Dean Alford's general poems were never popular, nor do they possess the qualities which secure the "audience fit, though few," which is the consolation of so many who miss wider recognition. His translations show the scholar rather than the poet, and his other poems lack originality of thought and poetic felicity of diction. The following lines, dated 1862 and entitled "Life's Answer," were contributed to Macmillan's Magazine: I know not if the dark or bright Shall be my lot: If that wherein my hopes delight It may be mine to drag for years Or day and night my meat be tears Dear faces may surround my hearth Or I may dwell alone, and mirth Be strange to me. My bark is wafted to the strand By breath divine: And on the helm there rests a hand Other than mine. One who has known in storms to sail I have on board: Above the raving of the gale I hear my Lord. He holds me when the billows smite, I shall not fall: If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light; Safe to the land-safe to the land, The end is this: And then with Him go hand in hand Far into bliss. ALFRED H. MILES. HENRY ALFORD. 1.-IN TOKEN THAT THOU SHALT NOT FEAR (BAPTISM.) 'N token that thou shalt not fear IN tokist crucified to own, We print the cross upon thee here, In token that thou shalt not blush We blazen here upon thy front In token that thou shalt not flinch In token that thou too shalt tread Thus outwardly and visibly We seal thee for His own; And may the brow that wears His cross II-COME, YE THANKFUL PEOPLE. OME, ye thankful people, come, COME Raise the song of Harvest-home All is safely gather'd in Ere the winter storms begin: For our wants to be supplied ;- All this world is God's own field, For the Lord our God shall come, Even so, Lord, quickly come, In Thy garner to abide : Come, with all Thine angels, come, Raise the glorious Harvest-home! III.-TEN THOUSAND TIMES TEN THOUSAND (TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.) EN thousand times ten thousand, En sparkling raiment bright, The armies of the ransom'd saints Throng up the steeps of light: 'Tis finish'd-all is finish'd, Their fight with death and sin; Fling open wide the golden gates And let the victors in. What rush of Hallelujas Fills all the earth and sky! And all its tribes were made! O then what raptured greetings That brimm'd with tears of late; Orphans no longer fatherless, Bring near Thy great salvation Thou Lamb for sinners slain, Fill up the roll of Thine elect, Appear, Desire of nations,— Thine exiles long for home; Show in the heavens Thy promised sign; Thou Prince and Saviour, come ! IV.-FORWARD! BE OUR WATCHWORD. FORW (PROCESSIONAL.) ORWARD! be our watchword, Seek the things before us, Not a look behind; At our army's head; Who shall dream of shrinking, Through the toil and fight; Jordan flows before us, Zion beams with light! Forward, when in childhood Faint not, till around us Gleams the Father's face. Blind, they grope for day; Pour upon the nations Wisdom's loving ray, |