SABBATH EVENING. 1 Is there a time when moments flow, A Sabbath eve in summer tide. 2 O then the setting sun smiles fair, 3 And then the peace that Jesus beams, 4 Delightful scene! a world at rest, 5 If heav'n be ever felt below, A scene so heav'nly sure as this 6 Delightful hour! how soon will night 7 Yet will there dawn at last a day, Night will not veil his ceaseless ray, 1 Oh! sweet is morn's first breeze that strays on the mountain, And sighs o'er its bosom, and murmurs away; And bright is the beam which upsprings from day's fountain, And breaks o'er the East in its golden array. 2 And lovely the riv'let incessantly flowing, Which winds gently murm'ring its course through the plain; And welcome the beacon which, faithfully glowing, Cheers the heart of the mariner tossed on the main. 3 But sweeter, my God, is thy voice of compassion, Which soft as the summer's dew falls on the mind; Which whispers the tidings of life and salvation, And casts the dark shadows of sorrow behind. 4 O yes! I have known it, when, kindly and cheering, It hushed the hoarse thunders of justice to rest; F It was heard, and the angel of mercy appearing, Pour'd the balm of relief o'er the penitent's breast. 5 And still may I hear it, while crossing life's ocean, Or borne on the billow, or breath'd in the gale; Enkindling the flame of expiring devotion, And utt'ring the promise that never shall fail. 6 'Tis the still voice of Him who expir'd on the mountain, And breath'd out for sinners his last dying groan; His voice who on Calvary open'd the fountain, Of water to cleanse, and of blood to atone. 7 That voice, O believer! shall cheer and protect thee, When the cold chill of death thy frail bosom invades ; At its sound shall the Day-star arise to direct thee, And gild with refulgence the valley of shades. ANON. SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST. 1 Thou soft-flowing Kedron, by thy silver stream Our Saviour at midnight, when Cynthia's pale beam Shone bright on the waters, would oftentimes stray, And lose in thy murmurs the toils of the day! Come saints, and adore him, come bow at his feet; O give him the glory, the praise that is meet; Let joyful hosannas unceasing arise, And join the full chorus that gladdens the skies. 2 How damp were the vapours that fell on his head! How hard was his pillow! how humble his bed! The angels astonished grew sad at the sight, And follow'd their Master with solemn delight. Come saints, and adore him, come bow at his feet; O give him the glory, the praise that is meet; Let joyful hosannas unceasing arise, And join the full chorus that gladdens the skies. 3 O Garden of Olivet-dear honour'd spot! The fame of thy wonders shall ne'er b forgot! The theme most transporting to seraphs above! The triumph of sorrow, the triumph of love! Come saints, and adore him, come bow at his feet; O give him the glory, the praise that is meet; Let joyful hosannas unceasing arise, And join the full chorus that gladdens the skies. MARIE DE FLEURY. VALUE OF THE SCRIPTURES. O child of sorrow, be it thine to know The soul, reposing on assur'd relief, COWPER. JESUS. 1 My song |