CONSOLATIONS. But Hope hath left thee too, 'Mid many griefs, and comforts all too few. Think not her angel-presence is confined 247 To earth; but seek the helps which God hath given To aid thy feeble sight, and through the heaven See where she soars, bright as the star of even. Then seek, and thou shalt find. Dost thou seek Peace, and where? 'Mong thine own withered hopes? She is not there. Nor in the depths of thine own darkened mind. Lay thy heart open to the infant's mirth, Send the bright hopes of others from their birth, Look round for all that 's beautiful on earth. Seek Peace, and thou shalt find. Seek Peace and Hope and Rest: And as the eagle flutters o'er her nest,* And bears her young, all trembling, weak, and blind, Up to heaven-gate on her triumphant wing,– * Deuteronomy xxxii. 11. PARAPHRASE OF PSALM XXII. H. K. WHITE. My God, my God, O why dost thou forsake me? The beam of morning witnesses my sighing, Our fathers were released from grief and pain. To thee they cried, and thou didst hear their wailing, On thee they trusted, and their trust was sure; But I, poor, lost, and wretched son of failing, I, without hope, must scorn and hate endure. Me they revile; with many ills molested, They bid me seek of thee, O Lord, redress: On God, they say, his hope and trust he rested, Let God relieve him in his deep distress. To me, Almighty, in thy mercy shining, ope; "TO WHOM SHALL WE GO?" 249 And, softly on my mother's lap reclining, Breathed through my breast the lively soul of hope. Even from the womb, thou art my God, my Father! Aid me, now trouble weighs me to the ground: Me heavy ills have worn, and, faint and feeble, The bulls of Bashan have beset me round. My heart is melted, and my soul is weary; The wicked ones have pierced my hands and feet! Lord, let thy influence cheer my bosom dreary: My help! my strength! let me thy presence greet! Save me! O, save me! from the sword dividing, Give me my darling from the jaws of death! Thee will I praise, and, in thy name confiding, Proclaim thy mercies with my latest breath. "TO WHOM SHALL WE GO?" MRS. E. L. FOLLEN. WHEN our purest delights are nipt in the blossom, When those we love best are laid low, When grief plants in secret her thorns in the bosom, Deserted, "to whom shall we go?" When error bewilders, and our path becomes dreary, And tears of despondency flow; When the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is weary, Despairing, "to whom shall we go?" When the sad, thirsty spirit turns from the springs Of enchantment this life can bestow, And sighs for another, and flutters its wings, Impatient, "to whom shall we go?" O blest be that light which has parted the clouds, A path to the pilgrim to show, That pierces the veil which the future enshrouds, And shows us to whom we may go. A PRAYER. R. M. MILNES. EVIL, every living hour, A PRAYER. Hearts that hope will not refresh,- Tyranny's strong breath is tainting Pleasures night and day are hovering Now no more in tuneful motion 251 |