HYMN FOR A SICK BROTHER. THOUGH my brother's cheek is pale, Though strength and pulse and spirits fail, Yet we may hold sweet converse still, Though his sports have ceased to please, Yet there are themes more dear than these, His infant mind was taught to read That book, the food of all who need Now on its pages let us dwell, And open Thou his ear, Whilst we of life and mercy tell, That message still to hear; Oh, give him strength to prize that lore, Let thy blessing, Saviour, rest May his bed of pain be blessed, Through fear and suffering and the grave, If thy gracious will decree That here he tarry not, Thou in our hour of trial be, And soothe his mortal lot; Through the dark pass we all must treadOh, shield him dying-bless him dead! ON THE DEATH OF A BROTHER. MY BROTHER! thou art laid Within thy little tomb; Sweet brother! thou hast paid Thy debt to justice soon; Whatever sorrow may befall, Our God hath sheltered thee from all. I love to think on thee, And thy bright smiling brow, Thy many gifts to me, More dearly precious now! Dear brother! every book we read Seems to speak to me from the dead. |