HEAVEN. The golden palace of my God RUSSIAN POETRY. THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH. It matters little at what hour o' the day The righteous falls asleep; death cannot come To him untimely who is fit to die; The less of this cold world, the more of heaven; The briefer life the earlier immortality. MILMAN. MERCY. 1 Sweet were the sounds that reach'd our ears When mercy rais'd her heav'nly voice; 'Twas mercy that dispell'd our fears, And bade our souls in hope rejoice. 2 All other sounds discordant seem, Compar'd with mercy's heav'nly song; So sweet and joyful is the theme, It bears our willing souls along. 3 O may we never cease to hear The voice that gives our conscience rest, That dissipates our guilty fear, And tells us we are truly blest! 4 May mercy still remove our fear, And bind our souls with cords of love! Mercy that sooths our sorrows here, And gives us hope of joys above. KELLY. "O Lord, I know that in very faithfulness thou hast afflicted me." 1 For what shall I praise thee, my God and my King? For what blessings the tribute of gratitude bring? Shall I praise thee for pleasure, for health, and for ease, For the spring of delight and the sunshine of peace? 2 Shall I praise thee for flowers that bloom'd on my breast, For joys in perspective, and pleasures possess❜d? For the spirits that heighten'd my days of delight, And the slumbers that sat on my pillow by night? 3 For this should I praise thee! but, if only for this, I should leave half-untold the donation of bliss: I thank thee for sickness, for sorrow, for care, For the thorns I have gather'd, the anguish 4 For nights of anxiety, watchings, and tears, A present of pain, a perspective of fears; I praise thee, I bless thee, my King and my God, For the good and the evil thy hand hath bestow'd. 5 The flowers were sweet, but their fragrance is flown, They yielded no fruits, they are wither'd and gone, The thorn it was poignant, but precious to me, 'Twas the message of mercy,-it led me to thee. ANON. CHARITY. Charity, decent, modest, easy kind, Softens the high, and rears the abject mind; Knows, with just reins and gentle hand to guide Betwixt vile shame and arbitrary pride. One lost in certainty, and one in joy, flame, Shalt stand before the host of heav'n confest, For ever blessing, and for ever blest. PRIOR. THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. A star appear'd and peaceful threw It caught the faithful Magi's view, From far-fam'd Persia's smiling bow'rs, 2 Each heart throughout the gazing throng And softly fix'd its mellow light s There, unknown to rich and great, 4 The Prince of Peace, so young, so fair, arise! Let the hymns of the Gentiles ascend to the skies! CAMPBELL. PRAISE TO THE REDEEMER. 1 Jesse's son awakes the lyre, Listen while the Psalmist sings; |