The humble Pilgrim's mantle down is cast,
But not the armour: as the warrior here
Graceth his triumph with the sword and spear,
And shews, exultingly, how tried, how true,
The arms that could his mighty foes subdue ;
So faith, and love, and all that helped to win
The victory, with the victors entereth in ;
And back to Him who gave them are restored,
To be as jewels treasured-shield and sword.
M. A. BROWNE.
Lord of truth and life immortal!
Draw us to that shining way,
Lift for us the narrow portal,
Hold us ever lest we stray.
Give us hearts to scorn all pleasure
That would tempt one step aside,
Be Thy smile our single treasure,
And Thy blessed voice our guide.
That we may walk with God,
He forms our hearts anew;
Takes us, like Ephraim, by the hand,
And teaches us to go.
He by His Spirit leads,
In paths before unknown;
The work to be perform'd is our's,
The strength is all His own.
Assisted by His grace,
We still pursue our way;
And hope at last to reach the prize,
Secure in endless day.
'Tis He that works to will,
'Tis He that works to do;
His is the power by which we act,
His be the glory too.
They say, who know the life divine,
And upward gaze with eagle eyne,
That by each golden crown on high,
Rich with celestial jewelry,
Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set,
There hangs a radiant coronet,
All gemm'd with pure and living light,
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
Prepar'd for virgin souls, and them
Who seek the martyr's diadem.
And there are souls that seem to dwell
Above this earth-so rich a spell
Floats round their steps, where'er they move,
From hopes fulfill'd and mutual love.
Such, if on high their thoughts are set,
Nor in the stream the source forget,
If prompt to quit the bliss they know,
Following the Lamb where'er He go,
By purest pleasures unbeguil'd
To idolize or wife or child;
Such wedded souls our God shall own
For faultless virgins round His throne.
Sing, ye redeemed of the Lord,
Your great Deliverer sing;
Pilgrims, for Zion's city bound,
Be joyful in your King.
See the fair way His hand hath made,
How peaceful and how plain :
The simplest traveller shall not err,
Nor seek the road in vain.
No ravening lion shall destroy,
Nor lurking serpent wound,
Safety, support, and heavenly joy,
Through all the way are found.
A hand divine shall lead you on,
Along the blissful road;
Till to the sacred mount ye rise,
And city of your God.
There garlands of immortal joy
Shall bloom on every head,
While pain, and sorrow, and distress,
Like shadows all are fled.
Proceed in your Redeemer's strength,
Pursue His footsteps still;
And let the prospect cheer your eyes.
While you ascend the hill.
Not merely in the name, but in the spirit— If thou the real fire, the life divine,
Sent from the Almighty, dost with Him inherit, Clinging to heaven by the same silver cord,Well wilt thou know thy brethren in the Lord.
His path is on towards heaven; not as the flight
Of a young wood-bird towards the morning sky,
Won by the glory of the upward light,
Yet shrinking back to earth when storms are nigh;
But as towards its mark, speeds on the arrow,
His field as boundless, yet his path as narrow.
One, like a radiant blossom raised from earth,
And rooted there in its material part,
Yet ever breathing unseen fragrance forth,
The very hidden treasure of his heart,
His root is clay, yet, bathed in heavenly air,
He lifts his head, and breathes his soul in prayer.
The glorious alchemy-the only one
That turneth dross to gold, hath touched his heart ; The clear and sunny light of grace hath shone Into his soul, and never shall depart ;
Like the pure flame, that basest matter turns
Into its own fine substance, as it burns.
God has been with him, and is with him yet,
And shall be with him-not as erst He walked
In Eden's garden, when the sun was set,
And but sometimes with His new creatures talked ;
With this adopted one, the Reconciled,
He dwelleth at all hours, and ne'er shall leave His child.
"Who is my mother, or my brethren ?"
He spake, and looked on them who sat around,
With a meek smile, of pity blent with love,
More melting than e'er gleamed from human face-
As when a sunbeam, through a summer shower,
Shines mildly on a little hill-side flock;
And with that look of love, He said, "Behold
My mother, and my brethren: for I say,
That whosoe'er shall do the will of God,
He is my brother, sister, mother, all."
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