Or if perchance a sadden'd heart That once was gay and felt the spring, Cons slowly o'er its alter'd part, In sorrow and remorse to sing, Thy gracious care will send that way And nurse it with all pitying thought; Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild These are the tones to brace and cheer How timely then a comrade's song Comes floating on the mountain air, And bids thee yet be bold and strongFancy may die, but Faith is there. ALL SAINTS' DAY. Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads. Revelations vii. 3. WHY blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind, Now every leaf is brown and sere, And idly droops, to thee resign'd, The fading chaplet of the year? Her summer veil, half drawn on high, How quiet shews the woodland scene! Each flower and tree, its duty done, is won, Like weary men when age Sure if our eyes were purg'd to trace God's unseen armies hovering round, We should behold by angels' grace The four strong winds of Heaven fast bound, Their downward sweep a moment staid On ocean cove and forest glade, Till the last flower of autumn shed Her funeral odours on her dying bed. So in thine awful armoury, Lord, Till willing hearts wear quite away The Cross by angel hands impress'd, The seal of glory won and pledge of promis'd rest. Little they dream, those haughty souls Together link'd by Heaven's decree ;— So Famine waits, and War with greedy eyes, Till some repenting heart be ready for the skies. Stand by their own unshaken might? No-where th' upholding grace is won, We dare not ask, nor Heaven would tell, From many a rural nook unthought of there, Rises for that proud world the saints' prevailing prayer. On champions blest, in Jesus' name, Short be your strife, your triumph full, No world of passions to destroy, Your prayers and struggles o'er, your task all praise and joy. HOLY COMMUNION. O GOD of Mercy, God of Might, For now thy people are allow'd To scale the mount and pierce the cloud, And Faith may feed her eager view With wonders Sinai never knew. Fresh from th' atoning sacrifice O agony of wavering thought When sinners first so near are brought! "It is my Maker-dare I stay? 66 My Saviour-dare I turn away ?” |