Give thanks in everything!
Though thy portion be destroyed,
Though the waters have failed from every spring, And the storehouse of bliss is void.
Thy heart was slow to rise;
Earth was too dear to thee;
"Twas a hand of love that loosed the ties;
Sweeter thy rest will be!
Give thanks in everything!
For all "things" work thy good ;
Think'st thou thy Lord would evil bring
On the soul he bought with blood?
Thou wilt praise for all ere long,
Retraced by the light of heaven.
Hath faith in the dark no trustful song,
Ere open sight be given?
Give thanks in everything!
For the cross He bids thee bear,
For the flowers beside thy path that spring,
For the thorns that wound thee there;
For the sunshine on the way,
That makes thy journey sweet;
For the gloom descending while yet 'tis day,
That urges on thy feet.
Give thanks in everything!
For the gift He has denied ;
For the gathering clouds that make thee cling
More closely to His side;
For the parting light of morn ;
For the lengthening shadows gray
Life's evening is the dawn
Of everlasting day!
Give thanks in everything!
For the call (whate'er it be)
That shall bid thy prisoned soul take wing
Saved everlastingly!
Faith lost in vision bright!
Shadows in perfect day!
Fix there thy gaze, and the distant light
Shall illumine all thy way.
IT happened on a solemn eventide,
Soon after He that was our surety died;
Two bosom friends, each pensively inclined,
The scene of all those sorrows left behind,
Sought their own village, busied as they went
In musings worthy of the great event:
They spake of Him they loved, of Him whose life,
Though blameless, had incurred perpetual strife,
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts,
A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
The recollection like a vein of ore,
The farther traced, enriched them still the more;
They thought Him, and they justly thought Him one
Sent to do more than He appeared to have done;
To exalt a people, and to place them high,
Above all else, and wondered He should die.
Ere yet they brought their journey to an end,
A stranger joined them, courteous as a friend,
And asked them, with a kind engaging air,
What their affliction was, and begged a share.
Informed, He gathered up the broken thread,
And, truth and wisdom gracing all He said,
Explained, illustrated, and searched so well,
The tender theme on which they choose to dwell,
That, reaching home, the night, they said, is near,
We must not now be parted, sojourn here—
The new acquaintance soon became a guest,
And, made so welcome at their simple feast,
He blessed the bread, but vanished at the word,
And left them both exclaiming, 'Twas the Lord,
Did not our hearts feel all He deigned to say,
Did they not burn within us by the way?
Now theirs was converse, such as it behoves
Man to maintain, and such as God approves;
Their views indeed were indistinct and dim,
But yet successful, being aimed at Him.
Christ and His character their only scope,
Their object, and their subject, and their hope,
They felt what it became them much to feel,
And, wanting Him to loose the sacred seal,
Found Him as prompt as their desire was true,
To spread the new-born glories in their view.
"DID WASH HIS FEET WITH TEARS."
THE precious nard, the glorious hair,
The Alabaster white and rare,
Broken yet precious-frail, yet fair :
Her love, her hopes and fears—
Low bent to earth that chastened brow
With all its thought,—where are they now?
Laid at Christ's feet with tears.
Like some sad year's late paly flowers,
She brought her life's remaining hours-
Her costliest gifts and rarest powers-
Her best, yet all unmeet,
To offer Him whose love and grace
Had found for her poor soul a place
Of refuge at His feet.
O pardoned soul! and what hast thou
Wherewith in thankful praise to bow
Low at His feet who heard thy vow,
And helped thee in thy need?
Fain wouldst thou bring it, but, alas!
The sweetest thoughts too quickly pass,
Unworthy is the meed.
The heart's deep love through knowledge dim,
The busy mind, the active limb,
Say wouldst thou give again to Him,
Whose own by right they are?
What though the Alabaster break?
Then love its course more free may take,
Where time nor sense again shall make
Impediment or bar.
Oh! if we lay them at His feet-
These lives of ours-how sadly meet
Are penitential tears!
Tears for the priceless, ruined past,
For sin against a love so vast,
Long slighted, victor at the last
O'er all our faithless fears.
Tears for the sins we mingle most
With holy things in motley host,
For cold, unworthy thought
For duties passed and left undone,
For all the way so weakly run,
For blessing unbesought.
And yet if He accept, and say
The tender words that bids us stay
(Since none that come He casts away)
It is not vain or wild
To offer Him with many a tear,
And late, our gift He stoops to cheer
His changed and pardoned child!
MRS HENRY FAUSSETT (ALESSIE BOND).
DAVID AND ABSALOM.
THE pall was settled. He who slept beneath
Was straightened for the grave; and, as the folds
Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed.
The matchless symmetry of Absalom.
His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls
Were floating round the tassels as they swayed
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