The voice at midnight came,
He started up to hear;
A mortal arrow pierced his frame,
He fell, but felt no fear.
Tranquil amidst alarms,
It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.
His sword was in his hand,
Still warm with recent fight,
Ready that moment, at command,
Through rock and steel to smite.
It was a two-edged blade
Of heavenly temper keen;
And double were the wounds it made,
Where'er it glanced between.
'Twas death to sin,-'twas life
To all who mourn'd for sin;
It kindled and it silenced strife,
Made war and peace within.
Oft with its fiery force
His arm had quell'd the foe,
And laid, resistless in his course,
The alien-armies low.
Bent on such glorious toils,
The world to him was loss,
Yet all his trophies, all his spoils,
He hung upon the cross.
At midnight came the cry,
"To meet thy God prepare!"
He woke, and caught his Captain's eye;
Then, strong in faith and prayer,
His spirit, with a bound,
Left its encumbering clay;
His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darken'd ruin lay.
The pains of death are past,
Labour and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
535.
On the appointment of a Minister.
1 WE bid thee welcome in the name
Of Jesus, our exalted Head;—
Come as a Servant,-so He came,
And we receive thee in his stead.
2 Come as a Shepherd; guard and keep
This fold from hell, and earth, and sin;
Nourish the lambs, and feed the sheep,
The wounded heal, the lost bring in.
3 Come as a Watchman; take thy stand
Upon thy tower amidst the sky,
And when the sword comes on the land,
Call us to fight, or warn to fly.
4 Come as an Angel, hence to guide
A band of pilgrims on their way,
That safely walking at thy side,
We fail not, faint not, turn nor stray.
5 Come as a Teacher sent from God,
Charged his whole counsel to declare;
Lift o'er our ranks the prophet's rod,
While we uphold thy hands with prayer.
6 Come as a Messenger of peace,
Fill'd with the Spirit, fired with love;
Live to behold our large increase,
And die to meet us all above.
Appeal from Poor Children.
1 FRIENDS of the poor, the young, the weak,
Regard our humble train:
Compassion at your hands we seek;
-Shall children plead in vain?
2 Were you not children once?--Renew
The time when young as we;
Think of the friends that nourish'd you,
And hearken to our plea.
3 Are there not feelings from above,
In every heart that reign?
The pulse, the voice, the look of love;
-Shall nature plead in vain?
4 Have you no dear ones round your hearth,
As weak and young as we?
Think, if like ours had been their birth,
Could you resist their plea?
5 Have you not known a Saviour's grace,
For man's redemption slain?
Behold that Saviour in our place;
-Shall Jesus plead in vain?
6 No;-by his early griefs and tears,
When poor and young as we;
By all his woes in after years,
Accept your Saviour's plea.
537.
Children recalling Christ's example and his love.
1 WHEN Jesus left his Father's throne,
He chose an humble birth;
Like us, unhonour'd and unknown,
He came to dwell on earth.
2 Like Him, may we be found below
In wisdom's paths of peace;
Like Him, in grace and knowledge grow,
As years and strength increase.
3 Jesus pass'd by the rich and great,
For men of low degree;
He sanctified our parents' state,
For poor like them was He.
4 Sweet were his words, and kind his look,
When mothers round Him press'd ;
Their infants in his arms He took,
And on his bosom bless'd.
5 Safe from the world's alluring harms,
Beneath his watchful eye,
Thus in the circle of his arms,
May we for ever lie.
6 When Jesus into Salem rode,
The children sang around;
For joy they pluck'd the palms, and strow'd
Their garments on the ground.
7 Hosanna, our glad voices raise,
Hosanna to our King;
Should we forget our Saviour's praise,
The stones themselves would sing.
8 For we have learn'd to love his name;
That name divinely sweet,
May every pulse through life proclaim,
And our last breath repeat.
Children numbering their days.
THE pure and peaceful mind,
The meek and lowly heart,
The patient will to thine resign'd,
God of all power impart.
Young though in years we be,
In health and spirits strong,
What is the life of man to Thee?
The longest is not long.
A thousand years, a day,
Are equal in thy sight;
Our generations pass away,
Like watches of the night.
Lord, make us timely wise
To know our call of grace;
And with the moment, as it flies,
Run our appointed race :
Perils, allurements, bonds breaks through,
-Most faithful when most tried!
Thus, till we reach the goal,
All else we count but loss;
Nor, till we gain the prize,-our soul,—
Grow weary of the cross.
Children acknowledging the providence and goodness of
God.
1 THE children's Angels always view
Their heavenly Father's face;
His joyful messengers and true,
In Providence and grace:-
2 To guard our feeble steps; to keep
From harm our living breath, |
Watch o'er our senses while we sleep,
And waft us home in death.
3 But not to Angels' care alone
Poor children are consign'd;
To God Himself our wants are known,
The Lord to us is kind.
4 Yes; every comfort here below,
And every hope above;
All that we have and are, we owe
To his unfailing love.
5 Then let us act as in his sight,
And on our humble way
Walk in the liberty of light,
As children of the day.
6 Young though we be, and in the prime
Of life's unfolding powers,
Of all the moments of our time,
This, only this, is ours.
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