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FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D 
 
 BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
 
* 
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2013 
 
 http://archive.org/details/thougOOIond 
 
C 
 
HYMNS AND THOUGHTS 
 
 IN VERSE 
 
• M AY 8 ft ™ 
 
 
 HYMNS 
 
 
 AND 
 
 THOUGHTS in VERSE. 
 
 By E. A. W. 
 
 SSittj ait Inirobtttfiott, 
 
 REV. HORATIUS BONAR, d.d. 
 
 LONDON : 
 WILLIAM HUNT AND COMPANY, 
 
 23, HOLLES STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 
 
LONDON : 
 WILLIAM HUNT AND COMPANY. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Let every one sing the song which God has 
 sent him into this world to sing ; and let him 
 sing it truly and well. 
 
 Let every one use the voice or lyre which 
 God has given him; sure of this, that his own 
 gifts are the best for the purpose which the 
 Eternal Wisdom had in view. 
 
 Each seed contains its own leaf, and flower, 
 and fragrance; not those of other seeds. Each 
 seed, rightly sown and watched, brings forth 
 the leaf, and flower, and fragrance, which were 
 wrapped up in it by its Creator. No seed 
 mistakes its nature or vocation, nor does one 
 envy or despise its fellow. The date-stone 
 gives the palm, and the small grey atom the 
 grass of the meadow; each evolving its own 
 nature, and content therewith ; each, by keep- 
 
vi Introduction, 
 
 ing to its own path, fulfilling its true vocation 
 more nobly than by attempting to cross into 
 another field and do another's work. 
 
 As each creature has its own corner to oc- 
 cupy, and each Christian his own work to do ; 
 so has each one a separate and special circle 
 through which his influence extends. That 
 circle may be larger or smaller, more or less 
 important ; still it is his own, and within it he 
 can exert an influence and do a work which 
 no one else can do, a work which otherwise 
 must be left undone. 
 
 We are to shine as lights in the world; each 
 one in his own way, in his own circle, and 
 with his own beams. We are to shine with 
 the quiet yet blessed consciousness, — a con- 
 sciousness in which there need be no arrogance 
 nor self-sufficiency, — that the world is less 
 dark because we are here, and will be darker 
 when we are gone. We are to speak, or write, 
 or sing, with the consciousness that we are of 
 some use to the world in so doing ; and that it 
 
Introduction. vii 
 
 is impossible for us, however obscure and low- 
 gifted, to speak, or write, or sing in vain. 
 
 The poet does not sing for himself, but for 
 others ; it may be for his fellow men at large, 
 or for the Church of God ; it may be for his 
 own age, or for ages to come. Yet he does 
 not the less on that account enjoy his song or 
 reap its benefits. Coleridge spoke in the 
 name of many besides himself when he said, 
 "poetry has been to me its own exceeding 
 great reward ; it has soothed my afflictions ; 
 it has multiplied and refined my enjoy- 
 ments ; it has endeared solitude ; and it has 
 given me the habit of wishing to discover the 
 good and beautiful in all that meets and sur- 
 rounds me." 
 
 Milton has "sung his elaborate song to gen- 
 erations,'' and the effects of his poetry upon 
 the world or upon the Church, are not such 
 as can be measured. The peal that he rung 
 out into the air of England two centuries ago, 
 is still there, and still telling upon us. That 
 
Vlll 
 
 Introduction. 
 
 which he did on a great scale, hundreds since 
 have been doing on a smaller. Each hymn that 
 has gone out from the most obscure minstrel 
 has done its work, if it has taken possession of 
 the Church, and helped to mould, or strengthen, 
 or comfort, or build up a saint. It might not 
 contain "thoughts that breathe and words that 
 burn ; " it might be plain and unpoetic, — the 
 mere utterance of intense spiritual feeling, — 
 but it took hold of men's ears and hearts. 
 They sang it ; their children sang it after 
 them ; it wove itself into the texture of the 
 age ; it gave its tinge to the devotion of a cen- 
 tury. Such is " Rock of Ages, cleft for me ; " 
 such is "Jesus, lover of my soul;'' such is 
 "Jesus, and shall it ever be?" They who 
 wrote these lyrics, and threw them out like 
 leaves upon the air to float away they knew 
 not whither, were not aware of what they were 
 doing; but they did a work that is to last. 
 They are not upon the world's roll of poets, 
 but they have struck out notes which have 
 
Introduction. ix 
 
 taken hold upon the spiritual history of thou- 
 sands, and contributed more than volumes of 
 divinity to preserve faith alive, to kindle hope 
 and love, and to infuse vitality into dead 
 creeds, or warmth into frozen forms. 
 
 Let the reader accept this little volume as 
 that of one who has spoken from her heart ; 
 who has sung her own song, in her own way, 
 upon her own harp. Her poetic gift she has 
 used for God, and consecrated to His praise. 
 Again and again she has soothed herself and 
 gladdened others with Christian song, in va- 
 rious pieces and fragments. Now she gathers 
 them together in one, and commends them to 
 the Church of God. They will, I am per- 
 suaded, be welcome to those who have already 
 known them ; and no less so to those to whom 
 this book may for the first time introduce 
 them. 
 
 Religious poetry is plentiful in our day, and 
 is doing its work even by its very abundance. 
 Perhaps in some cases it has too much of sen- 
 
X 
 
 Introduction, 
 
 timent and too little of praise ; too much of 
 man, too little of God. But there can be no 
 doubt that it is telling upon men's minds in 
 all directions; and it is of no small importance 
 that what is genuine and spiritual in it should 
 be carefully sought and perpetuated. It will 
 tell upon the next generation as well as ours. 
 Our children and children's children will profit 
 by each true song that we are singing now ; 
 therefore we say, — 
 
 "Dulcis sonet harmonia, 
 Dulci dignum memoria, 
 
 Pangamus proeconium. 
 Sic cantatur laus in ore, 
 Ut concordat cum canore 
 
 Affectus psallentium. " 
 
 HORATIUS BONAR, D.D. 
 
 Kelso, October \^th, 1864. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Ah, faith can sweetly, loudly sing 
 
 74 
 
 Ah ! how delightsome 
 
 50 
 
 Ah ! these are days of wisdom 
 
 14 
 
 All day and night, all night and day . . , 
 
 54 
 
 Be still my soul, let nothing stir 
 
 49 
 
 Church of God, so meekly bowing 
 
 44 
 
 Come to me, come to me, Jesus, my Saviour 
 
 12 
 
 Fold me gently, gently, Saviour 
 
 19 
 
 Higher ! Higher ! 
 
 66 
 
 Home of the Conquerors ! How bright 
 
 4 
 
 Hope on, hope ever, Christian 
 
 75 
 
 I am bound for the kingdom 
 
 23 
 
 I knocked at a dwelling of lordly state 
 
 81 
 
 I long for Heaven ! How I long to know 
 
 52 
 
 % In the still lone hours of night 
 
 ... 69 
 
 I should not mourn my passing youth . . . 
 
 61 
 
 Is it a long way off ? 
 
 40 
 
 Is it sin, or is it sorrow ? 
 
 13 
 
 It must not be ! Not yet ... 
 
 47 
 
 Mine be the penitent's place 
 
 » 36 
 
 My God, a thousand snares unite 
 
 92 
 
 My life is hid in Jesus 
 
 73 
 
xii Index, 
 
 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 child of God, how glorious 
 
 64 
 
 for the Holy Land, where all is pure 
 
 32 
 
 God, the world is striving 
 
 27 
 
 Our feet shall stand within Thy gate 
 
 21 
 
 Precious Saviour, may I live 
 
 7 
 
 Rest ! Rest from anxious thought 
 
 63 
 
 Seek Patience, my soul ... 
 
 60 
 
 Silent and still are they lying now 
 
 9 
 
 Soon we shall all go to Christ 
 
 90 
 
 Still in loving, still in loving 
 
 1 
 
 Swift and bright as a shooting star 
 
 94 
 
 The work is not yet done ! I feel that still 
 
 77 
 
 There wanteth words to tell 
 
 7i 
 
 'Tis Christmas time, and well the year should close 
 
 79 
 
 Tis Jubilee ! tis Jubilee ! 
 
