Fast to thy spirit gird

The shield of faith to guard in danger's hour.
Thy helmet be Salvation, and His word

Thy sword of conquering power.

Even as a daily dress,

Truth's radiant robe of grace and glory wear.
The shining breastplate of his righteousness
Like Christ's true soldier bear.

Watchman on Zion's hill!

Set the glad word of mercy to proclaim,
Make known to men thy Father's gracious will,
And magnify his name.

So when the Master's voice
Shall summon thee in glory to appear,
As peasant's heart at eventide, rejoice
The low-breathed call to hear.

And as his weary feet

Turn fondly to his home at close of day,
So may thy heart with holy rapture beat,
To tread death's heavenward way.

God keep thy soul in love,

Strong through the conquering energy of prayer,
Till gathered to his ministry above,
Thy Saviour greets thee there.

THE EARLY DEAD.

FLOWERS for the early dead!

The rose, the lily, and the violet bring, Around their quiet resting place to shed, A precious offering.

Joy for the early dead!

Joy for the meed of perfect rapture given !
Earth's phantom flash before that beam has fled,
Full-orbed and bright, of heaven.

Smiles for the early dead!

We grieve not when, his day of labor o'er,
The weary peasant bows his fainting head
At his low cottage door.

Tears for the early dead!

The bright and beautiful from earth set free:
Yes! drop upon their flower-encircled bed
Tears of sweet ecstasy.

Prayers for the early dead!

Of fervent thanksgiving and holy trust,
Through him, the Conqueror over death, be said,
Above their sleeping dust.

Songs for the early dead!

Wherewith to cheer the heart of sorrowing love, They sweep their golden harps with those who tread Celestial courts above.

Thus crown the early dead,

Whose grave is even as a hallowed shrine.

With all pure things and bright their names are wed, In union most divine.

THE RETURNING WANDERER.

WELCOME! thou blessed spot!

Too long my feet the stranger's soil have pressed. Long viewless, but, oh! never yet forgot, I seek thy blissful rest.

Welcome! my childhood's home!

How doth my soul with voiceless rapture burn!
Once more thy well-remembered haunts to roam,
My wandering footsteps turn.

Before the shrine I bow,

Holy and hallowed by the air of heaven,
Where, by the covenant of baptismal vow,
My soul to God was given.

My spirit leaps to greet

Its altar-fires, its music rich and rare,
And listen to the breathings low and sweet,
Borne on the wings of prayer.

And thou, upon whose breast

Peaceful I slept in helpless infancy,

'Whose voice in dreams I hear, mother most blest ! Weary I turn to thee.

When on the billowy deep,

Through cloud and storm my watery path I trod,
Thine eye around my way its watch did keep,
Thou ever-blessed God!

When Death's dread power was nigh,
Thy guardian love my life unharmed hath kept,
While fond affection, o'er the dying eye,

In speechless sorrow wept.

Therefore to thee I raise,

To thee, whence mercy and deliverance came,
With filial gratitude, a song of praise,

And bless thy hallowed name.

Guide me in safety through

Earth's wanderings, till death's narrow way be pressed
And the sweet founts and pastures green I view
Of my eternal rest.

THE SON OF GOD.

NOT within palace-halls

The holy Infant lay;

And yet upon those lowlier walls

Beamed a celestial ray;

Not on a downy bed

Did the Redeemer lie;

He had not where to lay his head

Beneath that Eastern sky;

And yet earth's desert wastes he trod, One with his Father and his God;

One in that holy love

Which his whole nature filled: His was the meekness of the dove; Yet from his lips distilled

Wisdom which earth can never reach, Wisdom which Heaven alone can teach.

Sin had no power to dim

The radiance of his brow;
Earth with its glories tempted him,
His soul they could not bow;
But the unsounded depths of truth
Fed the glad fountains of his youth.

Within his soul he bore

God's undisputed sign;

His seal upon his brow he wore,

Mysterious, yet divine.

Angels of spotless purity

Left their bright homes his guard to be.

The blind received their sight
At his commanding word;
Guided by truth's celestial light,

The soul's far depths he stirred.
The earth gave back its icy dead;
Disease his mandate heard, and fled.

Saviour! be thou my guide,

My refuge and my rest!

Cast down the pillars of my pride,
And in my humble breast
Erect the temple of thy grace;

And on its shrine thy signet trace.

THE VOICE OF THE FLOWERS.

A SWEET and blessed strain they swell,
The glorious-tinted flowers,

On sunny slope, in shaded dell,
To cheer our weary hours.

Their fragrant odors rise to heaven
In homage and in prayer:
Silent the dewy incense given,
Yet God is hallowed there.

Bring them to strew around your dead,
To shine above their tomb:
Bright presage from their hues is shed
Of heaven's immortal bloom.

They woo us with their balmy breath
To summer bowers on high;
They point us from decay and death.
To flowers which never die.

Praise to thee, Brightener of our hours!
For this sweet ministry,

Which, by the breath of thy fair flowers,
Is leading us to thee.