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Seeking to do His will, to know His love, Longing to dwell, to reign with Him above; So shall His Spirit's unction breathe on thee, And fill thy soul with heavenly sanctity.
TO A SLUMBERING CHRISTIAN.
“Ye are all the children of light, and the children of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. Therefore, let us not sleep, as do others, but let us watch and be sober.”—1 Thess. v. 5, 6.
FOND, busy dreamer, cease to weave
A web of fancied joy,
'Tis but an empty toy.
This world can have no rest for thee,
No happiness below;
Of trouble, care, and woe.
Say, can the fighting soldier sleep
Upon the battle-field?
Then cease to sorrow o'er the past,
The future leave with God; With thy loins girded, follow fast
The path which Christ hath trod.
Oh! watch and pray, thou ransomed one,
Nor lay thy weapons down,
Christ shall bestow the crown.
“And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until the water dropped upon them out of heaven; and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night.”—2 Sam. xxi. 10.
HUSH ! for a sound of dirge-like music floats
For, hour by hour that lonely woman keeps
“How are ye fallen, my bright-haired sons ! Cut off in your beauty, my blooming ones; Struck down, ere the glory of manhood's prime, As a green tree falls before its time.
The bird shall spring from her grassy nest. And the wild goat climb o'er the mountain's
breast; But your princely forms shall no more be seen Bounding along in the forest green.
Hushed are the voices that whispered low, When ye knelt in prayer at the sunset's glow, Or poured forth your praises, to heaven borne By the light-winged zeyhyr of early morn.
But now ye must pass to the silent tomb,
can feel Each sorrowing mourner's woe, for Thou hast
been A man of sorrows in this world of sin.