 38 
 
 Trust in thy Lord again 
 
 86 
 
 Trust not these seas again ... 
 
 83 
 
 Trust on, trust on, believer 
 
 6 
 
 Upon each mountain crest 
 
 5i 
 
 We are willing to be weary 
 
 30 
 
 When the shrill blast of war is heard ... 
 
 17 
 
 Where art Thou Jesus ? In the far off Home 
 
 58 
 
 Why plant the cypress, when so calm ... 
 
 56 
 
 Why tarry the wheels of His chariot ... 
 
 34 
 
 Wings ! Wings ! 
 
 42 
 
 Without a care, without a fear 
 
 88 
 
 Yes, Thou wilt give me victory 
 
 25 
 
 — 
 
%abt f t %man. 
 
 Still in loving, still in loving, more than 
 
 being loved, is bliss ; 
 He who has no other pleasure ever may 
 
 rejoice in this. 
 
 Be it skill, or be it leisure, be it health we 
 
 have to give; 
 Still in spending life for others Christians 
 
 only really live. 
 
 What in love we yield to others, by a 
 
 charm we still retain ; 
 For the loved one's acquisition is the lover's 
 
 double gain. 
 
 Yet we know in love's increasing is increase 
 
 of grief and care ; 
 For the pains of those around him, pained 
 
 the loving heart must bear. 
 B 
 
2 
 
 Love and Sorrow walk together o'er the 
 
 sin-beclouded earth ; 
 
 
 Love and Sorrow sing together 
 
 in the 
 
 country of our birth. 
 
 
 Wheresoever Sorrow wanders, Love should 
 
 go and raise her up : 
 
 
 At the many wells of Marah Love should 
 
 stoop and share the cup. 
 
 
 Let the careless seek their pleasure, 
 
 give— 
 
 if e'er they give — their pelf; 
 
 
 But the loving, truly loving, gives — and 
 
 loves to give — himself. 
 
 
 Happy if by his endeavour, — by his 
 
 sufifer- 
 
 ing, others gain : 
 
 
 If some comrade o'er his body 
 
 may a 
 
 wished for height attain. 
 
 
 Secrets here of love and sorrow, if in 
 
 meek- 
 
 ness we shall learn ; 
 
 
 Secrets soon of love and gladness 
 
 we in 
 
 heaven shall discern. 
 
 
'Mid the light, so all-pervading, of the spi- 
 rits' home above, 
 
 We shall learn the depth of meaning of the 
 saying, "God is love." 
 
 And transformed to His likeness, we, — O 
 
 blessed thought, — shall be 
 Loved and loving ; loving, through a bright 
 
 eternity. 
 

 §omt of i\t €w&qmat$. 
 
 Home of the conquerors ! How bright, 
 How glorious are thy walls of light ! 
 Through Christ may we admittance win, 
 And late or early enter in. 
 
 No clang of arms, no shouts, are there 
 Borne on the ever tranquil air ; 
 No snares are spread, nor serpents fold, 
 Upon those shining paths of gold. 
 
 No hostile force is there descried ; 
 No murmurs heard of hate or pride : 
 To all the storms that here may swell 
 The saints of heaven have bid farewell. 
 
 No painful memories and rude 
 Upon their perfect rest intrude ; 
 All that is bitter here shall bear 
 The fruits of peace and glory there. 
 
5 
 
 O joy ! when all our fears and ill 
 Shall cease at Jesus' " Peace ! be still ! " 
 O joy ! when, every conflict o'er, 
 We shall be righteous evermore. 
 
 Who can conceive, or who express, 
 The charms of perfect holiness ? 
 The bliss of feeling beat within 
 A heart made free from every sin ? 
 
 In some sweet hours of Sabbath peace 
 Our warfare here may seem to cease ; 
 But soon expires the apparent truce, 
 And all our sin again breaks loose. 
 
 But tJiere, as heaven's noon-day light 
 Will never fade away to night, 
 The glory of our spirits pure 
 Shall evermore undim'd endure. 
 
 Home of the conquerors ! We press 
 Towards thy seats of happiness : 
 Through Christ our Lord we fight, we win ; 
 And thy bright gates shall let us in ! 
 
%x)x%\ on ! 
 
 Trust on ! Trust on, believer ! 
 
 Though long the conflict be, 
 Thou yet shalt prove victorious, — 
 
 Thy God shall fight for thee. 
 
 Trust on ! Trust on ! Thy failings 
 May bow thee to the dust, 
 
 Yet in thy deepest sorrow, 
 O give not up thy trust ! 
 
 Trust on ! The danger presses ; 
 
 Temptation strong is near. 
 Over life's dangerous rapids, 
 
 Who shall thy passage steer ? 
 
 0, Christ is strong to save us ! 
 
 He is a faithful Friend ! 
 Trust on ! Trust on, thou Christian ! 
 
 Trust Jesus to the end ! 
 
7 
 
 (Mjr fox %\tt. 
 
 Precious Saviour, may I live 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Spend the powers Thou dost give, 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Be my spirit's deep desire 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 May my intellect aspire 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 In my joys may I rejoice 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 In my choices make my choice 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Meekly may I suffer grief 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Gratefully accept relief 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 

 
 8 
 
 Be 
 
 • 
 
 my smiles and be my tears 
 
 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Be 
 
 my young 
 
 and riper years 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Be 
 
 my singing and my sighing 
 
 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Be 
 
 my sickness and my dying 
 
 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Be 
 
 my rising, 
 
 be my glory 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 Be 
 
 my whole 
 
 eternity 
 
 
 
 Only for Thee. 
 
 
Rev. xi. 18. 
 
 Silent and still are they lying now, 
 Silent and still in the sacred earth, 
 While the birds sing out from the yew's dark 
 
 bough, - 
 And the children trip by in their thoughtless 
 
 mirth. 
 But the time of the dead shall come, shall 
 
 come ! 
 They shall stir, they shall wake, they shall 
 
 rise! 
 
 The days, the years pass on ! Pass on 
 Summer and winter with changeful hours : 
 Little they heed of the fast falling snow, 
 And they take no note of the opening flowers. 
 
IO 
 
 But the time of the dead shall come, shall 
 
 come ! 
 They shall stir, they shall wake, they shall 
 
 rise ! 
 
 On the land they love comes weal, comes woe, 
 Sweet hours of peace, or wars rude alarms : 
 But the patriot's heart lies still below ; 
 And he leaps not up at the shout — "To arms!" 
 But the time of the dead shall come, shall 
 
 come! 
 They shall stir, they shall wake, they shall 
 
 rise ! 
 
 They lay down the wife at her husband's side, 
 And one by one, round them, their children 
 
 sweet : 
 In life-time each other's treasure and pride, 
 Coldly and greetingless now they must meet. 
 But the time of the dead shall come, shall 
 
 come! 
 They shall stir, they shall wake, they shall 
 
 rise! 
 

 1 1 
 
 
 Yes! 
 
 The time of the dead shall come ! 
 come 
 
 Shall 
 
 When 
 
 Jesus appears in the rending skies 
 
 ! 
 
 No longer quiet, and cold, and dumb, 
 
 
 They 
 
 shall hear His voice, they shall wake 
 
 
 and rise ! 
 
 
 Yes! 
 
 the time of the dead shall come, 
 come ! 
 
 shall 
 
 They 
 
 shall stir, they shall wake, they 
 rise ! 
 
 shall 
 
 O, when I am laid with the silent and dead, 
 
 May 
 
 my spirit with Jesus its sojourn be 
 
 
 making: 
 
 
 Joyfully then shall I lift up my head, 
 
 
 In the solemn day of the final awaking. 
 
 
 For the time of the dead shall come, 
 
 shall 
 
 
 come ! 
 
 
 They 
 
 shall stir, they shall wake, they 
 rise! 
 
 shall 
 
12 
 
 (&omt to Wt I 
 
 Come to me, come to me, Jesus my Saviour ! 
 
 Come in the hours of anguish and grief! 
 Who, who beside Thee, can strengthen and 
 comfort me ? 
 
 Who, who beside Thee, can give me relief? 
 
