1842.

All day long may truth, presiding
Over hand and eye and tongue,
Word and look and action guiding,
Keep us pure, and make us strong.

When bright Morn with rosy touches
Lifts the windows of the sky,
Lo, a witness stands and watches
All we do with piercing eye.

And when Eve, with dewy fingers,
Spreads her veil and clouds the light,
Still that awful presence lingers,

And that eye looks through the night.

The following hymns, not contained in the volume of "Gleanings," have been kindly furnished us by members of Dr. Lunt's family, and are copied from his unpublished manuscripts or from printed orders of services.

As an indication of this preacher's remarkable natural gifts as a poet, we give here a hymn which he wrote when he was only twelve years old, and which shows a matureness of thought, a facility for poetic composition, and a degree of Christian experience, which might well become a singer of twice the age.

THE SENT OF THE FATHER.

SHALL our hearts that Friend forsake

Who gave himself that we might live?

No, let our drooping faith awake,

Our grateful love may it revive.

Low at thy feet we meekly sit,

Blest Teacher of the Father's will!

To thee let every thought submit:

Say to our passions, - Peace, be still.

Thou who hast kindled in our way

With Heaven's own torch a cheering light,
To guide us to the realms of day,

Through error's maze, and sorrow's night,

In joy, in woe, in life, in death,
O may thy truth within us reign;
Be ours the spirit thou didst breathe,
Be ours the victory thou didst gain.

INSTALLATION HYMN.

Hymn sung at the installation of Rev. George W. Briggs, in Plymouth, as colleague pastor with Rev. James Kendall, D.D., Jan. 3, 1838.

NTO the wilderness was Hagar driven,

INTO

And sat and wept to think her child must die; But now that child, to vigorous manhood risen, Beholds a garden blooming in his eye.

Young watchman of the church, thy station take,
Where the gray Fathers of our Empire stood,

And saw the morning of our glory break

The Pilgrim heart beats true and faithful here,
Still fondly cherishing the pastor's name ;
And here have honored hands for many a year
Fed and renewed the altar's sacred flame.

A blessing on this hour, O God, we crave,

From thee whose spirit blessed thy Church of old;

May fervent lips, gifted with power to save,

God's truth, man's freedom, to this flock unfold.

HYMN FOR A SUNDAY SCHOOL.

Dr. Lunt was fond of writing hymns for his Sunday school. Many of his sweetest verses were for its various celebrations and anniversaries. We have already given one or two. This is another, sung at the closing of the school, Nov. 15, 1846.

HARK! the gentle Shepherd's voice:

"Little children, come to me."

"In that word our souls rejoice,
And we give our hearts to thee."

"Take my yoke, and of me learn.
I will show you what is good."
"Saviour! yes, to thee we turn,

Feed our minds with heavenly food."

"None can to the Father come
But by me the Living Way."
"Saviour! guide us to our home,
And the Father's love display."

"I was once, like you, a child,
And a child's subjection knew."
"Teach us, Saviour, to be mild,
Kind, obedient, and true.”

"Cup and cross, and thorny crown
Tell what sorrows I have known."
"Saviour! send thy spirit down,

Make thy patience all our own."

"Though in death's repose I lay,
I've ascended to the skies."
"Saviour thou hast led the way,

Teach our spirits how to rise."

THE CHANTING CHERUBS.

Written for the anniversary celebration of the Sunday-school Society connected with the Federal Street Church, Boston. Sung May 30, 1849.

́USIC'S the language of cherubs in glory,

MU

Chanting the praise of the wonderful Child;

Telling in melody Bethlehem's story,

Hymning the triumphs of earth's Undefiled.

Hark! on our ears breaks the many-tongued chorus ;
Minstrels celestial in vision we see:

Winged voices scatter the Saviour's words o'er us,
"Suffer little children to come unto me."

Music binds children to cherubs in glory,

Chanting the Blessed One's praises on high;
Catch we their glad strains, repeat we their story;
Back from young lips let the wingèd sounds fly.
Sweetest and best of the words that resounded
From Olivet's mount or by Galilee's sea;
List! he repeats them, by cherubs surrounded,
"Suffer little children to come unto me."

CREATION'S PRAYER.

66 'And it shall come to pass in that day, I will hear, saith the Lord, I will hear the heavens, and they shall hear the earth; and the earth shall hear the corn, and the wine, and the oil; and they shall hear Jezreel.". HOSEA ii. 21, 22.

ONE prayer, with never-ceasing sound,

Circles Creation's ample round;

While all below, and all above,

Turn, genial Parent, to thy love.

The corn, and vine, and olive fair,
Hearken to needy mortal's prayer;
And hope, from earth's all-fostering breast,
To draw their fatness, life, and zest.

The nightly mother for her brood,
Anxious to yield their wonted food,
Looks up and asks the heavenly powers
For quickening heat and softening showers.

The flying clouds and fiery ball
Listen to earth's entreating call;
But these implore a Will divine
For leave to drop, and power to shine.

Thus through Creation's ample round

One prayer is heard with pauseless sound;
While all below, and all above

Turn, genial Parent, to thy love.

Dr. Lunt began a versification of the Psalms. He completed only the first three, leaving the fourth in an unfinished state. We cannot close our notice of him and of his productions without reference to the beautiful poem which he wrote for the laying of the corner-stone of the Sailor's Snug Harbor, at Quincy, July 14, 1856. This was his last poem; and the author's recital of it at the time and place just mentioned produced a deep effect upon all who heard him. Father Taylor, who was present, was most powerfully moved, as those can understand who know what was his deep sympathy and love for seamen, and what was his great tender heart. The lines are given in full in Miss Lunt's 'Gleanings." We give here only the closing ones.

66

And when the Ancient Mariner shall see

The gloomy waters of Eternity,

And in his need, despairing help below,

Call for a Pilot's skill to steer him through,

Then may that form benign, whose power to save

Held trembling Peter steady on the wave,

Conduct the trusting soul, in safety o'er,

To a Snug Harbor on the heavenly shore.