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80. GLORYING IN THE CROSS. Let it not be, that e'er my soul in aught
Should glory touching on delight or pride,
A sacrifice of worth beyond all thought,
Give me faith's vision-let who will deride-
I boast of thee and what thy love has wrought. Beauty, and wealth, fame, dignity, and might,
A victor army dress'd in splendid show,
A throne and rey’rent crowds around that bow,Say, what is all that dazzles human sight,
Compar'd with glories, which in thee, God's Son, My eyes shall see while endless years roll on ?
81. MAN WITHOUT REVELATION. Poor man without God's heav'nly light
By ev'ry lie is cheated to his woe,-
His reason shrouded in the thickest night.
Instant are fled all wild’ring shapes below,
bright. Alas, my brother, art thou then so wise, Thou know'st the Gospel false? And dost thou
choose To put to hazard yon, blue, blessed skies, And all, that God can give, wilt madly lose ?
Keen voice from one, now lost among the dead, I hear,—“Ah! whither has thy Reason fled ?"
That God is One by all his works is shown,
Which unity of kind design display.
Behold the moon, and stars so thickly strown;
sway. Yet man deprav'd refuses to obey,
Nor gains without electing love the crown. Thanks be to God for his redeeming love,
Announc'd by Him, who hung upon the tree,
His Son, who left his glorious seat above
Lives on his throne. Then let us all adore
The when and how we know not, but to die
Is but one fixʼd and common, mortal lot;
We quit this earth and far away we fly-
Our central light, that our freed soul is brought,
Or to more distant orb in yon blue sky,
Whose rays have travell’d journeys to our sight,
Unmeasur'd by our leagues, they come so far? Yet sure at last to dwell in heav'n's own light,
Our bodies rais'd from dust by Christ, our friend,
84. CHURCHES OF PIEDMONT, 1851.. Long since it was th’ unrivall'd poet's prayer,
That God, who governs all things here below,
O’er all the fields of Italy, so fair
But centuries with God may onward flow,
We see the op’ning bud: the Alpine air
And peaceful churches meet in open day,
Where once the vallies were all red with blood. With hopeful faith we will not cease to pray,
That from its Alpine fount truth's mighty stream May flow, o'er all th' Italian fields to gleam !
85. THE LORD'S SUPPER. - This do,” said Christ, "in memory of me.”
Yes: I will drink the wine and eat the bread, The heav'nly gift, which vivifies the dead;
Mindful of thine unequall'd charity.
From dungeon to his home and fireside led,
As I do feel, O CHRIST, redeem'd by thee!
When from the prison—barriers of the grave
My captive dust in heav'nly form shall rise.
In regions calm, where tempests never rave,
Mohegan Occox!--not a chieftain's son,
Yet chieftain's soul hadst thou, for thou didst say, Thy God should have thy toil from day to day,
Till heav'nly life and glory thou hadst won.
The race of Christian goodness, and to pray
Uttring, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done.”. To preach the gospel to thy Brethren dear
And guide their wand’ring steps to heav'n above
Was e’er thy soul's delight—though work of fearFor close to their's thy heart was knit in love.
O blessed sight, if thou at last shalt see
SERMON IN MY NATIVE PLACE.
Of swift-wing'd years how rapid is the flight?
For half a hundred, on this day, save three
Allow'd me to put on the armor bright,
The ceaseless contest for true liberty ;-
And bring the blind from darkness into light. Alas, how chang'd the scene? For then were here
Full many a form of loveliness now fled,
Father and Mother, Brothers, Sisters dear, And many friends,—all sleeping with the dead.
What were I now, did not God's truth divine With bright-hued hopes upon my vision shine ?
88. NATIONAL CONVULSIONS, 1849. The tempest rages through the earth around,
Tossing the ocean into mountain waves:
And mightiest empires tremble at the sound :
Which bides the tumult, or its fury braves:
Though callid eternal, shakes and is astound:
Flees for his safety to a distant shore,
Lest falling temples on his head alight: What is there stable 'mid this wild uproar?
The CHURCH heeds not the angry billows' shock ;THY CHURCH, O LORD, is founded on a rock!
89. PSALM VIII.
How glorious in the heavens doth it shine!
thine, And o’er all worlds, in majesty elate, Thou reignest king. Then what is man's estate,
How low,--in which through pride he doth repine ? Yet thou didst give him rank almost divine,
When him with pow'r to rule thou didst create(Only a step beneath the angels high-)
O’er oxen, sheep, and beasts wild roving wide,
O'er all the fowl that in the air do fly, And fish, that in the ocean-depths do glide.
0, God! who dost all praise and glory claim, In all the earth how excellent thy name!