 Come when temptations fiercely assail me ; 
 
 When faith and submission are ready to fail. 
 Gently reprove me, — strongly deliver me, — 
 
 O let Thy fainting child through Thee pre- 
 vail! 
 
 Come, when I wander. Come, O my Saviour ! 
 
 Pity, O pity me ! Save me from sin ! 
 Though I am perverse, wayward, rebellious, — 
 
 Finish the work in me, that Thou didst 
 begin ! 
 
13 
 
 $s it Sitt, 0r is it Storrofo ? 
 
 Is it sin, or is it sorrow, 
 
 Makes me thus so sore opprest ? 
 When shall some more bright to-morrow 
 
 Close this night of long unrest ? 
 
 Gone the light of early childhood, — 
 Gone youth's strong elastic power ; 
 
 Shall the calm repose of even 
 
 Soothe each long and sultry hour ? 
 
 Or must still, in grief and weakness, 
 
 Afternoon be sadly spent ; 
 While at best, in patient meekness, 
 
 'Neath the cross the heart is bent ? 
 
 Light of Life ! again outshining, — 
 Cheer the long, the toilsome way ; 
 
 Not in sorrow, not in pining, 
 Let me waste life's little day. 
 
 Powerless in myself, and stricken 
 Low as trusting souls can fall, 
 
 Come to heal, to soothe, to quicken : 
 Be my Peace, my Hope, my All ! 
 C 
 
«4 
 
 ^nir foe Irafoe axrt forsaken fim " 
 
 2 Chron. xiii. 10. 
 
 Ah ! these are days of wisdom, and perilously 
 
 bright 
 There float new schemes and systems before 
 
 our dazzled sight ! 
 The world is growing learned, and fain would 
 
 cast aside 
 All pure and simple lessons that flatter not 
 
 her pride. 
 But the Lord God of our fathers, lo, we have 
 
 not forsaken, 
 And our trust in His Inspired Word remaineth 
 
 yet unshaken. 
 
i5 
 
 " Lo, here is Christ ! " saith one. " Lo, there ! " 
 
 another cries, 
 * Behold the form you seek for, apart from 
 
 vain disguise ! 
 Pure type of human nature, calm and heroic 
 
 lord, 
 Who may be deeply honoured, but must not 
 
 be adored." 
 But the Saviour of our fathers, lo, we have 
 
 not forsaken, 
 And our trust in His Inspired Word remaineth 
 
 yet unshaken. 
 
 Ah, pleasant to our nature the sweet seductive 
 
 lies, 
 With which the great arch-tempter his work 
 
 of ruin plies ; 
 And as a form of glory to many he appears, 
 When, " Know that ye are gods," he whispers 
 
 in their ears. 
 But the Lord God of our fathers, lo, we have 
 
 not forsaken, 
 And our trust in His Inspired Word remaineth 
 
 yet unshaken. 
 
i6 
 
 u Peace ! Peace ! " the prophets mutter. But 
 soon across the skies 
 
 Black clouds, in quick succession, with angry- 
 import rise ; 
 
 Till from his proud rebellion man shall sub- 
 missive cease, 
 
 And own his need of Christ : what has he to 
 do with peace ? 
 
 But the Lord God of our fathers, lo, we have 
 not forsaken, 
 
 And our trust in His Inspired Word remaineth 
 yet unshaken. 
 
 We look indeed for glory, but deem not weary 
 
 earth 
 To such a consummation has power to give 
 
 birth ; 
 Nor deem we human skill avails to build a 
 
 tower to heaven : 
 Our only confidence is that the cross of Christ 
 
 has given. 
 For the Lord God of our fathers, lo, we have 
 
 not forsaken, 
 And our trust in His Inspired Word remaineth 
 
 yet unshaken. 
 
17 
 
 sat Mpn % throne/' 
 
 Rev. iv. 2. 
 
 When the shrill blast of war is heard, 
 
 And thrones like sapling trees are shaking ; 
 
 When peace, " like an affrighted bird," 
 Her flight away from earth is taking ; — 
 
 Know that a throne is set in heaven, 
 One sits upon the throne. 
 
 When there is wild confusion round, 
 Strange discord and perpetual din ; 
 
 When vexed with the sight and sound 
 Of suffering goodness, lordly sin, — 
 
 Know that a throne is set in heaven, 
 One sits upon the throne. 
 
i8 
 
 When some distressing, piercing strain, 
 Or maniac shout shall reach thine ear, 
 
 And thou discernest there is pain 
 
 In countless hearts thou canst not cheer, — 
 
 Know that a throne is set in heaven, 
 One sits upon the throne. 
 
 When weary of the ceaseless fight 
 
 With Satan and his angry host, 
 Or when the world, in fancied might, 
 
 A moment o'er the Church may boast, — 
 Know that a throne is set in heaven, 
 One sits upon the throne. 
 
 A skilful hand, divinely strong, 
 
 Guides the strange course of changeful years, 
 And it shall cause to cease, ere long, 
 
 All cause of misery and tears. 
 Know that a throne is set in heaven, 
 God sits upon the throne. 
 
19 
 
 $olb SM <Mg 
 
 Fold me gently ! gently, Saviour, 
 Under Thy protecting wing : 
 
 In the hour of grief and danger 
 Let me to Thy bosom cling. 
 
 I am weary, I am weak : 
 
 Jesus ! words of comfort speak. 
 
 O, the night is chill and gloomy, 
 And my languid spirits fail : 
 
 Draw Thou near me, and revive me, 
 Lest my unbelief prevail. 
 
 I am weary, I am weak : 
 
 Jesus ! words of comfort speak. 
 
 See the tempest driving o'er me ! 
 
 I can scarcely bear to hear 
 These loud pealings of the thunder 
 
 Sounding so distinct and near. 
 I am weary, I am weak : 
 Jesus ! words of comfort speak. 
 
20 
 
 Ah ! what do I now discover 
 Softly gleaming from afar ? 
 
 Some refulgent, glorious dwelling, 
 Brighter than the brightest star. 
 
 I am weary, I am weak : 
 
 Jesus ! words of comfort speak. 
 
 Can it be some sweet illusion ? 
 
 No ! Lord, 'tis Thy promise true ; 
 And to cheer Thy weary pilgrim, 
 
 Heaven itself appears in view. 
 I am weary, I am weak : 
 Thou dost words of comfort speak. 
 
 .Fold me gently ! gently, Saviour, 
 Under Thy protecting wing, 
 
 Till to yonder home prepar'd me, 
 Thou dost me in safety bring. 
 
 I am weary, I am weak : 
 
 Still Thy words of comfort speak. 
 
21 
 
 IfjerttSBleitt. 
 
 Our feet shall stand within thy gate, 
 
 Jerusalem! Jerusalem! 
 Though here awhile we lowly wait, 
 In poor and pilgrim-like estate, — 
 Soon shall we see thy splendour great, 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 
 Soon shall we hail, with joyful cry, 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 
 Thy bulwarks strong the foes defy ; 
 
 But to the sons of God most high, 
 
 Thy gates of pearl wide open fly, — 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 
 Soon shall we walk, arrayed in white, 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 

 22 
 
 Thine inner courts, whose radiant light, 
 For ever excellently bright, 
 Shall dazzle not our strengthened sight, 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 
 Soon shall we make thine utmost bound, 
 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 With songs of lofty praise resound 
 To Him, whose throne we shall surround,— 
 Thy King, with endless glory crowned, 
 Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 
23 
 
 *§Bvmb tax i\t %m$om. 
 
 I am bound for the kingdom ! Tempt ye not 
 
 My spirit to delay ; 
 In this wide world there's not a spot 
 
 Where I would wish to stay. 
 
 I am bound for the kingdom ! Hopes are mine 
 
 Brighter than all below ; 
 I go where the glorious angels shine, 
 
 And saints made perfect glow. 
 
 I go where is waving the ever-green, 
 
 And life-bestowing tree : 
 No flashing sword shall intervene 
 
 To bar its fruit from me. 
 
2 4 
 
 I go where every sound is sweet, 
 
 And every sight is fair ; 
 My longing heart and soul shall meet 
 
 Full satisfaction there. 
 
