529 IT IS GOOD TO BE HERE. To Riches? Alas! 'tis in vain: The treasures are squander'd again; And here in the grave are all mortals forbid To the Pleasures which Mirth can afford? Ah! here is a plentiful board, But the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer, Shall we build to Affection and Love? Ah! no; they have wither'd and died, Friends, brothers, and sisters, are laid side by side, Unto Sorrow? The dead cannot grieve, Which compassion itself could relieve; Ah! sweetly they slumber, nor hope, love, or fear; Unto Death? to whom monarchs must bow! Ah! no; for his empire is known, And here there are trophies enow; Beneath, the cold dead-and around, the dark stone The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, The second to Faith, which insures it fulfill'd, And the third to the LAMB of the Great Sacrifice, Who bequeathed us them both when he rose to the skies. HERBERT KNOWLES. An Hour with God. ONE hour with Thee, my God! when daylight breaks To praise the love that watch'd me while I slept; When with new strength my blood is bounding free, That first, best, sweetest hour, I'll give to Thee. One hour with Thee, when busy day begins O then to arm me for the strife, to be Faithful to death, I'll kneel an hour to Thee. One hour with Thee, when rides the glorious sun For one short hour with urging life's swift wheels; In that deep pause my soul from care shall flec, One hour with Thee, when sadden'd twilight flings Z X X X X Q OQOX XXXV AN HOUR WITH GOD. One hour with Thee, my God! when softly night Are telling forth thy praise to men below; Oh then, while far from earth my thoughts would flee, The Christmas Offering. Z R R R R X X X Q Hymn of the Waldenses. EAR, Father, hear thy faint afflicted flock Yet better were this mountain wilderness, Thou, Lord, dost hold the thunder; the firm land Tosses in billows when it feels thy hand; Stillest the angry world to peace again. Oh! touch their stony hearts who hurt thy sons- Yet, mighty God, yet shall thy frown look forth BRYANT. The Warning Voice. My youth had glad and golden hours, but these were few and fleet, And so, with not a friend to cheer or counsel me, was thrown I in the path of letters toil'd—that path so thickly spread But cheerly, now, my vessel glides:-the quicksand and the shoal of foes whom, in my uphill road, I found so fierce and strong, My cottage hath a blazing hearth-my board hath ample fare, She prized a fond and faithful heart above the worldling's gold. |