Hear the rich music of that voice,

Which sounds from all, below, above;

She calls her children to rejoice,

And round them throws her arms of love.

Drink in her influence: low-born care,

And all the train of mean desire,
Refuse to breathe this holy air,
And in this living light expire.

THE PARTING.

"Christian Examiner," January and February No., 1824.

E did not part as others part;

WE

And should we meet on earth no more, Yet deep and dear within my heart

Some thoughts will rest, a treasured store.

How oft, when weary and alone,

Have I recalled each word, each look,

The meaning of each varying tone,

And the last parting glance we took!

Yes, sometimes even here are found

Those who can touch the chords of love,

And wake a glad and holy sound,

Like that which fills the courts above.

It is as when a traveller hears,

In a strange land, his native tongue,

A voice he loved in happier years,

A song which once his mother sung.

We part: the sea may roll between,

While we through different climates roam; Sad days a life- may intervene ;

But we shall meet again— at home.

FORTITUDE.

"Christian Disciple," July and August No., 1822.

FAINT not, poor traveller, though thy way

Be rough, like that thy Saviour trod; Though cold and stormy lower the day, This path of suffering leads to God.

Nay, sink not, though from every limb
Are starting drops of toil and pain;
Thou dost but share the lot of Him,
With whom his followers are to reign.

Thy friends are gone, and thou, alone,
Must bear the sorrows that assail;
Look upward to the eternal throne,
And know a Friend who cannot fail.

Bear firmly yet a few more days,
And thy hard trial will be past;
Then, wrapt in glory's opening blaze,
Thy feet shall rest on heaven at last.

Christian thy Friend, thy Master prayed,
When dread and anguish shook his frame;
Then met his sufferings undismayed,

Wilt thou not strive to do the same?

Oh! think'st thou that his Father's love
Shone round him then with fainter rays
Than now, when, throned all height above,
Unceasing voices hymn his praise?

Go, sufferer! calmly meet the woes

Which God's own mercy bids thee bear; Then, rising, as thy Saviour rose,

Go! his eternal victory share.

ོ།

HE

FUNERAL HYMN.

"Christian Examiner," January and February No., 1824

E has gone to his God, he has gone to his home ;
No more amid peril and error to roam.

His eyes are no longer dim,

His feet no more will falter ;

No grief can follow him,

No pang his cheek can alter.

There are paleness, and weeping, and sighs below;

For our faith is faint, and our tears will flow;

But the harps of heaven are ringing,

Glad angels come to greet him,

And hymns of joy are singing,

While old friends press to meet him.

O honored, beloved! to earth unconfined,

Thou hast soared on high, thou hast left us behind; But our parting is not for ever.

We will follow thee by heaven's light,

Where the grave cannot dissever

The souls whom God will unite.

ON THE CLOSE OF THE YEAR.

"Christian Examiner," Nov. and Dec. No., 1827.

ANOTHER year! another year!

The unceasing rush of time sweeps on ;

Whelmed in its surges, disappear
Man's hopes and fears, for ever gone.

Oh, no! forbear that idle tale;

The hour demands another strain, Demands high thoughts that cannot quail, And strength to conquer and retain.

'Tis midnight. From the dark-blue sky

The stars, which now look down on earth, Have seen ten thousand centuries fly,

And give to countless changes birth.

And when the pyramids shall fall,

And, mouldering, mix as dust in air, The dwellers on this altered ball

May still behold them glorious there.

Shine on

shine on! with you I tread
The march of ages, orbs of light!
A last eclipse o'er you may spread ;
To me, to me, there comes no night.

Oh! what concerns it him whose way
Lies upward to the immortal dead,
That a few hairs are turning gray,

Or one more year of life has fled?

Swift years! but teach me how to bear,
To feel and act with strength and skill,

To reason wisely, nobly dare,

And speed your courses as you will.

When life's meridian toils are done,

How calm, how rich the twilight glow,

The morning twilight of a sun

That shines not here on things below!

But sorrow, sickness, death, the pain

To leave or lose, wife, children, friends, What then? Shall we not meet again,

Where parting comes not, sorrow ends?

The fondness of a parent's care,

The changeless trust which woman gives, The smile of childhood, — it is there

That all we love in them still lives.

Press onward through each varying hour;
Let no weak fears thy course delay:
Immortal being! feel thy power,

Pursue thy bright and endless way.

HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH.

1833.

WHERE ancient forests round us spread,

Where bends the cataract's ocean-fall,

On the lone mountain's silent head,
There are thy temples, God of all!

Beneath the dark-blue midnight arch,

Whence myriad suns pour down their rays,
Where planets trace their ceaseless march,
Father! we worship as we gaze.

The tombs thy altars are; for there,

When earthly loves and hopes have fled,

To thee ascends the spirit's prayer,
Thou God of the immortal dead!

All space is holy; for all space

Is filled by thee; but human thought
Burns clearer in some chosen place,

Where thy own words of love are taught.

Here be they taught; and may we know
That faith thy servants knew of old,
Which onward bears through weal and woe,
Till Death the gates of heaven unfold.

Nor we alone may those whose brow
Shows yet no trace of human cares,
Hereafter stand where we do now,
And raise to thee still holier prayers.