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I'll read thy anger in the rack

That clouds awhile the day-beam's track;
Thy mercy in the azure hue

Of sunny brightness, breaking through!

There's nothing bright, above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of thy Deity!

There's nothing dark, below, above,
But in its gloom I trace thy love,
And meekly wait that moment, when
Thy touch shall turn all bright again!


O think, that while you're weeping here,
His hand a golden harp is stringing
And, with a voice serene and clear,
His ransomed soul, without a tear,

His Saviour's praise is singing!


And think, that all his pains are fled,

His toils and sorrows closed for ever; While He, whose blood for man was shed, Has placed upon his servant's head

A crown that fadeth never!

And think, that (in that awful day,
When darkness sun and moon is shading)

The form that, 'midst its kindred clay,
Your trembling hands prepare to lay,

Shall rise to life unfading!

Then weep no more for him, who's gone
Where sin and suffering ne'er shall enter;
But on that great High Priest alone,
Who can for guilt like ours atone,
Your own affections centre !

For thus, while round your lowly bier

Surviving friends are sadly bending,
Your souls, like his, to Jesus dear,
Shall wing their flight to yonder sphere,
Faith lightest pinions lending.

And thus, when to the silent tomb
Your lifeless dust like his is given,

Like faith shall whisper 'midst the gloom,

That yet again, in youthful bloom,

That dust shall smile in heaven!


Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!
Star of the east the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid!

Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining,
Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall:
Angels adore him in slumber reclining,
Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all.


Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Eden, and offerings divine:
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation;
Vainly with gold would his favour secure ;

Richer by far is the heart's adoration,
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor!

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!
Star of the east the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.


Our Father sits on yonder throne,
Amidst the hosts above;

He reigns throughout the world alone,
He reigns the God of love.

He knew us when we knew him not,
Was with us, though unseen;
His favours came to us unsought,
His love has wonderous been.

He keeps us now, securely keeps,
Whatever foe assails;

With vigilance that never sleeps,
With power that never fails.


He gives us hope that we shall be,
Ere long, with him above;
That we shall all his glory see,
And celebrate his love.

Then let us, while we dwell below,
Obey our Father's voice;

To all his dispensations bow,
And in his name rejoice.

How sweet to hear him say at last,
• Ye blessed children come;
The days of banishment are past,
And heaven is your home.'


And what is life?-An hour-glass on the run,

A mist, retreating from the morning sun,


A busy, bustling, still-repeated dream,

Its length ?—a minute's pause, a moment's thought:
And happiness?—a bubble on the stream,

That in the act of seizing, shrinks to nought.

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