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Hymns of Faith and Hope Volume II

Be True.

THOU must be true thyself,
If thou the truth wouldst teach.
Thy soul must overflow, if thou
Another's soul wouldst reach:
It needs the overflow of heart
To give the lips full speech.

Think truly, and thy thoughts
Shall the world's.famine feed;

Speak truly, and each word of thine
Shall be a fruitful seed;

Live truly, and thy life shall be
A great and noble creed.

TOlbo are Cbese, an& Mbence came

'Et de Hierosolymis et de Britannia aequaliter patet anla coelestis.'—Jerome. Ep. ad Paulinum.

NOT from Jerusalem alone,
To heaven the path ascends;
As near, as sure, as straight the way
That leads to the celestial day,
From farthest realms extends;
Frigid or torrid zone.

What matters how or whence we start?
One is the crown to all;

One is the hard but glorious race,
Whatever be our starting-place;—
Rings round the earth the call
That says, Arise, Depart!

From the balm-breathing, sun-loved isles
Of the bright Southern Sea,

From the dead North's cloud-shadow'd pole,
We gather to one gladsome goal,
One common home in thee,
City of sun and smiles!

The cold rough billow hinders none;
Nor helps the calm, fair main;

The brown rock of Norwegian gloom,
The verdure of Tahitian bloom,
The sands of Mizraim's plain,
Or peaks of Lebanon.

As from the green lands of the vine,
So from the snow-wastes pale,
We find the ever open road
To the dear city of our God;
From Russian steppe, or Burman vale,
Or terraced Palestine.

Not from swift Jordan's sacred stream
Alone we mount above;

Indus or Danube, Thames or Rhone,
Rivers unsainted and unknown;—
From each, the home of love
Beckons with heavenly gleam.

Not from grey Olivet alone
We see the gates of light;

From Morven's heath or Jungfrau's snow
We welcome the descending glow
Of pearl and chrysolite,
And the unsetting sun.

Not from Jerusalem alone
The Church ascends to God;

Strangers of every tongue and clime,
Pilgrims of every land and time,
Throng the well-trodden road
That leads up to the throne.

CTbe ffiew Jerusalem.

BATHED in unfallen sunlight,
Itself a sun-born gem,
Fair gleams the glorious city,
The new Jerusalem!
City fairest,
Splendour rarest,

Let me gaze on thee!

Calm in her queenly glory,

She sits, all joy and light;
Pure in her bridal beauty,
Her raiment festal-white!
Home of gladness,
Free from sadness,
Let me dwell in thee!

Shading her golden pavement

The tree of life is seen,
Its fruit-rich branches waving,
Celestial evergreen.
Tree of wonder,
Let me under
Thee for ever rest!

Fresh from the throne of Godhead,

Bright in its crystal gleam,
Bursts out the living fountain,
Swells on the living stream.
Blessed river,
Let me ever

Feast my eye on thee!

Stream of true life and gladness,

Spring of all health and peace;
No harps by thee hang silent,
Nor happy voices cease.
Tranquil river,
Let me ever

Sit and sing by thee!

River of God, I greet thee,
Not now afar, but near;
My soul to thy still waters
Hastes in its thirstings here.
Holy river,
Let me ever

Drink of only thee! 1859.

*

Cbe love of 6oD.

OLOVE of God, how strong and true!
Eternal and yet ever new,
Uncomprehended and unbought,
Beyond all knowledge and all thought.

O love of God, how deep and great!
Far deeper than man's deepest hate;
Self-fed, self-kindled like the light,
Changeless, eternal, infinite.

O heavenly love, how precious still,
In days of weariness and ill!
In nights of pain and helplessness,
To heal, to comfort, and to bless.

O wide-embracing, wondrous love!

We read thee in the sky above,

We read thee in the earth below,

In seas that swell and streams that flow.

We read thee in the flowers, the trees,
The freshness of the fragrant breeze,
The songs of birds upon the wing,
The joy of summer and of spring.

We read thee best in Him who came,
To bear for us the cross of shame;
Sent by the Father from on high,
Our life to live, our death to die.

We read thee in the manger-bed
On which His infancy was laid;
And Nazareth that love reveals,
Nestling amid its lonely hills.

We read thee in the tears once shed
Over doomed Salem's guilty head,
In the cold tomb of Bethany,
And blood-drops of Gethsemane.

We read thy power to bless and save,
Even in the darkness of the grave;
Still more in resurrection-light,
We read the fulness of thy might .

O love of God, our shield and stay
Through all the perils of our way;
Eternal love, in thee we rest,
For ever safe, for ever blest!

Che Xove tbat ipassctb

NOT what I am, O Lord, but what Thou art! That, that alone can be my soul's true rest; Thy love, not mine, bids fear and doubt depart, And stills the tempest of my tossing breast.

It is Thy perfect love that casts out fear;

I know the voice that speaks the 'It is I;' And in these well-known words of heavenly cheer

I hear the joy that bids each sorrow fly.

Thy name is Love! I hear it from yon cross;

Thy name is Love! I read it in yon tomb; All meaner love is perishable dross,

But this shall light me through time's thickest gloom.

It blesses now, and shall for ever bless;

It saves me now, and shall for ever save; It holds me up in days of helplessness;

It bears me safely o'er each swelling wave.

More of Thyself, Oh, shew me hour by hour, More of Thy glory, O my God and Lord;

More of Thyself in all Thy grace and power, More of Thy love and truth, Incarnate Word!

jEATH worketh,

Let me work too;
Death undoeth,

Let me do.

