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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, Save in the wondrous cross of HIM, who died. A sacrifice of worth beyond all thought, With inf'nite blessings to the guilty fraught. Give me faith's vision-let who will derideO blessed JESUS! of thy pierced side:

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 rev'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,—
As hist'ry of the world doth fully show,-
His reason shrouded in the thickest night.
But when the Truth beams on his purged sight,
Instant are fled all wild'ring shapes below,
Whose terrors waken'd all his spirit's throe:
Thus chang'd the scene where shines the Gospel
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?"

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That God is One by all his works is shown,
Which unity of kind design display.
Behold the distant, glorious orb of day;
Behold the moon, and stars so thickly strown;
God's goodness by their harmony is known:

One Mind, most wise and good, bears boundless 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 Our guilt t'atone; but who from death set free · Lives on his throne. Then let us all adore The Father and the Lamb forevermore !

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The when and how we know not, but to die
Is but one fix'd and common, mortal lot;
Yet death is wondrous to our human thought!
We quit this earth and far away we fly—
But whither? Is it to the Sun on high,
Our central light, that our freed soul is brought,
If worthy of such place, without a blot;
Or to more distant orb in yon blue sky,
To some scarce-seen but faintly-twinkling star,
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,
In his own likeness,-ages without end!

84.

CHURCHES OF PIEDMONT, 1851.

Long since it was th' unrivall'd poet's prayer,
That God, who governs all things here below,
The ashes of his slaughter'd saints would sow
O'er all the fields of Italy, so fair

To sight, but desolate of truth and bare.—
But centuries with God may onward flow,
Ere man his ripen'd purposes can know:
We see the op'ning bud: the Alpine air
Not now is fill'd with moans but praise of God;
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.

No thrall, who drops his chain, and walks forth free,
From dungeon to his home and fireside led,
E'er felt through all his frame such rapture spread,
As I do feel, O CHRIST, redeem'd by thee!
And thou wilt yet still greater bliss bestow,
When from the prison-barriers of the grave
My captive dust in heav'nly form shall rise.
Then shall I taste the joys, which angels know,
In regions calm, where tempests never rave,
Nor clouds e'er float across the crystal skies.

86. THE INDIAN PREACHER.

Mohegan Оccom!—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.
So in thy youth thou didst begin to run
The race of Christian goodness, and to pray
In humble faith and love to God alway,
Utt'ring, "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 fear—
For close to their's thy heart was knit in love.
O blessed sight, if thou at last shalt see
The ransom'd ones the Lord hath giv'n to thee!

87. SERMON IN MY NATIVE PLACE. 1851.

Of swift-wing'd years how rapid is the flight?
For half a hundred, on this day, save three
Have fled since God in his great love to me
Allow'd me to put on the armor bright,

By him supplied to fit me for the fight,

The ceaseless contest for true liberty;—

For truth alone can set the sinner free,

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?

S8. NATIONAL CONVULSIONS, 1849.

The tempest rages through the earth around,
Tossing the ocean into mountain waves:

Thrones shake and totter, as the storm-wind raves, And mightiest empires tremble at the sound: Man has no structure on the solid ground,

Which bides the tumult, or its fury braves: The sev'n-hill'd City, which the Tiber laves, Though call'd eternal, shakes and is astound: E'en its proud chief and priest, in sad affright, 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!

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In all the earth, O Lord, thy name how great,
How glorious in the heavens doth it shine!
Sun, moon, and stars, which thou hast made, are
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.

O, God! who dost all praise and glory claim,
In all the earth how excellent thy name!

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