From beds of sickness to the Merciful, Pleading in faith "My Father! art not Thou The Guide, and the Preserver of my youth?" And thus has fled to glory. Who may tell In that high day when God makes up his own, How many gems in the Messiah's crown Were gather'd by these heralds!--Stranger, thou Weepest, and much I joy to see thee bend The knee, and mingle heart and prayer with mine, That heavenly dew may ever gently nourish This vine of God's own planting. May the prayers Of thousands, wafted to the eternal throne Drop in rich blessings on the Sunday-School. TAPPAN. A REAL OCCURRENCE IN A CIRCLE OF FRIENDS. Which is the happiest death to die? With bright celestial views. Mine were a lingering death, without pain, A death which all might love to see, And mark how bright and sweet should be The victory I should gain! "Fain would I catch a hymn of love From the angel-harps which ring above: "No," said another, "so not I: Sudden as thought is the death I would die; Nor the heart, where love's soft bands are breaking, So would I die! "All bliss, without a pang to cloud it! Oh! how bright Were the realms of light Even so, I long to go, These parting hours, how sad and slow!" His voice grew faint, and fix'd was his eye, As if gazing on visions of ecstasy; The hue of his cheek and lips decayed, Around his mouth a sweet smile played;They look'd-he was dead! His spirit had fled: Painless and swift as his own desire, From her mortal vest, Had stepp'd in her car of heavenly fire: And proved how bright Were the realms of light Bursting at once upon the sight! EDMESTON. A MOTHER'S GRIEF. 1 To mark the sufferings of the babe To see the infant's tears gush forth, Yet can but tell of agony, 2 Thro' dreary days and darker nights, To hear the faint and frequent sigh, To watch the last dread strife draw near, Though all is ended with its close, 3 To see in one short hour decayed To feel how vain a father's prayers, To think the cold grave now must close Of all the treasured joys of earth, This is a mother's grief. 4 Yet when the first wild throb is past Of anguish and despair, To lift the eye of faith to heaven This best can dry the gushing tear, DALE. SUNSET AND SUNRISE. Contemplate, when the sun declines, COWPER. THE BABYLONISH CAPTIVITY. 1 Along the banks where Babel's current flows, Our captive bands in deep despondence stray'd, While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose Her friends, her children, mingled with the dead. 2 The tuneless harp, that once with joy we strung, When praise employ'd and mirth inspired the lay, In mournful silence on the willows hung; And growing grief prolong'd the tedious day. 3 The barb'rous tyrants, to increase the wo; With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim; Bid sacred praise in strains melodious flow While they blaspheme the great Jehovah's name. 4 But how, in heathen chains and lands unknown, Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise? O hapless Salem, God's terrestrial throne, Thou land of glory, sacred mount of praise: 5 If e'er my mem'ry lose thy lovely name, If my cold heart neglect my kindred race, Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame: S |