Busy as death my work I ply,
Till I rest in the rest of eternity.

Time worketh,

Let me work too;
Time undoeth,
Let me do.

Busy as time my work I ply,
Till I rest in the rest of eternity.

Sin worketh,

Let me work too;
Sin undoeth,
Let me do.

Busy as sin my work I ply,
Till I rest in the rest of eternity.

Cbe Good

I CAME and saw, and hoped to conquer,
As the great Roman once had done:
His was the one hour's torrent shock of battle;
My field was harder to be won.

I came and saw, but did not conquer,

The foes were fierce, their weapons strong;

I came, I saw, but yet I did not conquer,
For me the fight was sore and long.

They said the war was brief and easy,
A word, a look, would crush the throng;

To some it may have been a moment's conflict,
To me it has been sore and long.

They said the threats were coward bluster, To brave men they could work no wrong;

So some may boast of swift and easy battle, To me it has been sore and long.

And yet I know that I shall conquer, Though sore and hard the fight may be:

I know, I know I shall be more than victor, Through Him who won the fight for me.

I fight, not fearful of the issue,

My victory is sure and near; Yet, not the less with hand and eye all watchful

Grasp I my buckler and my spear.

For I must fight, if I would conquer,
'T is not by flight that fields are won;

And I must conquer, if I would inherit
The victor's joy, and crown, and throne.

Sunset bg tbe Sea.

MY watch upon this sea-swept cliff is done! I've marked for hours yon slow-descending

sun,

And seen him plunge into the golden swell
Of yon bright ocean that he loves so well.

I linger, watching how yon wavelets seem
To miss the glory of the vanished gleam;
And marking how yon summer-blushing blue
Takes on the sadness of the twilight hue.

How can I go? That shadowy, solemn wave
Seems like a loved one's newly covered grave,
And all around, above me, seems to move
The joy and grief of unforgotten love.

I linger o'er the long wave's darkening flow,
But the cold sea-moan bids me rise and go;
And yon faint sun-glow on the quivering main
Says, Go, to-morrow we shall meet again.

It may be we shall meet as we have done,
And that I greet once more yon matchless sun;
It may be that I come to gaze again
On the pale splendour of yon purple plain.

But though no dawn should light these faded skies,
Though that expected sun should never rise,
I have a Sun, whose everlasting gold
Lights up a day that never shall grow old.
G

I have a Sun within, a Sun above,
A heaven whose radiance is the joy of love:
Earth's suns may sink, and rise again no more;
I need them not on that unchanging shore.

I go where night and darkness never come,
To the dear day-spring of a sinless home;
No pensive musings such as sunset brings!
No bitter heartaches over dried-up springs!

This shore I quit, these rocks, this wondrous sea,
Of all things great the greatest still to me;
These golden gleams of sunset's lingering bliss;
Yon far-off dimple from the dying kiss

Of wave and sky; this gentle, gentle song
Of the lone sea-breeze as it sighs along;
The sweet low ripple-note that comes and goes
From this grey sand-slope where the tide still flows.

These, these I leave; yet, leaving, turn again
To love and muse, yet feel no parting pain:
These are but withered leaves, the goodly tree
Which bears them all remaineth yet for me.

I need not miss the star-beam, if the star
Abideth still to shine in love afar;
The gift may fade, the Giver still is mine,
With all His love and light and grace divine.

Hie is Coming.

HE is coming; and the tidings
Are rolling wide and far;
As light flows out in gladness,
From yon fair morning-star.

He is coming; and the tidings
Sweep through the willing air,

With hope that ends for ever
Time's ages of despair.

Old earth from dreams and slumber
Wakes up and says, Amen;

Land and ocean bid Him welcome,
Flood and forest join the strain.

He is coming; and the mountains

Of Judea ring again;
Jerusalem awakens,

And shouts her glad Amen.

Deaven at Xast.

'Denique coelum.'—Old Motto.

ANGEL-VOICES sweetly singing, **. Echoes through the blue dome ringing, News of wondrous gladness bringing: Ah, 't is heaven at last!

Sin for ever left behind us;
Earthly visions cease to blind us,
Fleshly fetters cease to bind us:

Ah, 't is heaven at last!

On the jasper threshold standing,
Like a pilgrim safely landing,
See, the strange bright scene expanding!
Ah, 't is heaven at last!

What a city! what a glory!
Far beyond the brightest story
Of the ages old and hoary:

Ah, 'tis heaven at last!

Not a tear-drop ever falleth,
Not a pleasure ever palleth;
Song to song for ever calleth:

Ah, 't is heaven at last!

Christ Himself the living splendour,
Christ the sunlight mild and tender;
Praises to the Lamb we render:

Ah, 't is heaven at last I

Broken death's dread bands that bound us,
Life and victory around us;
Christ the King Himself hath crowned us:
Ah, 't is heaven at last!

Graved of ©cean.

'The sea gave up the dead which were in it.' — Rev. xx. 13.

DEEP down beneath the unresting surge
There is a peaceful tomb:
Storm raves above, calm reigns below;
Safe, safe from ocean's wreck and woe,
Safe from its tide's unceasing flow,
The weary find a home.

Calm shelter from time's vexing winds,

Sure anchorage at last!
The blinding sea-drift blinds not here,
No breaker's boom the sleepers fear,
No angry typhoon hovers near;

Their latest storm is past.

Who dies in Christ the Lord dies well,

Though on the lonely main;
As soft the pillow of the deep,
As tranquil the uncurtained sleep,
As on the couch where fond ones weep;
And they shall rise again!

