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FEY WILL BE DONE, nor MINE.
“ And He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee; take away this cup from Me: nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt.” . . .
MARK XIV. S
Thy will not mine, how great soe'er my crosses,
Patient I'll bear what Thy word doth ordain-
Then shall Thy will be done, and mine.
YKE MINSTRELØY OF EARTH.*
“ And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand : so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.” . . . . 1 SAMUEL xvi. 23.
THE MINSTRELSY OF EARTH.
And raise the thoughts of triflers
From earth to the blue sky, And bend their souls in worship
Of Him who reigns on high. 0, soft Æolian sighings!
O, cataracts' ceaseless roar! 0, chimes from the old belfry
Of gray cathedral hoar !
Across the waving corn! 0, whispers of the forest!
0, Switzer's mountain horn! O, winds' funereal dirges
O’er ocean's moaning face! 0, earthquake's crash stupendous !
0, thunder's awful bass ! 0, splashing of the fountain !
O, humming of the bee ! 0, wailing of the tempest!
O, sobbing of the sea !
From many a leafy nest !
From sympathizing breast ! 0, ringing laugh of childhood !
0, strains of lute and lyre! 0, deep, majestic organ !
0, church's human choir ! Your lighter sounds are soothing
Like some soft hallowed spell
Befits its sadness well!
Is poured a healing balm,
Ye breathe a blessed calm :
Inspire man's heart and voice, And bid him glorify his God
And evermore rejoice,
Of every blessed sound
From earth's remotest bound.
Bring all your several parts-
Ye Handels and Mozarts !
O’er every shore and sea,
Ye praise the glorious Three !
Che WOOER AND Cke WOOED.
“My Beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, My love, My fair one, and come away.” —Song of Sol. 11. 10.
Rise, My love, and come away ;
Here my life is bright and gay:
I can give thee far away;
Odious are Thy grave advances :
Quit thy gaudy, showy toys;
What then are Thy lasting joys ?
Life with Me is joy unending :
Pure and unalloyed and free,
When thou gav'st thy love to Me;
Of Mine own great love for thee.”
YKE TINE AND YKE BRARCE.
“I am the true Vine, and my Father is the Husbandman. Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit He taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it that it may bring forth more fruit." . . . . John xv. 1, 2.
Laden with bunches full and ripe, acceptable to Thee;
Bunches that are no shame to Thee, the true and only Vine."
“Would'st thou a branch more fruitful be with glorious bunches crowned ?
Then o'er thy treasures and thy joys cast a fond look around;
And find that stocks and shares and gold are what I chiefly prize;
The sap Divine supports and flows, and permeates each pore:
How with Thy life-blood in my veins I shall more fruitful be;
It shall no longer bear thee down, but be at once removed ;
* * THE BRANCH. * *
Thou hast had all my bunches: there are no more to take:
To help, support, and comfort thee, and bear thee on in life;
Let but Thy sap course through my veins; to Thee I leave the rest :
A branch luxuriant upon the true and only Vine.”