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By the clear brook, or through the forest
glade, The light, the sunbeam of those happy
hours; But ruthloss death has stolen from the bower, A Summer rose, Judea's fairest flower.
But hold 1 strong victor, for a stronger still, Shall burst the iron fetters thou hast cast
Around thy victim, His almighty will
Restrains thee, and the sleep of death is past.—
The silent pulse rebounds—the lifeless clay
Thrills to the wakening touch of Deity.
THE FATHER'S HAND.
"For whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom He receiveth. If ye endure chastening, God dealeth with you as with sons; for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not ?" — Heb. xii. 6, 7.
Oh! welcome scourge, which in a Father's hand
Dost lose thy keenness, once again I feel
Thy chastening stroke, nor can my heart withstand
These gentle cords of love, that smite to heal;
That wound, to bring my wandering spirit home,—
Home to a Saviour's side, whene'er I roam.
Faint not, my soul! but plume thy drooping
wing, And soar above the fleeting joys of earth;
Strengthened by faith and hope, to Jesus cling
Sing of His love who left a home of glory
To veil His Deity in human clay;
Who on the tree, with visage marr'd and gory,
Bore all thy sins, and washed their guilt away,
In the rich fountain of His holy blood,
To give thee pure and undefiled to God.
Sing of the eye that watches o'er thy going,
Sing of the glory that awaits thy soul
And thou hast safely reached the heavenly
goal, To rest for ever on its peaceful shore; To know the boundless love of Him who died— To dwell through countless ages with the
THE CLOUDY AND DARK DAY.
"As a shepherd seeketh out his flock in the day that he is among his sheep that are scattered; so will I seek out my sheep, and will deliver them out of all places, where they have been scattered in the cloudy and dark day."—Ezek. xxxiv. 12.
When the blue sky is shaded
When the thought of to-morrow
When bright hopes are dying,
And the full heart is sighing
Pale mourner repine not,