Not safer on the sea of glass,

Before the throne of God:
As sacred is that ocean-cave,
Where weeds instead of myrtles wave;
As near to God that unknown grave,

As the dear churchyard's sod.

O'er the loved clay God sets His watch:

The angels guard it well,
Till summoned by the trumpet loud,
Like star emerging from the cloud,
Or blossom from its sheltering shroud,

It leaves its ocean-cell.

The sea shall give them back, though death The well-known form destroy;

Nor rock, nor sand, nor foam can chain,

Nor mortal prison-house retain:

Each atom shall awake again,
And rise with song and joy.

O Morning-star! O risen Lord!

Destroyer of the tomb!
Star of the living and the dead,
Lift up at length Thy long-veiled head,
O'er land and sea Thy glories shed:

Light of the morning, come!

Into each tomb Thy radiance pour;

Let life, not death, prevail. Make haste, great Conqueror, make haste! Call up the dead of ages past, Gather Thy precious gems at last,

From ocean's deepest vale.

Speak, mighty Life, and wake the dead!

Like statue from the stone,
Like music from long-broken strings,
Like gushings from deserted springs,
Like dew upon the dawn's soft wings,

Rouse each beloved one!

IDos Matutina.

EARTH'S lamps are growing dim:
The Church's early hymn
Comes up in slow, soft sound,
Like music from the ground;
Her old prophetic psalm
Fills the deep twilight calm!

Not yet his blossom-wreath
Of beams from climes beneath,
The happy sun has bound
These mountain-peaks around;
Hardly yon cloudlet high
Has caught the radiancy.

Only the stars look pale,
As if some luminous veil
Were passing o'er their face,
Taking, yet adding grace,
Hiding, yet giving light
To these fair gems of night.

The beacon-lights still gleam
Along the ocean-stream;
Goes up no city smoke,
No city-hum has broke
Earth's sleep, or sounded forth
Another morning's birth.

Shake off from us the night,
O God! as sons of light,
Prepare us for the day,
That, at the first faint ray
Of morn in eastern skies,
We may with joy arise.

What though night's silence still
Broods over plain and hill,
These shades shall soon be past,
The Day-star comes at last,
And we shall welcome Him
With our clear morning hymn!

.fcomewar&s.

"CROPPING down the troubled river,

.L' To the tranquil, tranquil shore;

Dropping down the misty river,

Time's willow-shaded river,

To the spring-embosomed shore;

Where the sweet light shineth ever,
And the sun goes down no more:
O wondrous, wondrous shore!

Dropping down the winding river,
To the wide and welcome sea;

Dropping down the narrow river,

Man's weary, wayward river,
To the blue and ample sea;

Where no tempest wrecketh ever,
Where the sky is fair and free:
O joyous, joyous sea!

Dropping down the noisy river,
To our peaceful, peaceful home;

Dropping down the turbid river,

Earth's bustling, crowded river,
To our gentle, gentle home;

Where the rough roar riseth never,
And the vexings cannot come:
O loved and longed-for home!

Dropping down the rapid river,

To the dear and deathless land;
Dropping down the well-known river,
Life's swollen and rushing river,

To the resurrection land;
Where the living live for ever,

And the dead have joined the band:

O fair and blessed land! 1860.

*

5 (Bo to XKe.

I GO to life, and not to death,
From darkness to life's native sky;
I go from sickness and from pain

To health and immortality.
Let our farewell then be tearless,

Since I bid farewell to tears;

Write this day of my departure

Festive in your coming years.

I go from poverty to wealth,

From rags to raiment angel-fair, From the pale leanness of this flesh

To beauty such as saints shall wear. Let our farewell then be tearless,

Since I bid farewell to tears; Write this day of my departure

Festive in your coming years.

I go from chains to liberty;

These fetters will be broken soon; Forth over Eden's fragrant fields

I walk beneath a glorious noon. Let our farewell then be tearless,

Since I bid farewell to tears; Write this day of my departure

Festive in your coming years.

For toil there comes the crowned rest;

Instead of burdens, eagle's wings; And I, even I, this life-long thirst

Shall quench at everlasting springs. Let our farewell then be tearless,

Since I bid farewell to tears; Write this day of my departure

Festive in your coming years.

God lives! Who says that I must die?

I cannot, while Jehovah liveth! Christ lives! I cannot die, but live;

He life to me for ever giveth.

Let our farewell then be tearless,

Since I bid farewell to tears; Write this day of my departure

Festive in your coming years.

f>e Xivetb 3tong wbo Xlvetb

HE liveth long who liveth well!
All other life is short and vain;
He liveth longest who can tell
Of living most for heavenly gain.

He liveth long who liveth well!

All else is being flung away; He liveth longest who can tell

Of true things truly done each day.

Waste not thy being; back to Him,
Who freely gave it, freely give,

Else is that being but a dream,
'Tis but to be, and not to live.

Be wise, and use thy wisdom well;

Who wisdom speaks must live it too; He is the wisest who can tell

How first he lived, then spoke, the true.

Be what thou seemest; live thy creed;

Hold up to earth the torch divine; Be what thou prayest to be made;

Let the great Master's steps be thine.

Fill up each hour with what will last;

Buy up the moments as they go; The life above, when this is past,

Is the ripe fruit of life below.

Sow truth if thou the true wouldst reap;

Who sows the false shall reap the vain; Erect and sound thy conscience keep;

From hollow words and deeds refrain.

Sow love, and taste its fruitage pure;

Sow peace, and reap its harvest bright; Sow sunbeams on the rock and moor,

And find a harvest-home of light.

