For God hath marked each anguished day,
And numbered every secret tear;
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
For all his children suffer here.
WHEREWITH shall we approach the Lord,
And bow before his throne ?
Or how procure his kind regard,
And for our guilt atone?
Shall altars flame, and victims bleed,
And spicy fumes ascend?
Will these our earnest wish succeed,
And make our God our friend?
Let no such hopes our souls delude ;
Such pompous rites are vain;
But God has shown us what is good,
And how his love to gain.
To men their rights we must allow,
And proofs of kindness give;
To God, with humble reverence bow,
And to his glory live.
Hands that are clean, and hearts sincere,
He never will despise ;
And cheerful duty will prefer
To costly sacrifice.
AWAKE, my soul! stretch every nerve,
And press with vigor on :
A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.
A cloud of witnesses around
Hold thee in full survey;
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.
'Tis God's all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high;
'Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye :-
That prize, with peerless glories bright,
Which shall new lustre boast,
When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems
Shall blend in common dust.
My soul with all thy wakened powers,
Survey the immortal prize;
Nor let the glittering toys of earth,
Allure thy wandering eyes.
BLEST be the tie that binds
Our hearts in Christian love; The fellowship of kindred minds, Is like to that above.
The Spirit of the dying Son
Is here, and fills the holy place
With records sweet of duties done,
Of pardoned foes, and cherished grace.
Before our Father's throne
We pour our ardent prayers;
Our fears, our hopes, our aims are one,
Our comforts, and our cares.
We share our mutual woes;
Our mutual burdens bear;
And often for each other flows
The sympathising tear.
And as of old, by two and two,
His herald saints the Saviour sent
To soften hearts like morning dew,
Where he to shine in mercy meant;
So evermore He deems his name
Best honored and his way prepared,
When watching by his altar-flame
He sees his servants duly paired.
He loves when age and youth are met,
Fervent old age and youth serene,
Their high and low in concord set
For sacred song, Joy's golden mean.
He loves when some clear soaring mind
Is drawn by mutual piety
To simple souls, and unrefined,
Who in life's shadiest covert lie.
Or if perchance a saddened heart,
That once was gay and felt the spring,
Cons slowly o'er its altered part,
In sorrow and remorse to sing,
When we asunder part,
It gives us inward pain;
But we shall still be joined in heart,
And hope to meet again.
This glorious hope revives
Our courage by the way;
While each in expectation lives,
And longs to see the day.
From sorrow, toil and pain,
And sin, we shall be free;
And perfect love and friendship reign
Through all eternity.
Thy gracious care will send that way
Some spirit full of glee, yet taught
To bear the sight of dull decay,
And nurse it with all pitying thought;
Cheerful as soaring lark, and mild
As evening blackbird's full-toned lay,
When the relenting sun has smiled
Bright through a whole December day.
These are the tones to brace and cheer
The lonely watcher of the fold,
When nights are dark, and foeman near,
When visions fade and hearts grow cold
How timely then a comrade's song
Comes floating on the mountain air,
And bids thee yet be bold and strong-
Fancy may die, but faith is there.
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