Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

O may I doubt no more,

But in His pleasure rest ; Built on His love, His truth and power,

My soul is truly blest :

T' accomplish His design,

All dark events agree ; And every attribute divine

Is now at work for me.

“ HE HATH PREPARED FOR THEM A city.”

JERUSALEM, my happy home!

Name ever dear to me,
When shall my labours have an end,

In joy, and peace, and thee !

When shall these eyes Thy heaven-built walls

And pearly gates behold ?
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,

And streets of shining gold ?

O when, thou city of my God,

Shall 1 thy courts ascend,
Where congregations ne'er break up,

And sabbaths have no end ?

There happier bowers than Eden's, bloom,

Nor sin nor sorrow know : Blest seats ! through rude and stormy scenes, I onward press to you.

Why should I shrink at pain and woe,

Or feel at death dismay ?
I've Canaan's goodly land in view,

And realms of endless day.

Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there,

Around my Saviour stand ; And soon my friends in Christ below,

Will join the glorious band.

Jerusalem! my happy home!

My soul still pants for thee;
Then shall my labours have an end,

When I thy joys shall sec.

“ THOU IN FAITHFULNESS HAST AFFLICTED ME.”

God's furnace doth in Zion stand,

But Zion's God stands by,
As the refiner views his gold,

With an observant eye.

His thoughts are high, His love is wise,

His wounds a cure intend ;
And though He doth not always smile,

He loves unto the end.

Thy love is constant to its line,

Though clouds oft come between ;
Oh! could my faith but pierce those clouds,

It might be always seen.

But I am weak, and forced to cry,

Take up my soul to Thee;
Then, as Thou ever art the same,

So shall I also be.

"THE MAID IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH.”

LEFT in her little room alone,

The Ruler's child lay stiff and dead, While, vainly warm, the Syrian sun

Played round her cold and silent bed ;

While, vainly soft, from Judah's hills

Sighed through the lattice the soft air,
That could not move the close white lip,

Nor heave again the bosom fair.

The voice of anguish and despair

Is loud within the chamber near, Of them lamenting bitterly

Her early doom with groan and tear.

Her mother maketh grievous moan :

"Ah! had the sire more swiftly sped, And brought the mighty Prophet here

Ere the last lingering breath was filed!

« AnteriorContinuar »