Cbe Christ of (Bod.

TO know the Christ of God,
The everlasting Son;
To know what He on earth
For guilty man has done:
This is the first and last

Of all that's true and wise;
The circle that contains all light
Beneath, above, the skies.
Father, unseal my eyes,
Unveil my veiled heart,

Reveal this Christ to me!

The Christ, the incarnate Son,

The Christ, the eternal Word; The Christ, heaven's glorious King, The Christ, earth's coming Lord. The Christ, the sum of all

Jehovah's power and grace, God's treasure-house of truth and love, The brightness of His face. Father, unseal my eyes, Unveil my veiled heart,

Reveal this Christ to me!

The Christ who took man's flesh,

Who lived man's life below; Who died man's death for man,—

The death of shame and woe. The Christ who from the cross

Descended to man's grave, Then rose in victory and joy, Mighty to bless and save! Father, unseal my eyes, Unveil my veiled heart,

Reveal this Christ to me!

3s Cbfs BlU

SOMETIMES I catch sweet glimpses of His face, *•* But that is all.

Sometimes He looks on me and seems to smile,

But that is all.
Sometimes He speaks a passing word of peace,

But that is all.
Sometimes I think I hear His loving voice

Upon me call.

And is this all He meant when thus He spoke,—

'Come unto Me?'
Is there no deeper, more enduring rest

In Him for thee?
Is there no steadier light for thee in Him?

Oh come and see!

Oh come and see! Oh look, and look again;

All shall be right;
Oh taste His love, and see that it is good,

Thou child of night:
Oh trust thou, trust thou in His grace and power,

Then all is bright!

Nay, do not wrong Him by thy heavy thoughts,

But love His love.
Do thou full justice to His tenderness,

His mercy prove;
Take Him for what He is; Oh take Him all,

And look above!

Then shall thy tossing soul find anchorage,

And steadfast peace; Thy love shall rest on His; thy weary doubts

For ever cease. Thy heart shall find in Him, and in His grace,

Its rest and bliss!

Christ and His love shall be thy blessed all

For evermore! Christ and His light shall shine on all thy ways

For evermore! Christ and His peace shall keep thy troubled soul

For evermore!

Cbe Setter Mill.

TO have each day the thing I wish,
Lord, that seems best to me;
But not to have the thing I wish,
Lord, that seems best to Thee.

Tis hard to say without a sigh,
Lord, let Thy will be done;

'Tis hard to say, My will is Thine,
And Thine is mine alone.

Most truly then Thy will is done,
When mine, O Lord, is crossed;

'Tis good to see my plans o'erthrown,
My ways in Thine all lost.

VVhate'er Thy purpose be, O Lord,
In things or great or small,

Let each minutest part be done,
That Thou may'st still be all.

In all the little things of life,
Thyself, Lord, may I see;

In little and in great alike
Reveal Thy love to me.

So shall my undivided life
To Thee, my God, be given;

And all this earthly course below
Be one dear path to heaven.

t>e ®ie& and TLivea.

I HEAR the words of love,
I gaze upon the blood;
I see the mighty sacrifice,
And I have peace with God.

'Tis everlasting peace,

Sure as Jehovah's name;
'Tis stable as His steadfast throne,

For evermore the same.

The clouds may go and come,
And storms may sweep my sky,

This blood-sealed friendship changes not,
The cross is ever nigh.

My love is ofttimes low,

My joy still ebbs and flows; But peace with Him remains the same,

No change Jehovah knows.

That which can shake the cross

May shake the peace it gave, Which tells me Christ has never died,

Or never left the grave.

Till then my peace is sure,

It will not, cannot yield;
Jesus, I know, has died and lives;

On this firm rock I build.

I change, He changes not,

The Christ can never die; His love, not mine, the resting-place,

His truth, not mine, the tie.

The cross still stands unchanged,
Though heaven is now His home;

The mighty stone is rolled away,
But yonder is His tomb!

And yonder is my peace,

The grave of all my woes!
I know the Son of God has come,

I know He died and rose.

I know He liveth now

At God's right hand above;
I know the throne on which He sits,

I know His truth and love!
H

with

BEGIN the day with God!
He is thy sun and day;
He is the radiance of thy dawn,
To Him address thy lay.

Sing a new song at morn!

Join the glad woods and hills; Join the fresh winds and seas and plains,

Join the bright flowers and rills.

Sing thy first song to God!

Not to thy fellow man;
Not to the creatures of His hand,

But to the glorious One.

Look up beyond these clouds!

Thither thy pathway lies; Mount up, away, and linger not,

Thy goal is yonder skies.

Take thy first meal with God!

He is thy heavenly food; Feed with and on Him; He with thee

Will feast in brotherhood.

Take thy first walk with God!

Let Him go forth with thee;
By stream, or sea, or mountain-path,

Seek still His company.

Thy first transaction be

With God Himself above!
So shall thy business prosper well,

And all the day be love.

Xfgbt of tbe

TIGHT of the world! for ever, ever shining,
•»—< There is no change in Thee;
True light of life, all joy and health enshrining,
Thou canst not fade nor flee.

Thou hast arisen, but Thou descendest never;

To-day shines as the past: All that Thou wast, Thou art, and shalt be ever,

Brightness from first to last!

Night visits not Thy sky, nor storm, nor sadness;

bay fills up all its blue; Unfailing beauty, and unfaltering gladness,

And love for ever new!

Why walk in darkness? Our true Light yet shineth;

It is not night, but day! All healing and all peace His light enshrineth;

Why shun His loving ray?

