Eternal Lord-I hail The Night no more; For where thou art there is no night, Teach me in love to hail Of thy perfections, oft impress'd Teach me in faith to hail The soul on eagle's wings afar, W. MARTIN. "YE ARE BORN OF LOVE." OH! God, the bright effulgence of thy love Perfect and holy union, Forming an eternal, happy whole To the pure spirits in their purest glow Delightful friendship, sainted virtue, is; Their thoughts true witnesses. Indwelling, but yet circumscribing all, Thy light and love are present-and when felt, The husks of this gross being fall, And the fierce carnal passions melt. God lives within us-we in him; And worlds are but as dross, and suns grow dim. Then we arise in a new atmosphere, And glory that would dazzle, now becomes Our vital air-all bright, all clear The doubts and darkness-God illumes The soul, the sense, the universe of mind, And being is within His brighter being shrined. W. MARTIN. PREPARATION. SUPREME High-Priest, the pilgrim's light, My heart for thee prepare; Thine image stamp, and deeply write Thy superscription there : Ah, let my forehead bear thy seal, My arm thy badge retain, My heart the inward witness feel Into thy humble mansion come, Ah, give me, Lord, the single eye, O that the penetrating sight, That with the armies of the sky Add, Saviour, to the eagle's eye, TOPLADY. GOD THE INSCRUTABLE. FATHER Eternal, when I think of thee The blaze of thy Divinity, Too much for poor humanity, Makes vain Thought a shade; The mind o'erpower'd with glory shrinks- Yet though my Spirit seems in glory lost, Cannot be scann'd, or measured, and a host Yet thy diviner Love upon my heart As the sweet evening sun-beam doth impart Yes, though my soul in thy Light still may blench, Yet in thy Love H I languish, and my fiery longings quench, I soar on wings of wondering ecstasy, W. MARTIN. RISE, MY SOUL. RISE, my soul, and stretch thy wings, Toward heaven thy native place. Time shall soon this earth remove; Rise, my soul, and haste away Rivers to the ocean run, Nor stay in all their course; Pants to view his glorious face; Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn, Soon the Saviour will return Triumphant in the skies. IN JOY OR SORROW LET US PRAY. Yet a season, and you know And earth exchanged for heaven. MADAN. IN JOY OR SORROW LET US PRAY. WHEN joyfully and merrily Like blithe young morning birds upon For do not this false earth's delights, Scathe the young breast as fiercely as When stormily and wrathfully Of tumult, let me flee Unto thy throne, thou faithful One, 99 |