 I am bound for the kingdom ! Not a spot 
 
 On earth can tempt my stay ; 
 Ye friends beloved ! will ye not 
 
 With me too come away ? 
 
25 
 
 teflai 
 
 Yes ! Thou wilt give me victory ! 
 
 My God, I know Thou wilt ! 
 For, oh ! not vainly for me 
 
 Christ bore the load of guilt. 
 
 Though hard the fight and bitter, 
 Its end I cannot doubt ; 
 
 My light may sometimes flicker, 
 But shall not be put out. 
 
 I know that I shall conquer 
 My most besetting sin ; 
 
 Where greatest is the danger, 
 'Tis greatest joy to win. 
 
 Behold me, then, my Father, 
 Girding Thine armour on ; 
 
 And hasten to deliver, 
 
 Ere all my strength be gone. 
 D 
 
26 
 
 The hosts of hell oppress me, 
 They grieve and vex me sore ; 
 
 Yet, when they most distress me, 
 I will but trust Thee more. 
 
 For Christ hath led to glory 
 Full many a trembling saint ; 
 
 And He will never leave me 
 By the way-side to faint. 
 
27 
 
 %tt me fa ffl$mt 
 
 God ! the world is striving 
 To win my heart and life : 
 
 It woos me by its pleasures, 
 It awes me by its strife. 
 
 Sometimes its vain enticements 
 Allure my soul away ; 
 
 But oh ! let me be Thine, Lord, 
 And never from Thee stray. 
 
 1 am so weak and faithless ; 
 My heart is dull and cold, 
 
 And of eternal glories 
 It has but feeble hold. 
 
 I follow, how intensely ! 
 The interests of a day, 
 
 But oh ! let me be Thine, Lord, 
 And from Thee never stray. 
 
28 
 
 There are so many dangers, 
 
 So many snares around ; 
 Such various forms of evil 
 
 In this dark world abound ! 
 O, blot all vain impressions 
 
 From my poor soul away, 
 And, oh ! let me be Thine, Lord, 
 
 And from Thee never stray ! 
 
 In all that's sweet and pleasant 
 
 May I Thy mercy see; 
 Let all that's great and glorious 
 
 Remind my soul of Thee ; 
 And everything incite me 
 
 To praise Thee or to pray, 
 And so may I be Thine, Lord, 
 
 And from Thee never stray. 
 
 In all that's strange, — mysterious,- 
 May I Thy purpose trust ; 
 
 In all that's hard and painful, 
 Bow meekly to the dust, — 
 
2 9 
 
 And own Thou would'st not chasten, 
 
 Nor ever say me " Nay," 
 But that I might be Thine, Lord, 
 
 And from Thee never stray. 
 
 Vouchsafe to make me holy, 
 
 And keep me to the end ; 
 Still let my heart beat truly 
 
 To Thee, my heavenly Friend : 
 Until at last arises 
 
 The everlasting day, 
 And then I shall be Thine, Lord, 
 
 And from Thee never stray. 
 
3Q 
 
 t js|rall to j&atwM. 
 
 Jer. xxxi. 14. 
 
 We are willing to be weary, for yet a little 
 
 while, 
 And then we shall be gladdened with our 
 
 Saviour's smile. 
 We are willing now in sorrow the striken head 
 
 to hide, 
 For soon, — we cannot tell how soon, — we shall 
 
 be satisfied. 
 
 We are willing to be thirsty, for soon we shall 
 
 repose 
 Where the crystal stream of life flows on — 
 
 for ever flows. 
 We are willing to be tearful, for not far off 
 
 appears 
 The home where Christ shall wipe away the 
 
 trace of all our tears. 
 
3i 
 
 We are willing now to hear the storm, the 
 
 sound of beating rain, 
 For soon we'll be where never more shall 
 
 tempest come again. 
 We are willing now to struggle, to press and 
 
 labour on, 
 For soon the day, with all its toils and troubles, 
 
 will be gone. 
 
 We are willing now to meet and part in many 
 
 a changeful scene ; 
 Nor will we murmur when we lose some friend 
 
 on whom we lean. 
 In patience here with aching hearts we can 
 
 awhile abide, 
 For soon, — we cannot tell how soon, — we shall 
 
 be satisfied. 
 
 We are willing to lay down at last our bodies 
 
 in the grave, 
 For calm and sure our confidence in Him who 
 
 came to save. 
 Fair forms of strength and glory He will for 
 
 us provide, 
 And waking in His likeness, we shall be 
 
 satisfied. 
 
32 
 
 O, for the Holy Land ! where all is pure ; 
 Where all is perfect, and will so endure ; 
 Where all is glorious, and for ever fair, — 
 Since sin, that marreth, cannot enter there. 
 The Holy Land ! The Holy Land ! 
 
 O, for the Holy Land! where reigneth peace ; 
 Within whose borders all dissensions cease ; 
 Where hearts are purer than the summer skies, 
 And no dark clouds of doubt or envy rise. 
 The Holy Land ! The Holy Land ! 
 
 O, for the Holy Land ! where all is light, — 
 And glorious truth lies open to the sight ; 
 Where no thick mists the tree of life conceal; 
 Where we shall clearly know, and rightly feel. 
 The Holy Land ! The Holy Land ! 
 
33 
 
 O, for the Holy Land ! where all is true : 
 No withered leaves the path of heaven bestrew. 
 The links of love for ever there hold fast ; 
 The union there for evermore will last. 
 
 The Holy Land ! The Holy Land ! 
 
 My spirit thirsteth for the Holy Land : 
 It craves a place amongst that happy band, 
 Who, robed in righteousness, without a stain, 
 Exult to know they ne'er shall sin again. 
 
 The Holy Land ! The Holy Land ! 
 
34 
 
 
 Wo$t <§tfmtb. 
 
 
 Why tarry the wheels of His chariot ? 
 
 Can it be that He loves us not still ? 
 Is He weary of earth and its troubles ? 
 
 And worn out with the tale of our ill ? 
 
 Long, long ! — how long, has hope been 
 
 deferred : 
 Shall the cry of the sorrowful never be heard ? 
 
 Why tarry the wheels of His chariot ? 
 
 With the songs of His angels content, 
 Will He leave this far spot in its anguish, 
 
 Nor list to His people's lament ? 
 
 Long, long ! — how long, has hope been 
 
 deferred : 
 Shall the cry of the sorrowful never be heard ? 
 
 Why tarry the wheels of His 
 The shout of the wicked is 
 
 chariot ? 
 loud, 
 
35 
 
 And His name, meekly uttered in heaven, 
 Is mocked by the impious and proud. 
 
 Long, long, — Oh ! how long, has hope been 
 
 deferred : 
 Shall the cry of the sorrowful never be heard ? 
 
 Why tarry the wheels of His chariot ? 
 
 Dost thou ask, O lone bride, with a sigh ? 
 And cannot thy trustful affection 
 
 Provide a sufficient reply ? 
 
 Long, long ! — though so long, thy hopes are 
 
 deferred, 
 The cry of the sorrowful is not unheard ! 
 
 The wheels of His chariot linger, 
 That thine may the privilege be 
 
 To worship, while others dishonour, — 
 To trust, while thou yet canst not see. 
 
 Long, long ! — O how long, has hope been 
 
 deferred : 
 But thy tears are all counted, thy prayers 
 
 are all heard ! 
 
36 
 
 %\t f flritetf 8 f hit 
 
 Luke vii. 38. 
 
 Mine be the penitent's place, — 
 Low, Jesus, low at Thy feet! 
 
 Waiting Thy pardoning grace, 
 Waiting Thine accents sweet. 
 
 Mine be the penitent's place, 
 Mine be the penitent's tears, 
 
 While, with broken heart, I retrace 
 The sins of my bygone years. 
 
 Mine be the penitent's place, 
 Mine be the head bowed down : 
 
 For I have look'd on His face, — 
 I have look'd, and seen no frown. 
 
37 
 
 Mine be the penitent's place, 
 And mine the penitent's heart, 
 
 For the Saviour I embrace 
 With all that I have to part. 
 