Are night and shadows better, truer, dearer,

Than day and joy and love? Do tremblings and misgivings bring us nearer

To the great God of love? Light of the world! undimming and unsetting,

Oh shine each mist away! Banish the fear, the falsehood, and the fretting;

Be our unchanging day!

Cbe ffiew Song.

BEYOND the hills where suns go down,
And brightly beckon as they go,
I see the land of far renown,
The land which I so soon shall know.

Above the dissonance of time,
And discord of its angry words,

I hear the everlasting chime,
The music of unjarring chords.

I bid it welcome; and my haste
To join it cannot brook delay.

O song of morning, come at last,
And ye who sing it, come away!

O song of light, and dawn, and bliss,
Sound over earth, and fill these skies,

Nor ever, ever, ever cease
Thy soul-entrancing melodies!

Glad song of this disburdened earth,
Which holy voices then shall sing;

Praise for creation's second birth,
And glory to creation's King!

Cot wbat tbese Danes bave Done.

NOT what these hands have done
Can save this guilty soul;
Not what this toiling flesh has borne
Can make my spirit whole.

Not what I feel or do

Can give me peace with God; Not all my prayers, and sighs, and tears,

Can bear my awful load.

Thy work alone, O Christ,
Can ease this weight of sin;

Thy blood alone, O Lamb of God,
Can give me peace within.

Thy love to me, O God,
Not mine, O Lord, to Thee,

Can rid me of this dark unrest,
And set my spirit free.

Thy grace alone, O God,

To me can pardon speak;
Thy power alone, O Son of God,

Can this sore bondage break.

I bless the Christ of God;

I rest on love divine;
And with unfaltering lip and heart

I call this Saviour mine.

Smootb £verg TRUave.

SMOOTH every wave this heart within;
Let no dark tempest gather there;
Calm every ripple, till my sea
Be, like the polished silver, fair.

One word of old stilled raging wind,

And 'Peace, be still!' subdued the wave;

Let that dear word again be heard,
And let the tempest cease to rave.

Jesu! Thy word is mighty still;

Creation knows it; let this heart Know it in all its grace and power,

Till every tumult thence depart.

Come, MigbtB Spirit.

, mighty Spirit, penetrate
v-- This heart and soul of mine;
And my whole being with Thy grace
Pervade, O Life divine!

As this clear air surrounds the earth,
Thy grace around me roll;

As the fresh light pervades the air,
So pierce and fill my soul.

As from these clouds drops down in love

The precious summer rain,
So from Thyself pour down the flood

That freshens all again.

As these fair flowers exhale their scent

In gladness at our feet,
So from Thyself let fragrance breathe,

More heavenly and more sweet.

Thus life within our lifeless hearts

Shall make its glad abode,
And we shall shine in beauteous light,

Filled with the light of God.

Cbe Xove of 600.

OLOVE that casts out fear,
O love that casts out sin,
Tarry no more without,

But come and dwell within.

True sunlight of the soul,
Surround me as I go;

So shall my way be safe,
My feet no straying know.

Great love of God, come in,
Well-spring of heavenly peace,

Thou Living Water, come,
Spring up, and never cease.

Love of the living God,
Of Father and of Son,

Love of the Holy Ghost,
Fill thou each needy one.

Praise to the Father give,
The Spirit and the Son;

Praise for the mighty love
Of the great Three-in-One.

CreOo, iRon ©pinor.

I ASK a perfect creed!
Oh that to me were given
The teaching that leads none astray,
The scholarship of heaven;

Sure wisdom and pure light,

With lowly, loving fear;
The steadfast, ever-looking eye,

The ever-listening ear;

Calm faith that grasps the word

Of Him who cannot lie;
That hears alone the voice divine,

Though crowds are standing by.

The one whole truth I seek,

In this sad age of strife; The truth of Him who is the Truth,

And in whose truth is life.

Truth which contains true rest,

Which is the grave of doubt, Which ends uncertainty and gloom,

And casts the falsehood out.

O true One, give me truth,

And let it quench in me The thirst of this long-craving heart,

And set my spirit free.

O Truth of God, destroy

The cloud, the chain, the war;

Dawn to this stormy midnight be,
My bright and morning-star!

Soul, 'tie

UP now, my soul, 't is day!
Lone night has fled away;
How soft yon eastern blue!
How fresh this morning dew!

Peace rests on yon green hill,

Joy sparkles in yon rill;

Join thou earth's song of love,
That pours from every grove.

Be happy in thy God;

On Him cast every load,
To Him bring every care,
To Him pour out thy prayer.

To Him thy morning praise
With joyful spirit raise,
The God of morn and even,
The light of earth and heaven.

Be thou His happy child,
Loved, blest, and reconciled;
Walk calmly on, each hour
Safe in His love and power.

Work for Him gladly here,
Without a grudge or fear;
Thy labour shall be light,
And all thy days be bright!

XUCB.

ALL night we watched the ebbing life,
As if its flight to stay;
Till, as the dawn was coming up,
Our last hope passed away.

She was the music of our home,

A day that knew no night,
The fragrance of our garden-bower,

A thing all smiles and light.

Above the couch we bent and prayed,

In the half-lighted room;
As the bright hues of infant-life

Sank slowly into gloom.

Each flutter of the pulse we marked,

Each quiver of the eye;
To the dear lips our ear we laid,

To catch the last low sigh.

We stroked the little sinking cheeks,

The forehead pale and fair; We kissed the small, round, ruby mouth,

For Lucy still was there.

We fondly smoothed the scattered curls

Of her rich golden hair;
We held the gentle palm in ours,

For Lucy still was there.

