2 Now shall thy house be desolate, Nor leave one trace of ruined state, Nor shalt thou thy Redeemer see, DALE. DEATH OF A CHRISTIAN. 1 Thou art gone to the grave,-but we will not deplore thee, Tho' sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, The Saviour has pass'd through its portals before thee, And the lamp of his love is thy guide through the gloom. 2 Thou art gone to the grave,-we no longer behold thee, Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side: But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, And sinners may hope, since the sinless has died. 3 Thou art gone to the grave,-and its mansion forsaking, Perhaps thy tried spirit in doubt lingered long; But the sunshine of heav'n beam❜d bright on thy waking, And the song which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song. 4 Thou art gone to the grave, wrong to deplore thee, but 'twere When God was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy guide; He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will restore thee, Where death hath no sting, since the HEBER. LINES ON READING THE LIFE OF HENRY MARTYN. 1 Oh! long is that life which endeavours to measure The depth of devotion the bosom in spires, That warm'd by the love of a perishing world; To publish the news of salvation aspires. 2 No hardships can daunt, no dangers alarm The servant of God in his perilous way; He knows that an arm Almighty will shield him From the wind's piercing blast and the sun's scorching ray. ま 3 Though the bonds of affection unite him so closely With the friends who to him are the dearest and best, Though he feel for his country with ardent emotion, And the patriot's spirit beat high in his breast, 4 Yet these all he leaves, and surrenders for ever The joys that his country and friends can afford; Henceforward he looks for his country in heav'n, And finds a sure friend in Christ Jesus his Lord. 5 And such wert thou then, blessed servant of Jesus, When death froze thy life-springs and wither'd thy bloom; When the tongue that proclaim'd once to poor dying sinners The cross of a Saviour, was laid in the tomb. 6 No friend stood beside thee to sooth thy last moments, To soften thy pangs, or to close thy dim eye; No hand, in that hour, cared to smooth thy sick pillow, Thy couch was the earth, and thy curtain the sky. 7 No stone marks the spot where thine ashes are resting, No tear has e'er hallow'd thy cold lonely grave, But the wild warring winds whistle round thy bleak dwelling, And the fierce wint'ry torrent sweeps o'er 't with its wave. 8 But the heav'nly host sung their requiems o'er thee, And bore thee on high to the mansions above; Where, array'd all in white, and resplendent in glory, Thou reap'st the reward of thy zeal and thy love. 9 And Oh! may thy friends, as the deep sigh escapes them, While they think that their hopes, once so bright, are all fled, Remember with joy thy zeal-thy devotion. And press on with ardour where Martyn has led. T. M. RACHEL WEEPING FOR HER CHILDREN. 10 weep not o'er thy children's tomb, The bud is cropt by martyrdom, 2 Firstlings of faith, the murd’rer's knife The God for whom they gave their life, 3 Though evil were their days and few, He knows them whom they never knew, 4 0 weep not o'er thy children's tomb, The bud is cropt by martyrdom, HEBER. THE WORLD PASSES AWAY. 1 This world is all a fleeting show, The smiles of joy, the tears of wo, There's nothing true but heaven! 2 And false the light on glory's plume, And love, and hope, and beauty's bloom, s Poor wand'rers of a stormy day, |