 Mine be the penitent's place, — 
 Low, Jesus, low at Thy feet, 
 
 Till, by Thy wonderful grace, 
 For glory I am made meet. 
 
 Soon shall the penitent's place 
 Be at Thy right hand above, 
 
 With all Thy redeemed to trace 
 
 The heights and depths of Thy love. 
 
38 
 
 
 'Tis Jubilee ! 'Tis Jubilee ! 
 
 Ah, Christian, be not sad ! 
 Cast off the dust and ashes, — 
 
 In robes of praise be clad. 
 
 Arise ! and in the strength 
 Of Joy pursue thy course ; 
 
 Hope in the Lord thy God is health,- 
 Confiding trust is force. 
 
 O think not thou that Satan 
 
 His captive shall retain ; 
 For lo, beside thy feet, 
 
 Falls all unclasp'd his chain. 
 
39 
 
 The goodly land of grace 
 Before thee outstretched lies : 
 
 And shall the rich inheritance 
 Remain an unused prize ? 
 
 O God of Jubilee! Behold, 
 Our eyes are fix'd on Thee ! 
 
 Now let Thy happy children know 
 Their perfect liberty. 
 
4Q 
 
 Is it a long way off ? 
 
 Oh, no ! a few more years, — 
 
 A few more bitter tears, — 
 
 We shall be there. 
 Sometimes the way seems long 
 Our comforters all go : 
 Woe follows after woe, 
 
 Care after care. 
 
 Oh ! brethren dear, how weak,- 
 How faint and weak we are ! 
 Yet Jesus leads us far 
 
 Through tangled ways, 
 Into the very heart 
 Of this dark wilderness, 
 Where dangers thickest press, 
 
 And Satan strays. 
 
4i 
 
 But He is strong, and wise : 
 And we, His children blind, 
 Must trust His thoughtful mind 
 
 And tender care. 
 So gentle* is His love, 
 We may be sure that sight 
 Would show us all is right, 
 
 And answered prayer. 
 
 'Tis no uncertain way 
 We tread, for Jesus still 
 Leads, with unerring skill, 
 
 Where'er we roam ; 
 And from the desert wild 
 Soon shall our path emerge, 
 And land us on the verge 
 
 Of our dear home. 
 
42 
 
 
 ! mixta* ! 
 
 rap i mmgss i 
 
 Wings ! Wings ! 
 Joy within me springs : 
 Rapt imaginings 
 
 Bear my soul away ! 
 Fade, ye earthly things ! 
 Heaven a lustre flings 
 
 O'er my rising way. 
 
 Wings ! Wings ! 
 Round my gladdened soul 
 Clouds of glory roll, 
 
 Brighter far than snow. 
 Light is round me spread, 
 Paths of light I tread, — 
 
 Now with light I glow. 
 
43 
 
 \Vings ! Wings ! 
 Hark ! What strains I hear ! 
 Falls upon my ear 
 
 Seraph harmony ! — 
 Let me take my share ; 
 This celestial air 
 
 Is not new to me. 
 
 Wings ! Wings ! 
 Cords of earth are broken ! 
 Gates of heaven are open ! — 
 
 Now my soul is free. 
 Brightness of the glory ! 
 Jesus is before me ! — 
 
 Only Him I see. 
 
44 
 
 jm %\mp to § am*. 
 
 Church of God, so meekly bowing, 
 Pale and patient in thy weeds ! 
 
 O how vast are thy possessions, 
 Though how many are thy needs ! 
 
 Poor thou art, yet untold riches 
 Now thy secret path surround : 
 
 All the treasures of salvation 
 Freely for thy use abound. 
 
 Needy, yet thou ownest heaven : 
 Darling thou of heaven's Lord ! 
 
 Him in whom eternal glory 
 Concentrates, securely stored. 
 
 All that was, and is, and shall be : 
 All above, below, is thine ; 
 
 All the beauties of creation, — 
 All the works of might divine : 
 
45 
 
 All the brilliancy of heaven, 
 
 All the mysteries of earth, 
 All the deep unfathomed blessings, 
 
 Springing from the second birth : 
 
 All the longed-for revelations, 
 When has passed away the night, 
 
 And the judgments of the Father 
 Perfectly are brought to light : 
 
 All the dazzling maze of glory, 
 
 Which time's distant prospect lends : 
 
 All the unimagined gladness, 
 
 Which thy brightest hope transcends : 
 
 All the murmurs of the river 
 Ever flowing from the throne : 
 
 (Life unhindered, life eternal, 
 Is announced in every tone.) 
 
 These, O happy Church of Jesus, 
 Through His gift, are ever thine! 
 
 New created, as a temple 
 
 Strong, to hold its guest divine ! 
 
4 6 
 
 Come, O day of full salvation, 
 When the perfect Church shall be 
 
 One bright, conscious revelation 
 Of her God, eternally ! 
 
 Angel hosts, upon her gazing, 
 Varied glories shall discern, 
 
 And proclaim, with songs of rapture, 
 Every wonder they shall learn. 
 
 To the One great Self-Existent, 
 Church and angels then shall raise 
 
 One unbroken, one harmonious, 
 Everlasting hymn of praise. 
 
47 
 
 l0t fd. 
 
 It must not be ! Not yet 
 
 My home appears. 
 My cheeks must yet be wet 
 
 With many tears. 
 
 It must not be ! My task 
 
 Undone remains. 
 I must not feebly ask 
 
 To miss its pains. 
 
 Farewell, enticing dream 
 
 Of near repose 
 Beside the crystal stream, 
 
 That soothing flows ! 
 
 Welcome, a mingled life 
 
 Of gain and loss ; 
 Welcome, a noble strife, — 
 
 A blessed cross. 
 
4 8 
 
 For Jesus be it sweet 
 To work or pine. 
 
 Conflict, but not defeat, 
 Awhile be mine 
 
 Afar may be the rest, 
 
 But it is sure : 
 And meanwhile I am blest, 
 
 If I endure. 
 
49 
 
 D* Still, mg StoiiL 
 
 Be still, my soul ; — let nothing stir 
 
 Thee from the sweet repose 
 Of those who to their God refer 
 
 Their joys, their cares, their woes. 
 
 Be quiet ; — why this anxious heed 
 
 About thy tangled ways ? 
 God knows them all; 'tis He gives speed, 
 
 And He allows delays. 
 
 What though He let thee not perform 
 Some good and loved design ? 
 
 Thou wouldst not wish Him to conform 
 His perfect will to Thine ! 
 
 My God ! the hearing ear impart, 
 
 To hear Thee tell Thy will ; 
 And then bestow the ready heart, 
 
 All meekly to fulfil. 
 F 
 
So 
 
 Lines Translated from Latin. 
 
 Ah ! how delightsome 
 Must those Sabbaths be, 
 
 Kept by the choirs above 
 Eternally ! 
 
 To the weary what repose, 
 To the valiant what reward, 
 
 When all in all shall be 
 Jesus the Lord ! 
 
 Sabbaths on Sabbaths 
 
 Follow not there ; 
 One Sabbath shall be kept 
 
 Free from all care. 
 
 And the glad peals of song 
 
 Never shall end, 
 Wherein saints' and angels' 
 
 Voices shall blend. 
 
5i 
 
 % Calm. 
 
 Imitated from Goethe. 
 
 Upon each mountain crest 
 
 Is rest. 
 
 Hark ! not a breath 
 
 Murmureth : 
 
 The bird is silent in his nest. 
 
 Wait, wait, and thou too soon shalt rest. 
 
 Beyond each mountain crest 
 
 Is rest. 
 
 Nor is a sigh 
 
 E'er heard on high, 
 
 In the fair regions of the blest. 
 
 Wait, wait, and thou too there shalt rest. 
 
52 
 
 I long for heaven ! How I long to know 
 
 All that is dark and intricate below ! 
 
 My thoughts embarrassed often give me pain; 
 
 Perfection's summit would I could attain ! 
 One ray of true, celestial light, — 
 One glance of free, unhindered sight, — 
 And simple, natural and clear, 
 Plain, easy, open, will appear 
 The mysteries, that now distress 
 And vex my earthly littleness. 
 
