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It is the one True Light,
That, when all other lamps grow dim, Shall never burn less purely bright,
Nor lead astray from HIM. It is Love's blessed band,
That reaches from the eternal throne To him-whoe'er he be-whose hand
Will seize it for his own!
It is the Golden Key
To treasures of celestial wealth, Joy to the sons of poverty,
And to the sick man, health !
The gently proffer'd aid
Of one who knows us, and can best Supply the beings he has made
With what will make them bless'd.
It is the sweetest sound
That infant years delight to hear, Travelling across that holy ground,
With God and angels near. There rests the weary head,
There age and sorrow love to go; And how it smooths the dying bed,
O! let the Christian show!
THE GOD OF THE STORM AND THE WHIRLWIND.
Thou thy stern robe of terrors hast put on,
O mighty Ruler of the winds and waves !
The spirit bows to thee from ocean caves Even to the expansive heaven of heavens, thy throne, All elements, all beings trembling own
The greatness of thy presence. 'Tis the hour
Of vast, unmitigated, boundless power,
Even in this hour of dread, that dear to thee
Fierce tempests! but to pass His fix'd decree, Or 'gainst His will one moment's war to wage, Is more than ye can do, with all your swelling rage.
SWEET Peace, where dost thou dwell ?--I humbly
And ask'd if Peace were there.
Go, seek elsewhere.”
I did, and, going, did a rainbow note.
“Surely," thought I,
I will search out the matter."
Did break and scattér.
Then went I to a garden, and did spy
A gallant flower-
“ Peace at the root must dwell.”
What show'd so well.
At length, I met a reverend, good old man;
Whom, when for Peace
" There was a prince of old In Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase
Of flock and fold.
“He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save
His life from foes :
There sprang twelve stalks of wheat,
To plant and set.
"It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse
Through all the earth.
That virtue lies therein ;
“ Take of this grain, which in my garden grów,
And grows for you :
And peace which everywhere
Is only there.”
THE DEATH OF THE VIRTUOUS.
Sweet is the scene when virtue dies !
When sinks a righteous soul to rest,
How gently heaves the expiring breast !
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er ;
So dies a wave along the shore.
Fann'd by some angel's purple wing :
And where, insidious Death! thy sting ?
Where light and shade alternate dwell :
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell !
Light from its load the spirit flies;
“ Sweet is the scene when virtue dies."
LOVE TO CHRIST.
IF Love, the noblest, purest, best,
If Truth, all other truth above,
O, surely Jesus claims our love !
Forget its office, than the heart,
Desert its own appointed part.
Triumphant over death and time,
Forerunner of our course sublime.
His image meets me in the hour
Of joy, and brightens every smile; I see him when the tempests lower,
Each terror soothe, each grief beguile. I see him in the daily round
Of social duty, mild and meek; With him I tread the hallow'd ground,
Communion with my God to seek. I see his pitying, gentle eye,
When lonely want appeals for aid; I hear him in the frequent sigh,
That mourns the waste which sin has made.