At last the fluttering pulse stood still.

The death-frost through her clay Stole slowly; and, as morn came up,

Our sweet flower passed away.

The form remained; but there was now

No soul our love to share;
No warm responding lip to kiss;

For Lucy was not there.

Farewell, with weeping hearts we said,

Child of our love and care! And then we ceased to kiss those lips,

For Lucy was not there.

But years are moving quickly past,

And time will soon be o'er; Death shall be swallowed up of life

On the immortal shore.

Then shall we clasp that hand once more,

And smooth that golden hair; Then shall we kiss those lips again,

When Lucy shall be there. August to, 1858.

Sunset ano Sunrise.

To H. N. B.

THIS day of war and weariness
Will soon with me be done;
But thine, my child of love and joy,
Is only now begun.

Time's years of fever and unrest

Are nearly run for me;
But life, with all its ill and good,

Is still in store for thee.

My flowers have faded, and my fruit
Is drooping from the tree;

The blossoms of the golden year
Are opening all on thee.

My harvest, with its gathered sheaves,

Is almost over now;
But thine is coming up, my child,

When I am lying low.

'Tis May, all May upon thy cheek,

'Tis autumn now on mine; The chill of eve is on my brow,

The dew of morn on thine.

I've seen what thou art yet to see,

And felt what thou must feel; I know each winding of the way,

Each rock, and stream, and hill.

My eyes ere long shall weep their last,
Their springs will soon run dry;

But all thy tears are yet to flow,
Ere thou shalt rest on high.

The farewells dying on my lips

Are living still on thine;
'Tis sunrise on thy glowing peaks,

'Tis sunset upon mine.

I leave the banquet-hall of time

As thou art coming in; Take thou my place, and be thy feast

Sweeter than mine has been.

I quit the battlefield of life,

I give my sword to thee;
It is thy father's father's sword,

It leads to victory.

I leave the warfare and the work,

The watching and the way,
For thee to finish, when this head

Rests on its couch of clay.

Go, then, fill up with useful deeds
Thy threescore years and ten,

Till He, who bade thee rise and work,
Bids thee lie down again.

Then lay thee down and rest, as all
Thy fathers have lain down;

Waiting the resurrection-joy,
The glory and the crown!

Cbe /toaster's Houcb.

IN the still air the music lies unheard;
In the rough marble beauty hides unseen;
To wake the music and the beauty, needs
The master's touch, the sculptor's chisel keen.

Great Master, touch us with Thy skilful hand,
Let not the music that is in us die;

Great Sculptor, hew and polish us; nor let,
Hidden and lost, Thy form within us lie.

Spare not the stroke; do with us as Thou wilt;

Let there be nought unfinished, broken, marred; Complete Thy purpose, that we may become

Thy perfect image, O our God and Lord.

Summer of tbe Silent f>eatt.

""PWAS summer, and its youngest kiss

-1- Fell on the rose-red lip of June; Veiled in delicious haze, the sun

Made, for our vale, its tenderest noon.

The gentlest of all gentle winds
Stole o'er the silver of the stream

' T was summer lapt in autumn's sleep,
The stillness of spring's stillest dream.

Away, away, among the woods,
Where winds are rambling, let me too

Rove, feeding on the summer air,
Tasting the freshness of its dew.

O summer of the silent heart,

How rich the song your sunshine sings! O luxury of tranquil thought,

This dreamy hour of sunshine brings!

O sunshine of the laughing lip,
Soften your colours for a day;

Take on this mild and mellow light,
Mingle the quiet with the gay.

O shadows of the pensive heart,
Glow into sunlight, as the love

Comes down, in ever-gushing streams,
From the great heart of God above.

The shadow and the sunlight thus God tempers for us here below,

Mixing for us the joy and fear, The safest cup for man below.

•dse

MAKE use of me, my God!
Let me not be forgot;
A broken vessel cast aside,
One whom Thou needest not.

I am Thy creature, Lord,
And made by hands divine;

And I am part, however mean,
Of this great world of Thine.

Thou usest all Thy works,
The weakest things that be;

Each has a service of its own,
For all things wait on Thee.

Thou usest the high stars,
The tiny drops of dew,

The giant peak and little hill:
My God, oh use me too!

Thou usest tree and flower,
The rivers vast and small,

The eagle great, the little bird
That sings upon the wall.

Thou usest the wide sea,

The little hidden lake,
The pine upon the Alpine cliff,

The lily in the brake.

The huge rock in the vale,

The sand-grain by the sea,
The thunder of the rolling cloud,

The murmur of the bee.

All things do serve Thee here,
All creatures great and small;

Make use of me, of me, my God,
The meanest of them all!

Aount f>or.
Numbers xx. 13-29.

THEY have left the camp, with its tents outspreading,

Like a garden of lilies on Edom's plain; They are climbing the mountain, in silence treading

A path which one shall not tread again. Two aged brothers the way are leading, There follows a youth in the solemn train.

O'er a sister's bier they have just been bending;

The desert prophetess sleeps hard by. With her toilsome sojourn nearly ending,

With Judah's mountains before her eye, The echoes of Kadesh and Canaan blending,

She has calmly turned her aside to die!

They come not to gaze on the matchless glory,
On grandeur the like of which earth has not,—

A billowy ocean of mountains hoary,
A chaos of cliffs round this awful spot;

A vision like that in some old-world story,
Too terrible ever to be forgot .