 But when through mercy we shall reach our 
 
 home, 
 And fearlessly amid its glories roam, 
 Will not heights still above these heights 
 
 arise, 
 And mystery succeed to mysteries ? 
 
53 
 
 Yes, O my soul ! And therefore in the 
 
 dust, 
 Learn thou at last humility, and trust ! 
 Not power to sound (the thought were 
 
 blasphemy !) 
 The deep grand secrets of the Deity ; 
 Not might to scale the cloud-capp'd heights 
 
 of heaven ; 
 Not such the promise Jesus Christ has 
 
 given. 
 This is our glory, rightly understood, — 
 To know that all we do not know is good ! 
 And holding still by our dear Father's hand, 
 To look beyond the little point of land 
 Whereon, as finite beings, we must stand, 
 And say of all around, below, above, — 
 "'Tis good, 'tis perfect, 'tis the work of 
 
 love." 
 
54 
 
 All day and night, all night and day, 
 
 I long for Thee. 
 In joy or grief, O Lord my God, 
 
 Come Thou to me. 
 
 What is the world, and all its joys, 
 
 To one like me ? 
 It chafes and frets ; it palls and cloys ; 
 
 For I want Thee. 
 
 O what is ease, and what is wealth, 
 
 If I lack Thee ? 
 My soul's repose, my spirit's health, 
 
 Come Thou to me. 
 
55 
 
 With thirst intense, and holy pain, 
 
 I yearn for Thee. 
 O God in Christ, do not disdain 
 
 To come to me. 
 
 All day and night, all night and day, 
 
 Abide with me ; 
 For all my life, or long or brief, 
 
 I want but Thee. 
 
56 
 
 Lines suggested by two English Cemeteries abroad. 
 
 Why plant the cypress ! when so calm, 
 So peaceful is the Christian's grave ? 
 
 Ah ! should not the victorious palm 
 In token of their triumph wave ? 
 
 Or shall not trees of rich perfume 
 Bend o'er the resting-place of youth, 
 
 To show how pleasant was their bloom 
 Of love, and purity, and truth ? 
 
 To spots o'er which the angels bend, 
 With thoughts of resurrection day, 
 
 Might not fair oleanders lend 
 The beauty of a southern May ? 
 
 Or plant we trees in sombre line : 
 That when the mourners pass away, 
 
 Of their true grief a lasting sign, 
 
 These may, in long procession, stay ? 
 
57 
 
 Nay, 'tis not that the cypress shade 
 Spreads early darkness o'er the tomb, 
 
 And where the dearly-loved are laid 
 Preserve uninterrupted gloom : 
 
 We chose them not for this ; but more 
 Because they point to yon blue sky, 
 
 And hint, when earthly tasks are o'er, 
 Of rest in our dear home on high. 
 
 Fresh ever-verdant trees of life, 
 
 They circle round each " court of peace," 
 And every sight and sound of strife 
 
 Without their guardian rows must cease. 
 
 Then lay our dearly-lov'd ones down 
 Beneath the cypress, tenderly ; 
 
 But each shall wear a golden crown, 
 When next their lovely forms we see. 
 
58 
 
 WSLIgm is §t 
 
 Q 
 
 Where art Thou, Jesus ? In the far-off home 
 
 Where evermore the angels* songs resound ? 
 
 Shall we not see Thee till we burst the chains 
 
 By which our souls to this low earth are 
 bound ? 
 
 Where art Thou, Jesus ? In the deep recess 
 Of philosophic thought art Thou discerned ? 
 
 And is Thy name by care elaborate 
 And intellectual effort to be learned ? 
 
 What art Thou, Jesus, but a splendid dream, 
 
 Crowning conception of long-labouring 
 Time ? 
 
 A bright Ideal, towards which our hopes, 
 
 With strong ambition, evermore must climb? 
 
59 
 
 I ask the earth to tell me what Thou art ; 
 
 And she reveals Thee weary, faint, and pale, — 
 
 A Son of man ; and yet before Thy glance 
 
 I see the storms abate, the demons quail ! 
 
 »- 
 I ask the heavens to show me what Thou art : 
 
 And there I see Thee throned King of kings ; 
 
 Yet, a strange outline, mid th' excessive light, — 
 
 A Lamb once slain before my vision brings. 
 
 I bow before Thee, Jesus ! Son of God ! 
 
 All that lost man can need, I see Thou art. 
 And while Thy glory overspreads the world, 
 
 Behold, Thy dwelling is a contrite heart. 
 
6o 
 
 &tilxrtiott. 
 
 Seek patience, my soul, 
 When the billows o'er thee roll ; 
 'Tis those who, while they weep, 
 Their souls in patience keep, 
 Who win the day. 
 
 Learn to be meek, my heart ; 
 No longer fret and start, 
 Though like a target's centre 
 Where arrows thickly enter, 
 Thou mayest be. 
 
 0, holy Saviour ! Thou, 
 Who 'neath the cross didst bow ! 
 Lighten my bitter pain, 
 My drooping form sustain, 
 Lest I be crush'd. 
 
 Keep Thou before mine eye 
 How Thou didst bleed and die : 
 Show me Gethsemane. 
 Teach me to say with Thee, — 
 God's will be done ! 
 
6i 
 
 I should not mourn my passing youth 
 If I had spent it, Lord, for Thee ; 
 
 But ah, my coldness and untruth 
 Are oft a bitter grief to me ! 
 
 I do not mourn that mine are not 
 Some blessings I see others share ; 
 
 But would my soul had ne'er forgot 
 The joy of which it is an heir. 
 
 The friends so early called away, 
 I would not wish them here again ; 
 
 But would my heart had learnt to stay 
 More upon Thee, who dost remain. 
 
62 
 
 My years crowd sail, and pass away 
 
 Before me to eternity. 
 How poorly freighted, Lord, are they, 
 
 With proofs of love and faith in Thee ! 
 
 Oh ! give me now a purer zeal ; 
 
 In true contrition keep me low ; 
 And any warmth that I may feel 
 
 By patient effort may I show. 
 
 Then, when life's little day is o'er, 
 I shall not morn, — its conflct won. 
 
 The faithful servant asks no more 
 
 Then hear Thee say at last, " Well done ! " 
 
63 
 
 Rest, rest from anxious thought, 
 
 From pressing, hurrying care ! 
 
 Rest, here so vainly sought, 
 
 So richly furnish'd there. 
 
 Oh ! Saviour dear, how sweet 'twill be 
 
 To rest my weary head on Thee. 
 
 Peace, peace, a calm repose, 
 
 No shadows hov'ring still 
 
 Around, of coming w r oes : 
 
 Peace shall each bosom fill. 
 
 Oh ! Saviour dear, how sweet 'twill be 
 
 To be at peace, because with Thee. 
 
 Vigour and strength shall there 
 
 In mind and spirit reign, 
 
 No conflict then shall wear 
 
 Me with unceasing pain. 
 
 Oh ! Saviour dear, how sweet 'twill be 
 
 With perfect pow'rs to worship Thee. 
 
6 4 
 
 O child of God ! how glorious 
 E'en now thy lot appears ! 
 
 How happy, how victorious, 
 Even amid thy fears ! 
 
 Safe in thy Father's keeping, 
 None can thy soul destroy. 
 
 Thou'rt blessed in thy weeping, 
 And blessed in thy joy : 
 
 Thou'rt blessed in thy labour, 
 And blessed in thy rest, 
 
 And in each meek endeavour 
 To do thy Lords behest, — 
 
 And in thy daily sowing 
 The precious seeds of life, 
 
 And in thy frequent going 
 Through bitterness of strife. 
 
65 
 
 Some flowers still are springing 
 Around thy weary feet ; 
 
 Some angels, smiling, singing, 
 Like Jacob, Thou dost meet. 
 
 And many a dreaded morrow 
 Unfolds some sweet surprise. 
 
 Bright, through a path of sorrow 
 Thy path of blessing lies. 
 
 Then in a world of glory 
 
 At last it safely ends, 
 Where blessings lie before thee, 
 
 Which every hope transcends. 
 
66 
 
 Higher! higher! 
 
 Beckon me above ! 
 
 Heaven has my love ! 
 Let me rise to heaven ! 
 
