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20. DEATH. Job 14.

Poor man, of woman born, is child of woe;
His days are few and fill'd with bitter grief,
With cares and pains, from which is no relief,
Till scythe of death shall lay his blossoms low.
The gen'rous tree cut down will once more grow,
And spread its branches after ruin brief
Loaded with fruits almost beyond belief;-
Such pow'r have living roots, that creep below.
But man decays, and wastes away, and dies,
His noble frame dissolving in the ground,
His spirit fled-ah, whither who can say?
Beneath the valley's clod in sleep profound
He rests, and there the sleeper quiet lies,
Till earth shall burn and heav'ns shall flee away.

21. THE STORM ON THE LAKE.

The vessel floated on the inland sea,

And Jesus found repose to nature dear,

When straight the angry storm comes wing'd with fear,

And heaving billows roll tumultuously.

Asleep in undisturb'd tranquillity,

The voice of terror breaks upon his ear, "Master! now save us, or we perish here;— We sink, unless deliv'rance comes from Thee!" He rose and said-"Ye tempests! cease to blow; Ye billows! be ye calm as infant's sleep :"When lo,the winds are hush'd and smooth the waves. Ye toss'd and tempted souls! to Jesus go; In him your faith and trust unshaken keep, And ye shall be secure, for JESUS saves !

22. ON JACQUES BALMAT.

Mont Blanc! That he first gain'd thy snow-built height
Was his great pride and boast. Yet crevice deep
Became his sudden grave, where he doth sleep,
Slid in some icy chasm with wild affright,
Shut out from human reach and human sight.

Of man's strange pride, for which the angels weep,
From this a useful lesson let man reap,

Whatever point he gains by struggling might. First scholar, artist, genius of the age,

First with the sword or with the tongue's debate, Poet strong-wing'd or philosophic sage,However loud the trump, that calls thee great,— Proud, boasting worm! just think of poor Balmat, In ice-chink plung'd from all his high eclat!

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I've struck the milk-white quartz with gentle blow,
And split with hammer fragment from the rock,
When lo, unquarried by the shiv'ring shock,
The precious Em'rald's crystal beauties glow!
Thus from the mine of thought, obscure and low,
Does force of argument the gem unlock,

Whose charms the beams of star-born diamond mock ;

That gem is Truth—the truth, which angels know! Delve patient; make the stubborn barriers fly;

Though long the toil, let hope assuage thy care; Each blow the glad and glist'ning beams may wake. With zeal contend; the inquisition ply;

Yet in debate this needful caution bear—

Be gentle, or the crystal thou mayst break!

24.

THE SABBATH.

Sweet is the dawn of tranquil holy day,

Hallow'd, e'en from the birth of time, to rest, To purest joys, and contemplations blest ;The cares of this vain world put far away. God said, "Let there be light:" and straight the play Of varied hues all nature did invest:

Creation ended,-this was God's behest ;

"Let Sabbath peace return, while earth shall stay." Once more, near thrice the hundred thousandth time, The blessed light upon the world is spread,

And wakes an heav'nly flame in many an eye :— Just emblem of that Sabbath day sublime, Whose beams in heav'n on ransom'd souls are shed In glorious brightness through eternity!

25. THE WIDOW'S SON RAISED.

No company of revellers is here,

But sad procession solemn moves and slow, While sobs are heard, and tears of anguish flow;—

A widow's only son is on the bier.

But now the mighty Son of God comes near,
And stops the moving spectacle of woe,

And says "Young man, I tell thee, rise!"
When lo

The dead man lives, and speaks in accents clear! O, what a tide of ecstasy was thine,

Blest widow, kissing that son's face once more, Then falling at His feet, who wak'd the dead! So, at another day, that voice divine

Shall reach all caverns of the grave with power, And rapture through innum'rous hearts shall spread.

26.

THANKSGIVING-DAY, 1859.

Thanks be to God on this Thanksgiving-Day
For all his wondrous goodness to our Land;
To mine, and me. Ah, who can understand
The myst❜ries of his love? To Him I pray,
With millions whom his truth and spirit sway,
That all our people may discern his hand
In their rich blessings and in one great band
Serve Him, whom all the hosts of heav'n obey.-
Yet what is now our pride is but our shame—

"Our Country's FREEDOM!" "Tis not known by all, Though loud we cry, 'tis man's most rightful claim. Methinks I hear in thunder tones heav'n's call,"Ye glorying States, that boast of LIBERTY, Look on four million SLAVES and make them FREE!"

27.

THE LORD MY SHEPHERD.

The Lord my Shepherd is-the Psalmist said-
In pastures green he gives me soft repose,
And leads where living water gently flows;
Thus ev'ry want is by his bounty fed.
When from his paths I err, by pride misled,

My soul his kind restoring mercy knows;
He brings me joy, and saves from direful woes;
Then let my tongue his praises ever spread.
Yea, though I walk through death's most dreary vale,
Where unshap'd shadows glide and bring affright,
Since thou art with me naught shall wake my fear.
The path, tho' dark and fill'd with mis'ry's wail,
Guides to yon distant, growing, glorious light,
Gleaming from throne of God in heav'ns most clear.

28. CHRIST'S RESURRECTION.

Welcome, O Day, in dazzling glory bright,
Emblem of yet another day most blest,

When all Christ's friends with him in heav'n shall rest;

For on this day, in his recover'd might, The sleeper wak'd to see this morning's light ;"The Son of God!" glad angel-hosts attest: So, when alive, most fully shown, confest, For on this day he took his heav'n-ward flight. When therefore our glad eyes this morning's sun See rising on the earth, we'll lift our thought To Him, who by his death our life hath bought, And victor-king for us a crown hath won. It e'er shall be a day of sweetest joy, Till we shall see our Lord in yonder sky!

29.

DARKNESS UNTIL HEAVENLY LIGHT.

Dark is the soul of man all hist'ry shows,
Until outshines God's pure and heav'nly light;
Till then delusions play upon his sight—
Misleading ev'ry step, as on he goes,
Each vile imposture working him great woes,
Each cheat and lie, sprung up in murky night,
Withstanding ever what is true and right,
And love of gain all honesty o'erthrows.—
Reason, a flick'ring taper, is but dim,

While pride and ev'ry passion keep their sway.
Where then can help be found except in Him,
Who spake at first, and night was turn'd to day?—
God's only Son! Shine thou on us in love;
Then shall we dwell with thee in light above!

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