The desert rainbow that gleams before ye,
But leaves your solitude doubly bleak;

The shadows of sunset fall ghastly o'er ye;
Cliff frowns upon cliff, and peak on peak:

O rocks of the desolate, lean and hoary,
What lip of man can your grandeur speak!

Splintered, and blasted, and thunder-smitten,
Not a smile above, nor a hope below;

Shivered, and scorched, and hunger-bitten,
No earthly lightning has seamed your brow:

On each stone the Avenger's pen has written
Horror and ruin, and death and woe.

The king and the priest move on unspeaking,
The desert-priest and the desert-king;

'Tis a grave, a mountain-grave they are seeking,
Fit end of a great life-wandering!

And here, till the day of the glory-streaking,
This desert-eagle must fold his wing.

The fetters of age have but lightly bound him,
This bold sharp steep he can bravely breast;

With his six-score wondrous years around him, He climbs like youth to the mountain's crest.

The mortal moment at last has found him,
Willing to tarry, yet glad to rest.

Is that a tear-drop his dim eye leaving,
As he looks his last on yon desert sun?

Is that a sigh his faint bosom heaving,
As he lays his ephod in silence down?

'Twas a passing mist, to his sky still cleaving;
But the sky has brightened,—the cloud is gone!

In his shroud of rock they have gently wound him,
'T is a Bethel-pillow that love has given;

I see no gloom of the grave around him,
The deathbed fetters have all been riven:

'T is the angel of life, not of death, that has found

him, And this is to him the gate of heaven.

He has seen the tombs of old Mizraim's wonder, Where the haughty Pharaohs embalmed recline;

But no pyramid tomb, with its costly grandeur, Can once be compared with this mountain-shrine;

No monarch of Memphis is swathed in splendour,
High priest of the desert, like this of thine.

Not with thy nation thy bones are lying,
Nor Israel's hills shall thy burial see;

Yet with Edom's vultures around thee flying,
Safe and unrifled thy dust shall be:

Oh who would not covet so calm a dying,
And who would not rest by the side of thee?

Not with thy fathers thy slumber tasting;

From sister and brother thou seem'st to flee; Not in Shechem's plain are thy ashes wasting,

Not in Machpelah thy grave shall be. In the land of the stranger thy dust is resting;

Yet who would not sleep by the side of thee?

Alone and safe, in the happy keeping

Of rocks and sands, till the glorious morn,

They have laid thee down for thy lonely sleeping, Waysore and weary and labour-worn;

While faintly the sound of a nation's weeping From the vale beneath thee is upward borne.

As one familiar with gentle sorrow,

With a dirge-like wailing the wind goes by,

And echo lovingly seems to borrow

The plaintive note of the mourner's cry,

Which comes to-day and is gone to-morrow,
Leaving nought for thee but the stranger's sigh.

Alone and safe, in the holy keeping
Of Him who holdeth the grave's cold key,

They have laid thee down for the blessed sleeping,
The quiet rest which His dear ones see.

And why o'er thee should we weep the weeping; For who would not rest by the side of thee?

Three Hebrew cradles, the Nile palms under, Rocked three sweet babes upon Egypt's plain;

Three desert-graves must these dear ones sunder, Three sorrowful links of a broken chain,

Kadesh and Hor, and Nebo yonder,—
Three way marks now, for the pilgrim-train.

Are these my waymarks, these tombs of ages?

Are these my guides to the land of rest? Are these grim rock-tombs the stony pages,

Which show how to follow the holy blest, And bid me rise 'bove each storm that rages,

Like a weary dove to its olive nest?

Is death my way to the home undying?

Is the desert my path to the Eden plain? Are these lone links that are round me lying,

To be gathered, and all re-knit again? And is there, beyond this land of sighing,

A refuge for ever from death and pain?

On this rugged cliff, while the sun is dying
Behind yon majestic mountain wall,

I stand,—not a cloudlet above me flying,
Not a foot is stirring, no voices call,—

A traveller lonely, a stranger, trying
To muse o'er this wondrous funeral.

In silence we stand till the faint stars cover
This grave of ages. Yes, thus would we

Still look and linger, and gaze and hover
About this cave where thy dust may be.

Great priest of the desert, thy toil is over,
And who would not rest by the side of thee?

And night, the wan night is bending over
The twilight couch of the dying day,

With dewy eyes, like a weeping lover,

That doats on the beauty that will not stay,

And sighs that the mould so soon must cover
Each golden smile of the well-loved clay.

The night of ages bends softly o'er us,—
Four thousand autumns have well-nigh fled;

Love watches still the old tomb before us
Of sainted dust in its mountain-bed,

Till the longed-for trump shall awake the chorus,
From desert and field, of the blessed dead.

Cbe Dcsert Journey.

SAFE across the waters,
Here in peace we stand,
See the wrecks of Egypt
Strewed along the sand.

Safe across the waters,

Foes for ever gone,
Now we march in safety,

God our guide alone.

'Tis the silent desert,

Sand and rock and waste;
But the chain is broken,

And the peril past.

Onward, then, right onward!

This our watchword still, Till we reach the glory

Of the wondrous hill.

For the journey girded,

Haste we on our way, The pillar-cloud above us,

Guide by night and day.

Burning skies bend o'er us,

Beneath, the burning soil; Jehovah ever near us

In our thirst and toil.

On through waste and blackness,

O'er our desert road, On till Sinai greets us,

Mountain of our God.

On past Edom's valley,

Moab's mountain-wall, Jordan's sea-broad rushings,

The pillar-cloud o'er all.

Past the palm-shaded city,

Rock and hill our'road, On till Salem greets us,

City of our God!

SorOan be Aoonligbt.

