In darkness from excessive splendour borne, As that to central horrors; he looks down EDWARD YOUNG. Wait in Hope: the Morning Dawneth. EVERY day hath toil and trouble, Every heart hath care: Meekly bear thine own full measure, Fear not, shrink not, though the burden Heavy to thee prove; God shall fill thy mouth with gladness, And thy heart with love. Patiently enduring, ever Bound by links, that can not sever, To humanity. Labor-wait! thy Master perished Ere his task was done; Count not lost thy fleeting moments, Labor and the seed thou sowest Water with thy tears; God is faithful-he will give thee Answer to thy prayers. Wait in hope! though yet no verdure Glad thy longing eyes, Thou shalt see the ripened harvest Garnered in the skies. Labor-wait! though midnight shadows Wait in hope: the morning dawneth And a peaceful rest awaits thee When thy work is done. MARGARET L. BAILEY. Wisdom, Power, and Love of God. WISDOM took up her harp, and stood in place Of frequent concourse, stood in every gate, By every way, and walked in every street; And lifting up her voice, proclaimed: "Be wise, Ye fools! be of an understanding heart; Forsake the wicked, come not near his house, Pass by, make haste, depart and turn away. Me follow-me, whose ways are pleasantness, Whose paths are peace, whose end is perfect joy." The seasons came and went, and went and came, To teach men gratitude; and as they passed, Gave warning of the lapse of time, that else Had stolen unheeded by. The gentle flowers Retired, and stooping o'er the wilderness, With arm in arm the forest rose on high, The flocks, the herds, the birds, the streams, the breeze, Attuned the heart to melody and love. Mercy stood in the cloud, with eye that wept In dreams and visions, sleep instructed much. The darkness, and the lonely waste, had each A tongue that ever said, Man! think of God! Think of thyself! think of eternity! Fear God, the thunder said-Fear God, the waves; Fear God, the lightning of the storm replied; Fear God, deep loudly answered back to deep. And in the temples of the Holy One, Messiah's messengers, the faithful few, Faithful 'mong many false, the Bible opened, And cried, Repent! repent, ye sons of men! ROBERT POLLOK. Without thy Presence Heaven's no Heaven for me. I LOVE (and have some cause to love,) the earth, She is my Maker's creature, therefore good: She is my mother, for she gave me birth; She is my tender nurse, she gives me food: But what's a creature, Lord, compared with Thee? Or what's my mother or my nurse to me? I love the air; her dainty fruits refresh vite me; Her shrill-mouthed choirs sustain me with their flesh, And with their polyphonian notes delight me; But what's the air, or all the sweets that she My careful purveyor, she provides me store; She walls me round; she makes my diet greater; She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore; But, Lord of oceans, when compared with Thee, What is the ocean or her wealth to me? To heaven's high city I direct my journey, Whose spangled suburbs entertain mine eye; Mine eye, by contemplation's great attorney, Transcends the crystal pavement of the sky; But what is heaven, great God, compared with Thee? Without thy presence, heaven's no heaven to me. Without thy presence, earth gives no refection; Without thy presence, sea affords no treasure; Without thy presence, air's a rank infection; Without thy presence, heaven itself no pleasure; If not possessed, if not enjoyed in Thee, The highest honour that the world can boast, But dying sparkles of thy living fire; |