Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

THE world with stones, instead of bread,

Our hungry souls has often fed;

It promised health,-in one short hour
Perished the fair but fragile flower;
It promised riches,-in a day

They made them wings and fled away;
It promised friends,-all sought their own,
And left my widowed heart alone.

Lord! with the barren service spent,
To Thee my suppliant knee I bent ;
And found in Thee a Father's grace,
His hand, His heart, His faithfulness;
The voice of peace, the smile of love,
The bread which feeds the saints above;
And tasted in this world of woe,

A joy its children never know.

"FOOLS MAKE A MOCK AT SIN!"

WHO laughs at sin, laughs at his Maker's frowns; Laughs at the sword of vengeance o'er his head Laughs at the great Redeemer's tears and wounds, Who, but for sin, had never wept or bled.

Who laughs at sin, laughs at the numerous woes
Which have the guilty world so oft befel;
Laughs at the whole creation's groans and throes,-
At all the spoils of death, and pains of hell.

Who laughs at sin, laughs at his own disease; Welcomes approaching torments with his smiles; Dares at his soul's expense his fancy please, Affronts his God, himself of bliss beguiles.

Who laughs at sin, sports at his guilt and shame;
Laughs at the errors of his senseless mind:
For so absurd a fool, there wants a name,

Expressive of a folly so refined.

;

66 HE KEEPETH THE FEET OF HIS SAINTS."

THRICE comfortable hope,

That calms the troubled breast; My Father's hand prepares the cup, And what He wills is best.

His

His skill infallible,

His providential grace,

power and truth, that never fail,

Shall order all my ways.

The fancied powers of chance

And fortune, I defy;

My life's minutest circumstance

Is subject to His eye.

He hears the raven's call;
Nor can His children grieve,
Nor can a worthless sparrow fall,
Without my Father's leave.

T

O may I doubt no more,

But in His pleasure rest;

Built on His love, His truth and

My soul is truly blest:

T'accomplish His design,
All dark events agree;
And every attribute divine
Is now at work for me.

power,

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 I 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.

« AnteriorContinuar »