MOONLIGHT upon this sacred stream!
How softly glad its waters gleam,
Like infant's smile or childhood's dream,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight upon the shaggy wood,
That, age on age, has calmly stood,
Fringing this river's holy flood,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight upon these hills of gloom,
Old Moab's watch-tower and his tomb,
Each peak a monumental dome,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight upon the lone unrest

Of yon dark sea's slow-heaving breast,

Unloved, untenanted, unblest,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight upon these yellow sands,
Where yon wan ruin crumbling stands,
The savage home of Arab bands,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight on yon far western height,
At whose green base, a gem of light,
Jerusalem sits fair and bright,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight upon yon nearer hill,
Whence springs the prophet-healed rill,
Fruitful and sweet, and pleasant still,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight in yonder matchless sky,

In which, bright bending from on high,

Star seems with star in light to vie,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight on Pisgah's watch-tower grand, Whence the loved prophet saw the land Stretching afar from strand to strand,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight on Nebo's peak and cave,
Where, looking down on Jordan's wave,
God for His prophet dug the grave,—

Beautiful!

Moonlight upon my lonely tent,
Which, like some marble monument,
Gleams to a spotless firmament,—

Beautiful!

JBetblebem.

'"THEY speak to me of princeJy Tyre,
-*" That old Phoenician gem,
Great Sidon's daughter of the north;
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

They speak of Rome and Babylon,—
What can compare with them?

So let them praise their pride and pomp;
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

They praise the hundred-gated Thebes,

Old Mizraim's diadem,
The city of the sand-girt Nile;

But I will speak of Bethlehem.

They speak of Athens, star of Greece,
Her hill of Mars, her Academe,

Haunts of old wisdom and fair art;
But I will speak of Bethlehem.

Dear city, where heaven met with earth,
Whence sprang the rod from Jesse's stem,

Where Jacob's star first shone,—of thee
I'll speak, O happy Bethlehem!

Seefc tbe Cbings above.

SIGH not for palm and vine,
Nor for the sun-loved land which palm

and vine are shading;
Call not its verdure glorious and unfading,
Nor its bright air delicious and divine!
That chiller land of thine,
Where spring the oak and pine,
Without or palm or vine,
Or glossy olive-grove,
Is worthier of thy love.

Sigh not for cloudless skies, Nor for the magic vales o'er which these skies

are bending; Praise not the glowing orb which every hour is

sending Its light-flood, never ebbing, never ending,

On the fair paradise

That underneath it lies;

Pouring o'er earth and sea

Its breathless brilliancy;

Filling the summer air

With its untempered glare.

The greenest land which earth's clear streams are

washing,

The freshest shore on which earth's sea is dashing.
Covet no sunnier strand,
Gleaming with golden sand.
If thou wilt still be sighing f
For fairer climes than this,
For realms of richer bliss,
Sigh for the land of the undying,
On which no blight nor curse is lying,
Where all is holiness
And everlasting peace;

Where God, upon His throne,

Gives joy for aye;
The Lamb, the Light and Sun,

Sheds glorious day. 1858.

Cbe Gain of Xoss.

NAY, give me back my blossoms,
Said the palm-tree to the Nile;
But the stream passed on unheeding,
With its old familiar smile.

Give back my golden ringlets,
Said the palm-tree to the Nile;

But the stream swept by in silence,
With its dimple and its smile.

With its dimple and its smile it passed,
With its dimple and its smile,

All heedless of the palm's low wail,
That sunny, sunny Nile!

By Rodah's island-garden,

With its ripple and its smile;

By Shubra's myrtle hedgerows,
It swept, that glorious Nile!

By Gizeh's great palm-forest

It flashed its stately smile; By Bulak's river-harbour,

That old majestic Nile!

By pyramid and palace,

With its never-ending smile;

By tomb, and mosque, and mazar,
It flowed, that mighty Nile!

Come, give me back my blossoms,
Sighed the palm-tree to the Nile;

But the river flowed unheeding,
With its soft and silver smile.

With its soft and silver smile it flowed,

With its soft and silver smile,
All heedless of the palm-tree's sigh,

That strange, long-wandering Nile!

It seemed to say, 'Tis better far

To leave your flowers to me;
I will bear their yellow beauty on

To the wondering, wondering sea.

'Tis better they should float away

Upon my dusky wave,
Than find upon their native stem

A useless home and grave.

If your sweet flowers remain with you,
Fruitless your boughs must be;

'T is their departure brings the fruit:
Give your bright flowers to me.

Nay, ask not back your blossoms,
To the palm-tree said the Nile;

Let me keep them, said the river,
With its sweet and sunny smile.

And the palm gave up its blossoms
To its friend so wise and old,

And saw them all, unsighing,
Float down the river's gold.

The amber tresses vanished,

And the dear spring-fragrance fled,

But the welcome fruit in clusters
Came richly up instead.

'Tis thus we gain by losing,
And win by failure here;

We doff the gleaming tinsel,
The golden crown to wear.

Our sickness is our healing,
Our weakness is our might;

Life is but death's fair offspring,
And day the child of night.

'Tis thus we rise by setting,

Through darkness reach our day,

Our own ways hourly losing,
To find the eternal way.

'Tis by defeat we conquer,
Grow rich by growing poor;

And from our largest givings
We draw our fullest store.

Then let the blossoms perish,
And let the fragrance go;

All the surer and the larger
Is the harvest we shall know.

All the sweeter and the louder
Our song of harvest-home,

When earth's ripe autumn smileth,
And the reaping-day has come.