Oh! I seem to stand Trembling, where foot of mortal ne'er hath been, Wrapp'd in the radiance of Thy sinless land, Which eye hath never seen. Visions come and go; Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng; From angel lips I seem to hear the flow Of soft and holy song. It is nothing now, When heaven is opening on my sightless eyes, In a purer clime, My being fills with rapture-waves of thought Roll in upon my spirit-strains sublime Break over me unsought. Give me now my lyre! I feel the stirrings of a gift divine; Within my bosom glows unearthly fire, Lit by no skill of mine. Trust. OMMIT thou all thy griefs To His sure truth and tender care, Who points the clouds their course, Put thou thy trust in God, Fix on His word thy steadfast eye, So shall thy work be done. No profit canst thou gain By self-consuming care; To Him commend thy cause, His ear Attends the softest prayer. Give to the winds thy fears; Hope, and be undismayed; God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears; Through waves, and clouds, and storms, Wait thou his time-thy darkest night Shall end in brightest day. Luther. A Valediction. OD be with thee my beloved,-God be with thee! Thy face unto the north Moor and pleasance, all around thee and beneath thee, Looking equal in one snow! While I who try to reach thee, Vainly follow, vainly follow, Alas! I can but teach thee God be with thee my beloved,-God be with thee! Can I teach thee my beloved-can I teach thee? The counsel would be light,— The wisdom poor of all that could enrich thee, My right would shew like left; My raising would depress thee, My choice of light would blind thee,— Of way, would lead behind thee,— Of end, would leave bereft. Alas! I can but bless thee— May God teach thee my beloved,—may God teach thee! Can I bless thee my beloved,-can I bless thee? What blessing word can I From my own tears, keep dry? [thee? What flowers grow in my field where with to dress My good reverts to ill; My calmnesses would move thee,— Alas! I can but love thee May God bless thee my beloved,-may God bless thee! Can I love thee my beloved,-can I love thee? With no help in my hand, When strong as death I fain would watch above thee? My love-kiss can deny No tear that falls beneath it: My oath of love can swear thee And I,-I can but die! May God love thee my beloved,—may God love thee! E. B. Browning. Abide with me. BIDE with me: fast falls the eventide; Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Change and decay in all around I see: Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word, Come not to sojourn, but abide with me; Come not in terrors, as the King of kings, I need Thy presence every passing hour,- I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless : Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes, |