I do not bid thee now farewell,

(A prayer unmeet for life like thine,) With thy beloved in heaven I dwell,

And thy beloved on earth are mine;

My heart with them, and theirs with thee, How canst thou, dear one, distant be?

We tarry still upon the road,

Our path goes on, we know not where,— But God is always our abode,

And we are sure to meet thee there: Our life His charge, our work His will, To love thee is delightful still.

Soon, yes, it must be soon, we know,
Our work of faith and love complete,
We to thy happy home shall go,

And find thee at our Father's feet.
There His Belovèd prepares our place,
And we shall see thee face to face.

Meanwhile to thee, with whom we live
A secret life by night and day,
Pain we are sure we cannot give,
But pleasure I believe we may :
And this belief henceforth shall be
New life, new strength, new joy to me.

XXI.

A NEW YEAR'S MORNING SONG.

"He hath put a new song in my mouth, even thanksgiving unto our God."-PSALM xl. 3.

THANKSGIVING and the voice of melody,
This new year's morning, call me from my sleep:
A new sweet song is in my heart for Thee,
Thou faithful tender Shepherd of the sheep:
Thou knowest where to find, and how to keep
The feeble feet that tremble where they stray:
O'er the dark mountains-through the whelming
deep,-

Thy everlasting mercy makes its way.

The past is not so dark as once it seemed,

For there Thy footprints now distinct I see; And seed in weakness sown, from death re

deemed,

Is springing up, and bearing fruit in Thee.

Not all that hath been, Lord, henceforth shall be:
A low, sweet, cheering strain is in mine ear,
Thanksgiving, and the voice of melody,
Are ushering in from Heaven a blest new year.

With voice subdued, my listening spirit sings, As backward on the trodden path I

gaze,

While ministering angels fold their wings
To fill with lowly thoughts my song of praise.
The shadow of the past on future days

Will make them clear to my instructed sight; For the heart's knowledge of Thy sacred ways, Even in its deepest, darkest shades, is light.

I am not stronger-yet I do not fear
The present pain, the conflict yet to be;
Experience is a kind voice in mine ear,
And all my failings bid me lean on Thee.
No future suffering can seem strange to me,
While in the hidden part I feel and know,
The wisdom of a child at rest and free

In the tried love whose judgment keeps him low.

Thanksgiving and the voice of melody!

Oh, to my tranquil heart how sweet the strain,—
Father of mercies, it arose in Thee,
And to thy bosom it returns again.
There let my grateful song, my soul, remain,
Calm in the risen Saviour's tender care;
And welcome any trial, any pain,

That serves to keep Thy faithful children there.

Thoughts of Thy love-and oh, how great the

sum!

Enduring grief, obtaining bliss, for me,—

The world, life, death, things present, things to come,

All swell the new year's opening melody.
Past, present, future, all things worship Thee;
And I, through all, with trembling joy behold,
While mountains fall, and treacherous visions
flee,

Thy wandering sheep returning to the fold.

XXII.

"Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: Thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to Thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever."--PSALM Xxx. 11, 12.

STRENGTH of the still, secluded thought,
That fears, yet longs, its joy to show,-
The hope, the awe, in mercy taught

To make me strong, to keep me low,―
Now shall my girded heart rejoice,

In praise poured out, in love expressed, Now will I bless Thee, with a voice

That shall not break this sacred rest.

Once, moved by every mortal pain,
By every pleasure quickly past,
I feared to speak in joyful strain
Of hidden life that might not last,

Now, from a well that will not fail,

In Thee my deep rejoicing springs; Now, from Thy rest within the veil,

My spirit looks on passing things.

Once, with Thy tired ones homeward bent,
In hope that rose their fears above,
My leaping heart could be content
To greet them with a silent love.
I too had walked with weary feet,
And heard the exulting shout too near;
I too had felt the toil and heat,

The wind and storm I did not fear.

Perhaps the Heavenward look in store,
The speechless prayer for strength or rest,
Might help those needy spirits more
Than hope set forth or joy expressed.
But I was changed, I knew not how,
By the same love that chose their ways;
I might be just as weary now,

And yet rejoice to hear Thy praise.

Now would I cheer the faint in heart
With sound of joy they too shall see:
Now would I put the fear apart

That bids me hide Thy strength in me.
What though the mortal flesh be frail,
The willing spirit prone to sink,-
There is a stream in Baca's vale

Whereof Thy feeblest child may drink.