed, and mind,
Their fellowship they find.
The Holy Spirit pleads ;
For sinners intercedes.
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
Lord, teach us how to pray !
That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear,
Alternate triumph'd in his breast; His bliss and woema smile, a tear!
Oblivion hides the rest.
The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall ;
For these are felt by all.
Enjoy'd-but his delights are fled ;
And foes-his foes are dead.
Then, while it slumbers, watch its breath,
This is a Mother's Love.
roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy
home! James Montgomery. - Born 1771, Died 1854.
To mark its growth from day to day,
Its opening charms admire,
Of intellectual fire ;
This is a Mother's Love.
Can she forget her boy ?
Nor weep for grief-for joy?
Is this a Mother's Love?
Ye clasp your babes and kiss ;
Yet, ah ! remember this,-
-Is this a Mother's Love?
The child she loves so well,
Down the smooth road to hell ;
Even with a Mother's Love.
1390.–A MOTHER'S LOVE.
What is a Mother's love ?
Enkindled from above,
This is a Mother's Love.
Blest infant! whom his mother taught
Early to seek the Lord,
The day-spring of the word ;
Behold that Mother's Love.
By her own parent trod,
And know the fear, of God :
Taught by that Mother's Love.
What was that Mother's Love?
That kindles from above,
This was that Mother's Love.
To bring a helpless babe to light,
Then, while it lies forlorn,
And feel herself new-born,
This is a Mother's Love.
Its weakness in her arms to bear ;
To cherish on her breast,
And lull it there to rest;
1391.-TO A DAISY.
There is a flower, a little flower
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,
To give them songs for signing,
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 endureBeloved, obey'd, revered ;
For He shall judge the poor, Through changing generations,
With justice, mercy, truth, Whilo stars maintain their stations
Or moons renew their youth.
Upon the fruitful earth,
Spring in His path to birth;
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.
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,
The lambkin crops its crimson gem;
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-
A kingdom without end;
A seed in weakness sown,
And shake like Lebanon.
On waste and woodland, rock and plain,
1392.—THE REIGN OF CHRIST ON
Great David's greater Son !
His reign on earth begun! He comes to break oppression,
To set the captive free,
And rule in equity.
To those who suffer wrong;,
And bid the weak be strong;
O’er every foe victorious,
He on His throne shall rest,
All-blessing and all-blest;
His covenant remove;
That name to us is-Love.
1393.—THE STRANGER AND HIS
Hath often cross'd me on my way,