So, cured of my folly, yet cured but in part, Weave visions of promise that bloomed but to fade I thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven Would be bright as the summer, and glad as the morn; Thou show'dst me the path; it was dark and uneven, All rugged with rocks, and all tangled with thorn. I dreamed of celestial reward and renown; I grasped at the triumph which blesses the brave; I asked for the palm-branch, the robe and the crown, I asked-and thou show'dst me a cross and a grave. Subdued and instructed, at length, to thy will, My hopes and my longings I fain would resign; O give me the heart that can wait and be still, Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but thine. There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe, But they stand in a region by mortals untrod; There are rivers of joy-but they roll not below; There is rest-but it dwells in the presence of God. THE MARIYRS OF SCOTLAND. REV. H. BONAR. THERE was gladness in Zion, her standard was flying, There is mourning in Zion, her standard is lying, The good have been taken, their place is forsaken— The man and the maiden, the green and the gray; The voice of the weepers wails over the sleepersThe martyrs of Scotland that now are away. The hue of her waters is crimson'd with slaughters, And the blood of the martyrs has redden'd the clay; And dark desolation broods over the nation, For the faithful are perished, the good are away. On the mountains of heather they slumber together; On the wastes of the moorland their bodies decay: How sound is their sleeping, how safe is their keeping, Though far from their kindred they moulder away! Their blessing shall hover, their children to cover, HEAVEL. REV. H. BONAR. THAT clime is not like this dull clime of our All, all is brightness there; A sweeter influence breathes around its flowers, And a far milder air. No calm below is like that calm above, No region here is like that realm of love; Earth's softest spring ne'er shed so soft a light, Earth's brightest summer never shone so bright. That sky is not like this sad sky of ours, No shadow dims it, and no rain-cloud lowers No broken sunshine there! One everlasting stretch of azure pours Its stainless splendor o'er those sinless shores; For there Jehovah shines with Heavenly ray, There Jesus reigns dispensing endless day. These dwellers there are not like those of earth, No mortal stain they bear; And yet they seem of kindred blood and birth,— Earth was their native soil; from sin and shame, These robes of theirs are not like those below; No angel's half so bright! Whence came that beauty, whence that living glow, Washed in the blood of the atoning Lamb, JESUS IS VIVE. MRS. H. BONAR. PASS away earthly joy, Jesus is mine! Break every mortal tie, Jesus is mine! Dark is the wilderness; Jesus alone can bless: Jesus is mine! Tempt not my soul away, Jesus is mine! Here would I ever stay, Jesus is mine! Perishing things of clay, Born but for one brief day, Pass from my heart away, Fare ye well, dreams of night, |