50. REMOVAL OF SEVERE ILLNESS.

Short seem'd the step down to the awful

grave,

Where ev'ry vig'rous limb all stiffen'd lies,
And greedy worms in us hold revelries,

While weeds and grasses o'er my bed shall wave. This world of ours, built up so beauteous, brave, Must it be faded ever from my eyes?

Shall my dull ear hear no sweet symphonies? And from this dreaded doom can naught me save? Naught sav'd me but thy pow'r, O God of love! I live again to Thee be all the praise;

:

And let me live with heart on things above, As one, in all things whom thy Spirit sways; So serving Christ, as sure to me 'tis given To see him in a brighter world—in heaven!

51. GOD MAN'S ALL-SUFFICIENT GOOD.

Although no blossom'd fig tree deck the field,
Nor fruit hangs clust'ring on the joyful vine,
To give, when press'd, the spirit-cheering wine,
Nor cultur'd ground the needful food doth yield;
Although the flocks the fold no longer shield,
Nor sheep and goats from rav'nous wolves confine;
Although no grazing herds, as once, are mine,
And all my gold to robbers is reveal'd;
Yet in Jehovah will my soul rejoice,

The God of my salvation; songs shall rise
To him, whose favor is my treasur'd gold.
His bounty forces on my better choice
The ever-gladd'ning fruits of paradise,

And heav'n's unmeasur'd good, and joys untold.

52. THE DEATH OF REV. DR. I. NICHOLS.

In boyhood's prime our four years' course being done In band of numbers unsurpass'd before,

All said, as richest gems we counted o'er,"The highest rank Thou, youngest, yet hast won." Again, when now brief interval was run,

Our toils renew'd as long a time once more In Harvard's walls, t' acquire the honey'd store.Since then just fifty years our lives have spun.A few days past I hail'd my birth-day light; Alas, it was thy day of death, my friend,

When thy keen eyes were clos'd in deepest night: Yet 'twas thy birth to life without an end!

Thy trust be mine-is now my sick-bed pray'r— In God's own Son, who came our sins to bear.

53. THE VOICE OF NATURE TO POETS.

Your homage has been paid me much too long,
Withheld from him, who made me fair and good,
His image to reflect from earth and flood,
And wake for him the Bard's sublimest song.—
No eagle, mounting on his pinions strong,

Nor sweetly-warbling Nightingale in wood,
No humble flow'r with tint of sky or blood,
Nor scaly fish, nor murm'ring insect throng;
No shaggy beast beneath the forest wide,
No crystal gleaming in its rocky bed,
Nor glossy shell beneath the emʼrald sea;
No rippling brook, nor stream of swollen pride,
No golden cloud, nor star in silence led,
FATHER OF ALL! but speaks aloud of Thee!

54. THE CROSS AND CROWN.

Bright symbols, which a daughter's hand hath wove, What more significant before mine eyes

Or showing forth sublimer mysteries,The color'd Cross the suff'ring Savior's love, The Crown of green his Father's gift above?Why bear these autumn leaves such crimson dyes, Save to express his death, his agonies,

Whose hand outspread each decorated grove? If all be, then, the purchase of his blood,All who repent, and love, believe, obey, Who, now redeem'd, walk in the upward way, Cheer'd with the hope of heav'n's eternal good,— Let me not boast of all within my thought, Save in Christ's CROSS, by which my CROWN was bought.

55. DYING I AM BLEST.

Great kings must leave their thrones and rule unjust, Philosophers forget their idle schemes,

Beauty her form, and poets too their dreams, And rich men mingle with the worthless dust. Alas, what is the earth to poor man's trust?

How fleeting all earth's joys, like rushing streams! Yet 'tis not dark to me: I see bright gleams, Which from my God on high on me outburst,Visions of good eternal in the skies :—

My sins effac'd by blood,―redeeming love,— God's Son, once on the cross, enthroned above,My long-lost ones again before my eyes,

With all the good.-I cry, "Death brings me rest; Through thee, O Jesus, DYING I AM BLEST!"

56. COMPACT ON BOARD THE MAYFLOWER.

The wondrous "Mayflow'r," floating on the sea,
Wafting the noble Pilgrims to the west,

As yet had found no circling shore for rest, Though land was near; 'tis now her Company To guard against disorders, which might be, And firm foundation lay for empire blest, Their "Solemn Compact" made, that none might wrest,

Each pledg'd the Rule to follow cheerfully. Freedom and Law are bound in union sweet; For all have equal pow'r till common vote Authority confer, to which all bow,

Its exercise restrain'd, as is most meet,

To Public Good. No acts of their's denote
A thought their Chief could private int❜rest know.

57. TO JESUS CHRIST, GOD'S SON.

O, blessed, first-born Son of God most high,
By whom the sun and all the worlds of light
Were summon'd from the gloom of deepest night,
While this low earth was shap'd before thine eye,—
Didst Thou earth's ills in human form defy,

Leaving thy glorious, heav'nly mansion bright,
To save lost man, and vindicate God's right,
And on the cross, nail'd hands and feet, didst die?—
O, wondrous truth, beyond all truths we know!
With love our trembling lips pronounce thy name;
With speechless gratitude our hearts o'erflow!
But Thou didst rise from thy sad doom of shame,
And, while angelic hosts hail Thee and greet,
At God's right hand didst find thine ancient seat.

58. TO DR. THOMSON, MISSIONARY.

Old WARRIOR, two decades of years and more
Have sped, since thou didst arm thee for the fight,
Since thou didst wield thy sword with hero's might,
Warring just where apostles fought of yore.
'Twas Charity, which o'er two oceans bore

Thee and thy fellows from this land of light
To seek God's ancient mount in error's night
And Zion's long-lost glory to restore.
Thy warfare is to last while thou hast breath;
Sure is the vict❜ry which to Christ is given;
Earth shall yet bear the sun-light stamp of heaven.
And when at last thine eye shall close in death,
Thy life, we know, through Christ's atoning blood,
Shall be where God outbeams light's endless flood.

59. HAPPY OLD AGE.

'Tis good our destin'd course in life to run,
New forms of beauty bursting on the sight,
The clouds soon gone, that bring a feeble night,
Still holding on our way, like glorious sun.
What noble prize has sluggishness e'er won?
'Tis toil of day, that brings sweet rest at night,
And mingled joys make e'en our sorrows light:
The bliss we taste is bliss but just begun.
From height of age we gaze on years gone by;

The fruits of many a deed of good appear, From which new plants are waving to the eye. Forward we look; no terrors we descry,

But all is light, and peace, and pleasures dear:
One step will gain the glories of the sky!