HYMN AND PRAYER. 211 Give such a force of holy thought and feeling, That I may live to glorify thy name; That I may conquer base desire and passion, That I may rise o'er selfish thought and will, O'ercome the world's allurement, threat, and fashion, Walk humbly, softly, leaning on thee still. I am unworthy. Yet for their dear sake I ask, whose roots planted in me are found, For precious vines are propped by rudest stake, And heavenly roses fed in darkest ground. Beneath my leaves, though early fallen and faded, Young plants are warmed, they drink my branches' dew. Let them not, Lord, by me be Upas-shaded; Make me for their sake firm, and pure, and true. For their sake too, the faithful, wise, and bold, Whose generous love has been my pride and stay, Those who have found in me some trace of gold, For their sake purify my lead and clay. And let not all the pains and toil be wasted, Spent on my youth by saints now gone to rest, Nor that deep sorrow my Redeemer tasted When on his soul the guilt of man was pressed. Tender and sensitive, he braved the storm, That we might fly a well-deserved fate, Poured out his soul in supplication warm, Looked with his eyes of love on eyes of hate. Let all this goodness by my mind be seen, A MEDITATION. CHARLES J. FOX.* “O FOR Some special Providence! Thus cry our ingrate hearts, nor feel, Thou giv'st the seasons in their course, And air, and food, and light, and life, * Of Nashua, N. H. These verses were written a few days before his death. A MEDITATION. When health is bounding in each vein, But when come sickness and distress, At once we light the incense-cup, When all the friends we love the most Return our hearts' caress, And life is full of joy and hope, — Then we forget to bless: But if some loved one pines, and Death O, how we wrestle for his life, When fortune wears a smiling face, When all around we see no cloud, But if misfortune's storm beats fierce On our devoted breasts, We strive until by penitence God's rainbow on us rests. "T is ever thus;- God's daily gifts Wake but a feeble lay; 213 We feel not, know not, how to prize, Then, then, too late, we see Heaven's glow Upon their upward track, And find that angels have been here, And try to hold them back. Lord! if thou wert not perfect love, HYMN IN SICKNESS. H. WARE, JR. FATHER, thy gentle chastisement To warn me back to thy control; THE PILGRIM AT HEAVEN'S GATE. 215 The errors of my heart I know; I feel my deep infirmities; But, like the morning clouds, decay, Forgive the weakness I deplore ; THE PILGRIM AT HEAVEN'S GATE. C. G. FENNER. Casta placent Superis Pura cum veste venite. England's Helicon. 1600. My Robe of Life is travel-worn, |