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"No sound on the moorland to guide him,
No star in the murky air; And he thinks of his home and his loved ones
With the tenderness of despair;
Then kneel in the silent chapel
"Yet, leave him alone to perish,
And the grace of your God implore, With all the strength of your spirit,
For one who needs it more. Far away, in the gleaming city,
Amid perfume, and song, and light, A soul that Jesus has ransomed
Is in peril of sin to-night.
The Tempter is close beside him,
And his danger is all forgot, And the far-off voices of childhood
Call aloud, but he hears them not; He sayeth no prayer, and his mother—
He thinks not of her to-day,
And his Angel is turning away.
"Then pray for a soul in peril,
A soul for which Jesus died; Ask, by the cross that bore Him,
And by her who stood beside; And the Angels of God will thank you,
And bend from their thrones of light, To tell you that Heaven rejoices
At the deed you have done to-night." SPRING.
ARK! the Hours are softly calling, Bidding Spring arise,
On her charmed way;
Scarcely yet begun;
It should all be done.
From its iron chain;
Green and bright again;
And let the snowdrop's trembling whiteness
See the light of day.
Every blade of green;
From the earth is seen;
From her hidden store;
Each day more and more.
Cowslips sweet to set;
With bright dewdrops wet,
Hide a Violet!
Must be decked anew
Should be peeping through,
Leaf by leaf beside,
And the Autumn's pride.
She must weave the loveliest carpets,
Chequered sun and shade,
Laid in every glade;
On each arched bough ;—
Should be waving now;
At her breath away;
With the scent of May!
On thy charmed way;
Wearying for the day.
From the cloudy skies; Listen to the hours calling,
Bidding thee arise.