 Shall I dwell in sin ! 
 
 I, whose life to win, 
 Thy life, Lord, was given ! 
 
 Higher! higher! 
 
 it gives me pain 
 
 Lingering to remain 
 Mid the things below ! 
 
 Saviour, speak with might ! 
 
 Bid the hosts of night 
 Let their captive go ! 
 
6; 
 
 Higher ! higher ! 
 
 Heights of holiness ! 
 
 Truer righteousness 
 Let me now attain ! 
 
 Quench these earthly fires, 
 
 Check these vain desires, 
 This vile self restrain. 
 
 Higher! higher! 
 
 Am I not an heir 
 
 Of glory ? and I bear 
 Jesus Christ, Thy name ! 
 
 Thy pure, holy mind ! 
 
 O by grace refined 
 May I have the same ! 
 
 Higher! higher! 
 
 Since so faint and slow, 
 Fluttering and low, 
 
 Ever is my flight, 
 
 Thou, O King of kings, 
 As on eagles' wings 
 
 Bear me up with might ! 
 
68 
 
 Higher ! higher ! 
 
 From each fowler's net, 
 
 Where I linger yet, 
 Let me break ere long ! 
 
 Trammelled then no more, 
 
 Upward shall I soar, 
 With triumphant song ! 
 
6g 
 
 In the still lone hours of night, 
 
 Why should I be afraid ? 
 God is my soul's bright light ; 
 
 My never-failing aid. 
 
 He notes each secret pain, 
 
 Each feeling of distress ; 
 The heart's quick beat, the mind's long 
 strain, 
 
 The spirit's weariness. 
 
 His eye of love is on me 
 
 Throughout each tardy hour : 
 He gently throws around me 
 
 The right arm of His power. 
 
7° 
 
 Should even death assail me, — 
 Last and mysterious foe, — 
 
 Since Jesus will not fail me, 
 Why should I dread the blow ? 
 
 Lord Jesus, as I am, 
 I rest my soul on Thee. 
 
 Take care of Thy weak lamb 
 Now, and eternally. 
 
7i 
 
 %\t life of jtity. 
 
 Translation from German. 
 
 There wanteth words to tell 
 How truly it is well 
 With those whose lives are given 
 Unto the Lord of heaven ! 
 
 Oft e'er their lips have parted, 
 Their prayers have upwards started, 
 And quickly reached the ear 
 Of Him who waits to hear. 
 
 They have their pastimes sweet, 
 Like children, at His feet; 
 And when the quick tears start, 
 They shed them on His heart. 
 
72 
 
 When weary, He will spread 
 For them a quiet bed ; 
 And He the watch will keep, 
 However long they sleep. 
 
 But, at the first faint ray 
 Of the eternal day, 
 Hell call, " Awake ! Arise ! " 
 And they shall ope their eyes. 
 
 What they shall then behold 
 E'en faith cannot unfold. 
 Methinks that they will seem 
 Like persons in a dream ! 
 
 
73 
 
 Translation. 
 
 My life is hid in Jesus, 
 
 And death shall be my gain : 
 I'll peacefully surrender 
 
 My soul to Him again. 
 
 I joyfully shall travel 
 
 Far, far from things below, 
 
 And to my Friend and Saviour 
 For endless sojourn go. 
 
 Lord, when my spirit trembles 
 E'en as a flickering light ; 
 
 When thickly gather round me 
 The shadows of the night, — 
 
 O then most softly, sweetly 
 May I in Thee repose: 
 
 Receive my fainting spirit, — 
 My wearied eyelids close. 
 H 
 
74 
 
 Ah ! Faith can sweetly, loudly sing ; 
 
 And Faith can gladly, boldly soar, 
 When tired Fancy drops her wing, 
 
 And ventures on no more ! 
 
 And Faith has colours far more bright 
 Then any Fancy dares to use : 
 
 Her pictures glow with heavenly light, 
 And ne'er their early beauty lose. 
 
 The noblest songs which Fancy sings 
 Are fragments of a loftier strain ; 
 
 They are but broken echoings 
 Of Faith, returning here again. 
 
 And sometimes Fancy's fairest dreams, 
 Like golden mists, the sky may hide 
 
 But Faith, with no uncertain gleams, 
 To heaven will directly guide. 
 
75 
 
 Hope on! Hope ever! Christian! 
 
 Better to hope than to fear ; 
 With a choice 'twixt smiling and weeping, 
 
 O why should we choose the tear ? 
 
 Hope on! Hope ever! Christian ! 
 
 The clouds will clear away. 
 The sun is sure to shine forth again, 
 
 And night must lead to the day. 
 
 Some things you fear may happen : 
 
 Your hopes are more secure ! 
 The boundless mercy of God, your Father, 
 
 In Christ, your Lord, is sure ! 
 
 Why should your heart grow dreary ? 
 
 Look up at Christ, so dear! 
 As the sun leaps out from the thick, dark 
 clouds, 
 
 Then hope will re-appear ! 
 
7 6 
 
 "Hope on ! Hope ever! Christian," 
 Whispers the voice of the Past : 
 
 "When my waves and billows went over you, 
 Think how Christ's love held you fast : " 
 
 " Hope on! Hope ever! Christian," 
 
 Chimes in the Present's voice : 
 " Countless favours I shower upon you ; 
 
 Love-laden being, rejoice!" 
 
 " Hope on ! Hope ever ! Christian," 
 
 Is the word the Future sends ! 
 The voices of all the saints in glory, 
 
 In the same sweet message blends. 
 
 Hope on ! Hope ever ! Christian ! 
 
 Let not thy light grow dim. 
 Hope on in thy God, thy Saviour! — 
 
 None hope in vain in Him! 
 
77 
 
 Jmpttmrt 
 
 The work is not yet done ! I feel that still 
 Unbroken is my pride, uncrushed my will. 
 Alas ! to tame the mighty power of sin, — 
 How sharp the pain, how keen the discipline. 
 
 " Tis more than I can bear ! " I oft complain ; 
 " Too great the agony, too sharp the pain ! 
 O, take thine hand from off me, — let me rest 
 Awhile in quiet in this rifled nest. 
 
 " My soul is weary of the bread of tears ! 
 How pleasant now the worldling's lot appears : 
 With dainty morsels is his table spread, 
 And soft as rose-leaves is his downy bed. 
 
 " But I must weep, and weep, while blow on blow, 
 Fainting and trembling, I must undergo. 
 I see no way to escape : fast bound I lie, 
 And from the appointed grief I cannot fly ! " 
 
78 
 
 Alas! what means this rash and wild complaint 
 Against God's merciful though stern restraint? 
 These chastenings show me I am not forgot: 
 To me He grants His children's blessed lot. 
 
 I bless Thee, Lord, that Thou dost not resign 
 For feeble moaning, restless prayer of mine, 
 Th' accomplishment of Thy so gracious will, 
 My future glory from my present ill. 
 
 I know Thou lovest me. Then, O, my God, 
 Withhold not from Thy child the needed rod ! 
 But if repeated sorrow be my lot, 
 The grace to bear it, O, refuse me not ! 
 
 
79 
 
 Christmas Dag in time of Sbanoto. 
 
 'Tis Christmas time ! and well the year should 
 
 close 
 With thoughts of Christ ; for here there is 
 
 repose 
 For aching hearts, aweary of their woes. 
 Christ, Christ is rest ! 
 
 Cease then, my spirit, thy too long repining ; 
 No more thy hopes round earthly things en- 
 twining : 
 Taste perfect peace, in Jesus Christ reclining. 
 Christ, Christ is rest ! 
 
 With Thee, Redeemer, would I close the year, 
 Whose hand has wiped off many a scalding 
 
 tear; 
 Whose voice has banished many a rising fear. 
 Christ, Christ is rest ! 
 
8o 
 
 O, Christ, my Lord, I leave my past with Thee, 
 And now go forth with tranquil heart and free 
 To meet the future, knowing Thou wilt be 
 Always my rest. 
 
 And when the little year of life shall fail, 
 And wintry death shall leave me cold and pale, 
 My soul shall bid heaven's long new year "All 
 Hail!" 
 
 And with Thee rest. 
 
