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SUBMISSION.

[WRITTEN WHEN THE AUTHOR, AFTER A LONG CONFINEMENT BY SICKNESS, WAS DISAPPOINTED OF ATTENDING PUBLIC WORSHIP.}

THOU, who hear'st the secret sigh,
The humble mourner's silent prayer;
Thou who art providently nigh

To all who trust thy guardian care;
Tho' outward providences frown,
Say to my doubting heart "be still;"
The bright reward, the starry crown,
Awaits the souls that do thy will.

If I no more on earth must meet

With those who bow before thy throne; Still in my silent, still retreat,

I'll worship thee, and thee alone: Thou lov'st th' assemblies of thy saints, And thither too my feet would move; And oft my thirsty spirit faints

To tread thy courts, and feel thy love.

Yet to thy wise and gracious will
My soul submits, and owns thee just,
And waits for thy deliverance still,

And longs to feel thee all its trust. Thou art a God of sovereign love, Thy judgments are for ever pure; Not all the powers of hell shall move My soul from this foundation sure.

Didst thou not form my flesh from clay? Didst thou not guard my natal hour? Am I not still by night and day

Sustain'd by thine almighty power? Why should I fear to trust my Lord ? Or murmur at thy sacred will? My soul shall rest upon thy word,

And tho' thou slay me, trust thee still.

REFLECTION. .

To be, or not to be, that is the question."

My soul, consider what it is to die,

Low in the ground with fellow-worms to lie;
In dust, neglected and forgot, to sleep;
No more disturb'd, no more to wake and weep;
No more to sigh, neglected and forlorn;
No longer feel the proud oppressor's scorn:
My suff'rings, trials, and probation o'er,
And life's dull vanities attract no more.
Here all is tranquil-here the anguish'd breast,
In long and full quiescence sinks to rest.

But ah, to die!-to heave the parting breath,
And pass alone the gloomy vale of death!
No more to view the cheerful light of morn,
The smiling daylight, or the spring's return;
No more to wake!-but will the mighty mind,
That roves o'er vast creation unconfin'd,

Whose views are boundless, whose unfathom'd

power,

Brings past and future present in an hour;

Will it for ever sleep beneath the sod,
And render not its due account to God?

It cannot be the immortal mind shall live;
The deathless spirit ev'ry change survive;
The good-eternal blessedness to share ;
The bad-to sink in infinite despair.
Then, O my soul, thine evidence survey;
Art thou prepar'd to meet th' important day?
Will heaven's bright glory all thy suff'rings crown?
Or stern-eyed justice meet thee with a frown?
Shalt thou then rise above this scene of ills,
And mount seraphic where perfection dwells?
Or sink with fiends in infinite despair,
And hopeless pass a long for ever there?

Saviour, to thine atoning blood I fly,

With steadfast hope on thy dear wounds rely;
Then fearless meet the messenger of death,
And in thine arms resign the ling'ring breath;
While faith bestows its realizing light,
And blest eternity appears in sight.

This, only this, my all-prevailing plea,
The Friend of sinners bled and died for me;
Then where's thy victory, thou boasting king?
Thou grim terrific monster, where's thy sting?

THE MISSIONARY.

TO A YOUNG BROTHER, ON HEARING HIM EXPRESS A WISH TO BE EMPLOYED IN THE MISSIONARY WORK, ON A FOREIGN STATION.

HAIL! happy youth, whom Jesus' love cont

strains

To lift the cross on India's sultry plains,

In heathen lands to spread the Saviour's name,
Declare his goodness, and his love proclaim.

How must thy heart with holy ardour glow,
That thou thy home, thy kindred canst forego,
Decline the pleasing baits of promis'd wealth,
Nor fond of ease, but prodigal of health,
Zealous in holy Xavier's steps to tread,
Where Cancer's sun beats ardent on thy head,

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