GIVE WORDS, kind words, to those who err; Remorse much needs a comforter.
Though in temptation's wiles they fall, Condemn not-we are sinners all.
With the sweet charity of speech,
Give words that heal, and words that teach.
GIVE THOUGHT, give energy, to themes That perish not like folly's dreams. Hark! from the islands of the sea, The missionary cries to thee: To aid him on a heathen soil,
Give thoughts, give energy, give toil.
"TELL me a story-please," my little girl
Lisped from her cradle. So I bent me down, And told her how it rained, and rained, and rained, Till all the flowers were covered, and the trees Hid their tall heads, and where the houses stood, And people dwelt, a fearful deluge rolled; Because the world was wicked, and refused To heed the works of God. But one good man, Who long had warned the wicked to repent, Obey, and live, taught by the voice of Heaven, Had built an ark; and thither, with his wife
And children, turned for safety. Two and two Of beasts and birds, and creeping things, he took With food for all; and when the tempest roared, And the great fountains of the sky poured out A ceaseless flood, till all beside were drowned, They in their quiet vessel dwelt secure. And so the mighty waters bare them up, And o'er the bosom of the deep they sailed For many days. But then a gentle dove 'Scaped from the casement of the ark, and spread Her lonely pinion o'er that boundless wave. All, all was desolation. Chirping nest, Nor face of man, nor living thing she saw, For all the people of the earth were drowned, Because of disobedience. Nought she spied Save wide, dark waters, and a frowning sky, Nor found her weary foot a place of rest. So, with a leaf of olive in her mouth, Sole fruit of her drear voyage, which, perchance, Upon some wrecking billow floated by,
With drooping wing the peaceful ark she sought. The righteous man that wandering dove received, And to her mate restored, who, with sad moans, Had wondered at her absence.
Upon the child, to see if her young thought Wearied with following mine. But her blue eye Was a glad listener, and the eager breath Of pleased attention curled her parted lip. And so I told her how the waters dried,
And the green branches waved, and the sweet buds
in loveliness, and that meek dove
Went forth to build her nest, while thousand birds Awoke their songs of praise, and the tired ark, Upon the breezy breast of Ararat
Reposed, and Noah, with glad spirit, reared
When to her rest, ere evening's earliest star, That little one is laid, with earnest tone, And pure cheek prest to mine, she fondly asks "The Ark and Dove."
Mothers can tell how oft,
In the heart's eloquence, the prayer goes up From a sealed lip: and tenderly hath blent With the warm teaching of the sacred tale A voiceless wish, that when the timid soul, New in the rosy mesh of infancy,
Fast bound, shall dare the billows of the world, Like that exploring Dove, and find no rest, A pierced, a pitying, a redeeming Hand, May gently guide it to the Ark of Peace.
THIS WORLD A MERE BUBBLE.
My soul, what's lighter than a feather? Wind. Than wind? The fire. And what than fire ? the mind. What's lighter than the mind? A thought. Than thought?
This bubble world. What, than this bubble? Nought.
FRIEND after friend departs: Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end; Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Beyond the flight of time—
Beyond the reign of death- There surely is some blessed clime, Where life is not a breath; Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upwards and expire.
There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown; A long eternity of love,
Formed for the good alone. And Faith beholds the dying here Translated to that glorious sphere!
Thus star by star declines, Till all are passed away;
As morning high and higher shines, To pure and perfect day:
Nor sink those stars in empty night,
But hide themselves in Heaven's own light.
REJOICING IN HOPE. Beddome.
CHILDREN of the heavenly King, As ye journey, sweetly sing; Sing your Saviour's worthy praise, Glorious in his works and ways.
Ye are travelling home to God, In the way the fathers trod; They are happy now, and ye Soon their happiness shall see.
Shout, ye little flock, and blest! You on Jesus' throne shall rest; There your seat is now prepared, There your kingdom and reward. Lord, submissive make us go, Gladly leaving all below; Only thou our leader be,
And we still will follow thee!
OH! softly, sweetly, gently as the veil
Of moonlight brightens while it shades the scene, Death touched his frame ! and there his features lay, Mildly reposing in the open air,
Unvexed, unwrinkled-like a steady lake,
When winds and storms have rocked themselves to
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