8i 
 
 t plaint 
 
 A TRANSLATION. 
 
 I knocked at a dwelling of lordly state, 
 But no one opened the lofty gate. 
 
 I knocked at the hall of the great and wise ; 
 
 But I shrank from the haughty glance of their 
 eyes. 
 
 I knocked at a massive palace of gold, 
 But its glittering portals would not unfold. 
 
 I knocked at a warm beating heart like mine ; 
 But fast closed and barred was the holy shrine. 
 
 I knocked at the portals dark of the tomb, 
 But fled appalled from the deepening gloom. 
 
82 
 
 Weary footed, with lingering pace, 
 I sought the Saviour's dwelling-place. 
 
 The gates of mercy were soon opened wide. 
 In the love of God I will ever abide. 
 
 Ye footsore wanderers, worn and sad, 
 Come hither, and Christ will make you glad, 
 
83 
 
 Ecce mundus turbat, quid si tranquilhis esset. — Augustine. 
 
 BY THE REV H. BONAR. 
 
 Trust not these seas again, 
 Though smooth and fair ; 
 
 Trust not these waves again, 
 Shipwreck is there. 
 
 Trust not these stars again, 
 Though bright and fair ; 
 
 Trust not these skies again, 
 Tempest is there. 
 
 Trust not that breeze again, 
 
 Gentle and fair ; 
 Trust not those clouds again, 
 
 Lightning is there. 
 
8 4 
 
 Trust not that isle again, 
 Flower-crowned and fair ; 
 
 Trust not its rocks again, 
 Earthquake is there. 
 
 Trust not these flowers again, 
 
 Fragrant and fair ; 
 Trust not that rose again, 
 
 Blighting is there. 
 
 Trust not that earth again, 
 
 Verdant and fair ; 
 Trust not its fields again, 
 
 Winter is there. 
 
 Trust not these hopes again, 
 
 Sunny and fair ; 
 Trust not that smile again, 
 
 Peril is there. 
 
85 
 
 Trust not this world again, 
 
 Smiling and fair; 
 Trust not its sweets again, 
 
 Wormwood is there. 
 
 Trust not its love again, 
 Sparkling and fair ; 
 
 Trust not its joys again, 
 Sorrow is there. 
 
86 
 
 Ifa giaaqpritttmettt. 
 
 u Return wito thy rest, O my soul I" 
 
 Trust in thy Lord again, 
 Though all be dark. 
 
 Trust Him to come again, 
 And save thy bark. 
 
 Trust in His light again, — 
 
 Day Star so fair ! 
 Trust those dark skies again, 
 
 Morn will break there. 
 
 Trust in God's grace again; 
 
 Mighty its breath. 
 Trust it to wake again 
 
 Spirits from death. 
 
 Trust in that isle again, — 
 Sweet isle of peace ; 
 
 Where thou shalt rest again, 
 When thy doubts cease. 
 
87 
 
 Trust in those flowers again, 
 Earnests of heaven ; 
 
 Grasp in thy hand again 
 All mercies given. 
 
 Trust thou in heaven again, 
 Beauteous and pure ; 
 
 Trust in its joys again, 
 Ever secure. 
 
 Trust all these hopes again,- 
 
 Sunny and fair; 
 Trust Jesu's smile again, — 
 
 Safety is there. 
 
 Trust in His bride again, — 
 Timid but true. 
 
 Trust His dear saints again- 
 Faithful though few. 
 
 Trust in His love again, — 
 
 Stedfast and fair. 
 Trust in His cross again, — 
 
 Gladness is there. 
 
88 
 
 
 Without a care, without a fear, 
 In Thee, O Father God, I rest ! 
 
 And scarce repress a rising tear, — 
 By such deep happiness opprest. 
 
 O ! this is joy, — to walk with Thee, 
 To lean confiding on Thine arm, 
 
 Which day and night encircling me, 
 Keeps far away all kind of harm. 
 
 'Tis not that I have done with grief,- 
 Sorrow and conflict oft are mine : 
 
 But I have found such sweet relief 
 In this eternal love of Thine ! 
 
8 9 
 
 The ships that in safe havens lie, 
 Little the driving tempest feel, 
 
 And as the wild wind hurries by, 
 Each rocks securely on her keel. 
 
 So in Thy love, O Lord my God, 
 
 I ever peacefully abide ; 
 And when dark trouble is abroad, 
 
 Within Thy full compassion hide. 
 
 Thus sweetly do I pass the night, 
 
 And through the darkness trace Thy form ; 
 
 But still look out for morning light, 
 And the deep hushing of the storm. 
 
go 
 
 %\t jfhial Rutins. 
 
 Soon we shall all go to Christ, though how 
 or when we know not : 
 
 Soon we shall all go to Him, and see Him 
 in His beauty. 
 
 Then shall He give us back again the gems 
 we trusted to Him, — 
 
 The dear ones whom we loved so well, yet 
 loved so foolishly ; 
 
 Forgetting that He loved them far, — yes, bet- 
 ter far, than we did ; 
 
 And that He loves us better far, — yes, better 
 
 far than they did. 
 He shall restore each one the same, — and yet 
 
 how different ! 
 Brighter than any vision which fancy ever 
 
 pictured, 
 
9i 
 
 And radiant with the sunshine of everlasting 
 
 glory,— 
 Yet shall be themselves, their own sweet selves, 
 
 exactly. 
 Eye shall meet eye in smiles, as once in bitter 
 
 weeping ; 
 Hand shall clasp hand in joy, which last were 
 
 wrung in parting. 
 And Christ shall look upon us, rejoicing in 
 
 our gladness, 
 And say, as once He said of old, — "Behold, 
 
 they are my brethren ! " 
 
9 2 
 
 
 f pm fax a §0tm0 § wra. 
 
 My God ! a thousand snares unite 
 My inexperienced soul to invite 
 
 Away from Thee : 
 Yet would I fain refuse them all. 
 To Thee most earnestly I call, — 
 
 My portion be ! 
 
 O I am young, and very weak : 
 
 E'en while the words of prayer I speak, 
 
 In thought I sin. 
 And how shall I, poor child, oppose 
 The numberless and mighty foes 
 
 Without, — within ? 
 
 O Thou to whom from early years 
 My heart has risen, with prayers and tears, 
 Do not Thou leave 
 
93 
 
 Thy little one, — though oft, alas ! 
 As through this giddy world I pass, 
 Thy love I grieve. 
 
 Still childlike may I be to Thee ! 
 My Father, Guide, and Teacher be ; 
 
 And lead me on 
 To that safe, happy home above, 
 Whither so many that I love 
 
 Have early gone ! 
 
94 
 
 Swift and bright, as a shooting star, 
 
 would my life might be ; 
 Now here, now vanishing afar, 
 
 To worlds we cannot see. 
 
 But, oh ! — unlike the shooting star, — 
 
 1 would leave some track behind, 
 By which a weary traveller 
 
 The homeward way might find. 
 
 Swift and straight, as an arrow sent 
 By a skill'd and skilful hand ; 
 
 So would my eager course were bent 
 Towards the Heavenly Land. 
 
95 
 
 But, oh ! — unlike the arrow keen, — 
 I would not wound nor pain ; 
 
 But, with serene and loving mien, 
 Some souls from ruin gain. 
 
 Swift and fair, as a Southern spring, 
 
 would my life might be ! 
 
 The glorious flowers, in a few short hours, 
 Unfold so lovelily ! 
 
 But, oh ! — unlike the flowers bright, — 
 
 1 would not fail nor fade ; 
 
 But in robes of white and dazzling light 
 For ever be arrayed. 
 
 And as the lark, with song so sweet, 
 
 Mounts to the skies above ; 
 Would that my soul might rise, and greet 
 
 Her longed-for Home above. 
 
9 6 
 
 But, oh ! — unlike the wearied lark, — 
 
 I'd not return again, 
 To find a home here, cold and dark, 
 
 But there above remain. 
 
 Above ! above ! where all is pure, 
 There would I be : there sing, 
 
 Praise, praise, to God, for evermore, 
 Praise, praise, to Christ, our King ! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 London : William Hunt &> Company. 
 
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