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In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies,
And death stills the soul's last emotion,

O then may the seraph of mercy arise,
Like a star on eternity's ocean.

Anonymous.

VOL. I

PRAYER.

Go when the morning shineth,
Go when the noon is bright,
Go when the day declineth,
Go in the hush of night.
Go with pure mind and feeling,
Fling earthly thoughts away,
And in thy chamber kneeling,
Do thou in secret pray.

Remember all who love thee,
All who are loved by thee;
Pray too for those who hate thee,
If any such there be.
Then for thyself in meekness
A blessing humbly claim,
And link with each petition,
Thy great Redeemer's name.

Or if 'tis e'er denied thee

In solitude to pray,

Should holy thoughts come o'er thee,

When friends are round thy way;

Even then the silent breathing

Of thy spirit raised above,

Will reach His throne of glory,
Who is mercy, truth, and love!

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Oh, not a joy or blessing

With this can we compare,

The power that he hath given us
To pour our souls in prayer!
Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness,
Before his footstool fall,

And remember in thy gladness,
His grace who gives thee all.

Anonymous.

THE EVENING HOUR.*

SWEET evening hour! Sweet evening hour!
That calms the air and shuts the flower,
That brings the wild bee to its nest,

The infant to its mother's breast.

Sweet hour! that bids the labourer cease,

That gives the weary team release,

And leads them home, and crowns them there

With rest and shelter, food and care.

O season of soft sounds and hues,
Of twilight walks among the dews,
Of feelings calm and converse sweet,
And thoughts too shadowy to repeat!

Yes, lovely hour! thou art the time
When feelings flow and wishes climb,
When timid souls begin to dare,

And God receives, and answers prayer.

This and the five following pieces are selected from the "Gems of Sacred Poetry"—a work containing many of the finest effusions of the consecrated muse. Reference is made to the merits of this valuable collection in the introductory observations to the present volume.

THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF.

Then, trembling, through the dewy skies,
Look out the stars, like thoughtful eyes
Of angels, calm reclining there,
And gazing on the world of care.

Sweet hour! for heavenly musing made,
When Isaac walked and Daniel prayed,
When Abram's offering God did own,
And Jesus loved to be alone.

195

THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF.
THERE is a tongue in every leaf,

A voice in every rill

A voice that speaketh everywhere,
In flood and fire, through earth and air!
A tongue that's never still!

'Tis the Great Spirit, wide diffused
Through every thing we see,
That with our spirits communeth
Of things mysterious-life and death,
Time and eternity!

I see him in the blazing sun,
And in the thunder-cloud;

I hear him in the mighty roar
That rusheth through the forests hoar

When winds are raging loud.

I feel him in the silent dews,

By grateful earth betrayed;

I feel him in the gentle showers,

The soft south wind, the breath of flowers,
The sunshine and the shade.

I see him, hear him, everywhere,
In all things-darkness, light,
Silence, and sound; but, most of all,
When slumber's dusky curtains fall,
I' the silent hour of night.

THE BODY AND THE SOUL.
WHAT is this body? fragile, frail,
As vegetation's tenderest leaf ;--
Transient as April's fitful gale,

And as the flashing meteor brief.
What is this soul? eternal mind,
Unlimited as thought's vast range,
By grovelling matter unconfined;

The same, while states and empires change.

When long this miserable frame

Has vanished from life's busy scene, This earth shall roll, that sun shall flame, As though this dust had never been.

When suns have waned, and worlds sublime Their final revolutions told,

'This soul shall triumph over time,

As though such orbs had never rolled.

THE SAILOR'S EVENING PRAYER.

LONG the sun hath gone to rest,
Dimmed is now the deepening west;
And the sky hath lost the hue
That the rich clouds o'er it threw :
Lonely on the pale blue sky
Gleam faint streaks of crimson dye,
Gloriously the evening star

Looks upon us from afar :

Aid us o'er the changeful deep,

God of power;
Bless the sailor's ocean sleep,
At midnight's hour.

On the stilly twilight air

We would breathe our solemn prayer,—
"Bless the dear ones of our home,

Guide us through the wild waves' foam,

WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT?

To the light of those dear eyes,
Where our heart's best treasure lies,
To the love in one fond breast,

That unchanging home of rest!

Hear her, when at even-tide

She kneels to pray,

That God would bless, defend, and guide
Those far away!"

Now the moon hath touched the sea,
And the waves, all tremblingly,

Throw towards heaven their silvery spray,

Happy in the gladdening ray:

Thus, Redeemer, let thy love

Shine upon us from above;

Touched by thee, our hearts will rise,

Grateful towards the glowing skies;

Guard us, shield us, Mighty Lord,

Thou dost not sleep;

Still the tempest with thy word,—
Rule the deep!

197

66

WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT?

SAY, watchman, what of the night?

Do the dews of the morning fall? Have the orient skies a border of light, Like the fringe of a funeral pall ?

'The night is fast waning on high,

And soon shall the darkness flee,

And the morn shall spread o'er the blushing sky,
And bright shall its glories be."

But, watchman, what of the night,
When sorrow and pain are mine,

And the pleasures of life, so sweet and bright,
No longer around me shine?

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