Let the world despise and leave me :
They have left my Saviour too.
Human hearts and looks deceive me :
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
And whilst thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,
Foes may hate, and friends disown me;
Show thy face, and all is bright.
Man may trouble and distress me,
'Twill but drive me to thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest;
O'tis not in grief to harm me,
While thy love is left to me;
O'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmixed with thee.
Soul! then, know thy full salvation;
Rise o'er sin and fear and care;
Joy to find, in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee:
What a Father's smiles are thine;
What a Saviour died to win thee:
Child of heaven, canst thou repine ?
Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith and winged by prayer: Heaven's eternal day's before thee: God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thine earthly mission:
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days:
Hope shall change to full fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
THE SIGNET RING OF PEACE.
Mrs. Sigourney.
MOUNTAIN! that first received the foot of man,
Giving him shelter when the shoreless flood
That whelm'd a buried world went surging by,
I see thee in thy lonely grandeur rise;
I see the white-hair'd Patriarch, as he knelt
Beside his earthen altar 'mid his sons,
While beat in praise the only pulse of life
Upon this buried planet.-O'er the gorged
And furrow'd soil swept forth a numerous train,
Horned, or cloven-footed, fierce or tame,
While, mix'd with song, the sound of countless wings,
His rescued prisoners, fanned the ambient air.
The sun drew near his setting, clothed in gold;
But on the Patriarch, ere from prayer he rose,
A darkly-cinctured cloud chill tears had wept,
And rain-drops lay upon his silver hairs.
Then burst an arch of wondrous radiance forth,
Spanning the vaulted skies. Its mystic scroll
Proclaim'd the amnesty that pitying heaven
Granted to earth, all desolate and void.
Oh signet-ring! with which the Almighty seal'd
His treaty with the remnant of the clay
That shrank before him, to remotest time
Stamp wisdom on the souls that turn to thee.
Sublime Instructor! who four thousand years
Hast ne'er withheld thy lesson, but unfurl'd,
As shower and sunbeam bade, thy glorious scroll,
Oft, 'mid the summer's day, I musing sit
At my lone casement, to be taught of thee.
Born of the tear-drop and the smile, methinks
Thou hast affinity with man, for such
His elements and pilgrimage below.
Our span of strength and beauty fades like thine,
Yet stays its fabric on eternal truth
The wild floods may come,
The everlasting fountains burst their bounds,
The exploring dove without a leaf return,
Yea, the fires glow that melt the solid rock,
And earth be wreck'd: What then? Be still, my soul;
Enter thine ark; God's promise cannot fail;
For surely as yon rainbow tints the cloud,
His truth, thine Ararat, will shelter thee.
"THE BOW SHALL BE SEEN IN THE CLOUD, AND I WILL REMEMBER MY COVENANT." Veury Vanghan.
STILL young and fine! but what is still in view We slight as old and soiled, though fresh and new; How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye Thy burning, flaming arch did first descry;
When Nahor, Terah, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's grey fathers in one knot,
Did with intentive looks watch every hour
For thy new light, and trembled at each shower.
When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and fair,
Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air;
Rain gently spends his honey drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine! the sure tie
Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye!
When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see Him
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and one.
ALMIGHTY King, whose wondrous hand
Supports the weight of sea and land;
Whose grace is such a boundless store,
No heart in vain shall sigh for more.
Thy providence supplies my food,
And 'tis thy blessing makes it good:
My soul is nourished by thy word:
Let soul and body praise the Lord.
My streams of outward comfort came
From Him who built this earthly frame:
Whate'er I need, His bounty gives
By whom my soul for ever lives.
Either his hand preserves from pain,
Or, if I suffer, heals again;
From Satan's malice shields my breast,
Or overrules it for the best.
song that falls so low
Beneath the gratitude I owe;
It means Thy praise, however poor:
An angel's song can do no more.
TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest !
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,”
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
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