Hands, love-clasped through charméd hours, Feet that press the bruiséd flowers, Is there aught for you to dare That ye may His fignet bear? Free from ftruggle, care, and strife, But when chaftening ftripes descend, Bleffed tears flow warm and free, even me. Pomp and ease, and praise of men, By the agony and pain. Let not suffering barren prove ; Of the dark and sullen pain, Where nor love nor good doth live, In the little islet Time Standing on the floping brink, Chriftian Mirror. DE EEM not that they are bleft alone Whose days a peaceful tenor keep; The God who loves our race has shown A bleffing for the eyes that weep. The light of smiles fhall fill again. O, there are days of hope and rest And thou who o'er thy friend's low bier Nor let the good man's truft depart, For God hath marked each anguished day, For all His children suffer here. Wm. C. Bryant. ATHER, when o'er our trembling hearts FA Doubt's fhadows gathering brood, When faith in Thee almoft departs, And gloomieft fears intrude, Forsake us not, O God of grace, Grant us again to see Thy face; When sorrow comes, and joys are flown, And bleffings, long efteemed our own, When the bright promise of our spring Is but a withered leaf, Lord, to thy truths ftill let us cling; And when the powers of nature fail Nor love nor friendship can avail Then, Father, be our clofing eyes And if a trembling doubt arise, Rev. S. G. Bulfinch. 5 THE REQUEST. THOU who didft deny to me This world's adored felicity, And every big, imperious luft, Which fools admire in finful duft Their bundles of foul gallantry, Keep ftill my weak eyes from the shine When Thou art there, crowning their heads Made of the Comforter's live fire. And when Thy goodness, in the dress Of anger, will not seem to bless, Yet doft Thou give them that rich rain, 'Twixt Thy great self and such poor grass! |