Shoot out its starry* light,

To guide our pilgrim way;

A sign of hope through this world's night,
And brighter than its day.

Again thy witness-voice!

Again thy spirit-dove ! *

That hearts may in its trust rejoice,

And soften with its love.

Send round its blessed cup *

As once in Galilee ;

And catch our dull affections up

To heaven, and Christ, and Thee.

THE CHURCH.

Written for the ordination of Mr. Henry W. Bellows, at New York, 1837.

O

LORD of life, and truth, and grace,

Ere Nature was begun!

Make welcome to our erring race

Thy Spirit and thy Son.

We hail the Church, built high o'er all

The heathen's rage and scoff;

Thy providence its fencèd wall,

"The Lamb the light thereof.”

Thy Christ hath reached his heavenly seat
Through sorrows and through scars;

The golden lamps are at his feet,

And in his hand the stars.†

* One of three ancient symbols, in the Church, of Christ's manifestation to the

Gentiles.

† Revelations ii. 1.

Teach thou thy youthful servant, Lord,
The mysteries he reveals,

That reverence may receive the word,
And meekness loose the seals.

HYMN OF DEDICATION.

For the dedication of the Church of the Saviour, Boston, Nov. 10, 1847.

SAVIOUR, whose immortal word

For ever lasts the same!

Thy grace within the walls afford,
Here builded to thy name.

No other name is named below,

No other sign unfurled,

To lead our hope, or quell our woe,
Or sanctify the world.

Here, many-tongued, thy truth be found,

And mind and heart employ;

Thy Law and Promise pour around
Their terror and their joy!

Here may thy saints new progress make;
Thy loitering ones be sped;

And here thy mourners comfort take,
And here thy poor be fed.

COMMUNION HYMN.

"Do this in remembrance of me."
"How he was known of them in breaking of bread."

"REMEMBER me," the Saviour said,

On that forsaken night,

When from his side the nearest fled,
And death was close in sight.

Through all the following ages' track
The world remembers yet;
With love and worship gazes back,
And never can forget.

But who of us has seen his face,
Or heard the words he said?
And none can now his look retrace
In breaking of the bread.

Oh, blest are they, who have not seen,

And yet believe him still!

They know him, when his praise they mean, And when they do his will.

We hear his word along our way;

We see his light above;

Remember when we strive and pray,
Remember when we love.

STRENGTH.

To a Friend near Death.

WHEN I am weak, I'm strong,"

The great Apostle cried.

The strength, that did not to the earth belong, The might of Heaven supplied.

Blind Milton caught that strain,

And flung its victory o'er the ills that throng
Round Age, and Want, and Pain.

“When I am weak I'm strong,"

Each Christian heart repeats ;

These words will tune its feeblest breath to song,

And fire its languid heats.

"When I am weak, I'm strong,"

That saying is for you,

Dear friend, and well it may become your tongue, Whose soul has found it true.

O Holy Strength! whose ground

Is in the heavenly land;

And whose supporting help alone is found

In God's immortal hand.

O blessed! that appears

When fleshly aids are spent ;

And girds the mind, when most it faints and fears, With trust and sweet content.

It bids us cast aside

All thoughts of lesser powers;

Give up all hopes from changing time and tide,

And all vain will of ours.

We have but to confess

That there's but one retreat;

And meekly lay each need and each distress

Down at the sovereign Feet:

Then, then it fills the place

Of all we hoped to do;

And sunken nature triumphs in the grace

That bears us up and through.

A better glow than health

Flushes the cheek and brow;

The heart is stout with store of nameless wealth:

We can do all things now.

No less sufficience seek;

All counsel less is wrong;

The whole world's force is poor and mean and weak, "When I am weak, I'm strong."

The following selections are from the second volume of "Metrical Pieces :"

HOMEWARD FROM FOREIGN LANDS.

"Then I said, I shall die in my nest." - JOB xxix. 18.

THERE are they who have left their sweet home,
Through these strange distant places to roam,

And no more back, no more, ever come;
And I sigh, with their memory oppressed,
"Let me die in my nest."

When the troubles of nature are rife,
And the heart with itself is at strife,
For then Death is in conflict with Life,
I submit to the sovereign behest,

But would die in my nest.

Where within me the first thoughts were dreamed,

And upon me affection first beamed,

And through blossoms and tears my spring teemed;
Amid scenes and companions loved best,

I would die in my nest.