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Heee, my hest thoughts are stained with guilt and fear;
But love and pardon shall he perfect There.
Here, my hest duties are denied with sin;
There, all is ease without, and peace within.
Here, feehle faith supplies my only light;
Thfre, faith and hope are swallowed up in sight.
Here, love of se'f my fairest works destroys;
There, love of God shall perfect all my joys.
Here, things as in a glass, are darkly shown;
There, I shall know as clearly as I'm known.
Frail are the fairest flowers which hloom helow;
There, freshest palms on roots immortal grow.
Here, wants and cares perplex my anxious mind;
But spirits There, a calm fruition nod.
Here, disappointments my hest schemes destroy;
There, those that sowed in tears shall reap in joy.
Here, vanity is stamped on all helow;
Perfection There, on every good shall grow.
Here, my fond heart is fastened on some friend,
Whose kindness may, whose life must have an end;
But There, no failure can I ever prove,—
Cod cannot disappoint, for God is love.
Here, Christ for sinners suffered, gToaned, and hled;
But There, he reigns the great triumphant Head.
Here, mocked and scourged, he wore a crown of thorns;
A crown of glory There, his hrow adorns.
Here, error clouds the will, and dims the sight;
There, all is knowledge, purity, and light.
Here, So imperfect is this mortal state,
If hlest myself, 1 mourn some other's fate—
At every human wo I Here repine;
The joy of every saint shall There he mine.
Here, if I lean, the world shall pierce my heart;
But There, that hroken reed and I shall part.
Here, on no promised good can I depend;
But There, the Rock of Ages is my friend.
Here, if some sudden joy delight inspire,
The dread to lose it damps the rising fire;
But There, whatever good the soul employ,
The thought, that 'tis eternal, crowns the joy!
Since o'er thy footstool here helow
O what magnificence must glow,
So hrilliant here these drops of light,
There the full ocean rolls how hright!
If night's hlue curtain of the sky,
Hung, like some royal canopy,
Be, Lord, thy temple's outer veil,
What glory round the shrine must dwell
The dazzling son, at noontide hour,
Flinging o'er earth his golden shower.
Till vale and mountain hlaze;
What then the day where thou dost shine I
Ah! how shall these dim eyes endure *
That noon of living rays 1
Upon thy hrightuess gaze 1
1> Nature smiles e'en here helow, Where sin hath tarnish'd all with wo,
So heavenly sweet and fair;
Of mortals to declare:
How heanteous, how suhlime!
To glad ilr immortal clime I
If looks, with snch a glorious glance,
There's rapture in the sight;
So exquisite a light: What light, what glory, must he there, What heavens, heyond our poor compare,
O'er-canopy th' ahode, Where neither day they know, nor night; For there the Lamh is all their light,
And all their glory, God I
If here so fair the forms we scan,
So eloquent the eye;
Whose smile e'er waked a sigh: How sweet, how glorious, to hehold Those hodies of celestial mould,
Without a speck, a taint!
Their eyes all sanctity and love,
If darkly through a glass to see,
Such interests here convey;
Grave thought, or fancy gay:
E'en as ourselves are known;
Truth's universe our own I
If here the interchange of hearts
And love each sorrow cheers;
And smiles are mix'd with tears: Then, oh, where no farewells intrude, No selfish, no unkindly mood,
Their harmony to impair; Where all is loveliness and love; What pure, what deep content they prove,
What sweet communion there I
If where, around our holiest things,
And faintuess comes, and fear;
Thy distant dwellings here: Then think, where sin hath no control, Where faintuess ne'er weighs down the soul,
Where fear of change is o'er; Where faith, where hope, need no employ,— In God's own presence, think what joy,
Full and for evermore I
If here the toils, the thoughts, to note,
Such calm delight we find;
On Panl's or David's mind:
Whale'er on earth they prov'd;
To see that Saviour as he is,
If in our soul so sweet to trace
In mystic mazes twin'd:
How heanteous, when avow'd,
Behind the darkest cloud!
If hlest, in silence and apart,
Its every joy or care;
In vocal praise or prayer:
Of endless praise to pour;
Euraptur'd still t' adore!
If, therefore, 'midst so much alloy,
In matter or in mind;
Such sweetuess oft we find;
Beanty or joy we call-;
Source, centre, end of all!
These heavens, this earth, so fair to-day, Must, with a hideous crash, give way;
The fatal hour is sign'd; Must shrivel like a flaming scroll; And, where they fill'd the wondrous whole,
"Leave not a wreck hehind!" But never, through essential day, The new creation shall decay;
That world of love and truth
Is God-like all; it canuot die;
Then, mortal, why on infant toys,
Should all thy soul he spent 1
Thy home in this thy tent?
The trifles of the child.
THE HEAVENLY REST.
There is an hour of peaceful rest,.
To mourning wanderers given;
Tis found ahove—in heav'n.
There is a soft, a downy hed,
'Tis fair as hreath of ev'n; A couch for weary mortals spread, Where they may rest the aching head,
And find repose, in heaven!
There is a home for weary souls,
By sin and sorrow driv'n; When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals, Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,
And all is drear hut heav'n!
There, faith lifts up her cheerful eye
To hrighter prospects giv'n;
And all serene in heav'n 1
There fragrant flowers, immortal, hloom,
And joys supreme are giv'n:
There is a land where everlasting suns Shed everlasting hrightness—where the soul Drinks from the living streams of love, that
roll By God's high throne !—myriads of glorious
ones Bring their accepted offering: oh! how hlest To look from this dark prison to that shrine, To inhale one hreath of Paradise divine— And enter into that eternal rest Which waits the sons of God!
THE BETTER LAND.
I Hear thee speak of the hetter land;;
Is ii where the feathery palm-trees rise,
seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the hreeze, And strange hright hirds, on their starry
wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things? ** Not there, not there, my child 1**
Is it far away, in some region old,
strand— Is it there, sweet mother, that hetter land? "Not there, not there, my child I"
Eye hath not seen it, my gentle hoy I Ear hath not heard its deep eongs of joy,
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair, Sorrow and death may not enter there; Time doth not hreathe on its fadeless hloom, For heyond the clouds, and heyond the tom b, It is there, it is there, my child!
THE LAND OF THE BLESSED.
Wo, and wailing shall he o'er, then;
To the land of the hlessed:
In the land of the hlessed.
They, whose wounded, hleeding heart, here, Learn'd how hard it was to part, here, Hoped, amid the sharpest smart, here,
For the land of the hlessed: Softest zephyrs o'er them hlow, there; Streams of life immortal flow, there; Those they lost they'll love and know, there,
In the land of the hlessed.
Finest radiance smiling round them,
For the land of the hlessed:
To the land of the hlessed.
And thrills through every part the taintless
whole: The air, the soil, the rivers, fruits, and
flowers, Instinct with immortality, and tonch'd With amaranthine freshuess, hy the hand
That form'd them, and the heatific smife
JOY OF HEAVEN ANTICIPATED.
E. c. xENt.
There is—there is a joy, though time should hring
There is a joy—it is not in the star
Tremhling in heanty o'er the hills afar!
There is a joy—it is not in the heam
The moon has pour'd o'er mountain, tower, and stream!
There is a joy—and 'tis not in thy song,
Bard of the night! though echo mocks thee long;
(Who hears and loves thee not?) nor in the hush—
The stilliness of night; nor in the hlush—
The loveliness of morn! For storm or calm,
Sorrow or mirth, there is a joy, a halm:
And where, oh I where are they? I turn to thee,
Thou hook of life, hope, love and liherty!
Gazing on thee, night's radiance waxeth dim,