Oldalképek
PDF
ePub

133

SACRED POETRY.

Eve. O pale, pathetic Christ-I worship thee!
thank thee for that woman!

CHRIST.

For, at last,

rapping round me your humanity,

ich, being sustain'd, shall neither break nor burn eath the fire of Godhead, will tread earth, ransom you and it, and set strong peace ixt you and its creatures. With my pangs confront sunken to all Nature's heart from yours, your sins: and since your sins rs of my clean soul shall follow them, a holy passion to work clear

e consecration. In my brow

Look on me!

☛ whiteness, shall be crown'd anew
crown'd human nature.
be uplifted on a cross

s of eclipse and anguish dread,
ift up in my pierced hands,
ark, but light—not unto death,
eyond the reach of guilt and grief,
reation. Henceforth in my name
e, O thou woman,―man, take hope!
shall be as smooth as Eden's sward,
steps of your prospective thoughts;
past them, a new Eden-gate
harmony,

ercy. Ye shall fall

n. nor pass out

pich hope, move on,

131

rners.

e lowli

-bec th, t

arepe ther

and love,

rayers

THE BRIDAL AND THE BURIAL.

By JAMES MONTGOMERY.

BLESSED is the bride whom the sun shines on;
Blessed is the corpse which the rain rains on.

I saw thee young and beautiful,
I saw thee rich and gay,
In the first blush of womanhood,
Upon thy wedding-day :
The church-bells rang,

And the little children sang

66

Flowers, flowers, kiss her feet;
Sweets to the sweet!

The winter is past, the rains are gone;

Blessed is the bride whom the sun shines on."

I saw thee poor and desolate,

I saw thee fade away,

In broken-hearted widowhood,
Before thy locks were grey;
The death-bell rang,

And the little children sang,—
"Lilies dress her winding-sheet;

Sweets to the sweet!

The summer's past, the sunshine's gone; Blessed is the corpse which the rain rains on."

ON WITNESSING A BAPTISM.

By N. P. WILLIS.

SHE stood up in the meekness of a heart
Resting on God, and held her fair young child
Upon her bosom, with its gentle eyes
Folded in sleep, as if its soul had gone
To whisper the baptismal vow in heaven
The prayer went up devoutly, and the lips
Of the good man glow'd fervently with faith
That it would be, even as he had pray'd,
And the sweet child be gather'd to the fold
Of Jesus. As the holy words went on
Her lips moved silently, and tears, fast tears,
Stole from beneath her lashes, and upon

The forehead of the beautiful child lay soft
With the baptismal water.
Then I thought
That, to the eye of God, that mother's tears
Would be a deeper covenant, which sin

And the temptations of the world, and death,
Would leave unbroken, and that she would know
In the clear light of heaven, how very strong
The prayer which press'd them from her heart had been
In leading its young spirit up to God.

"BLESSED ARE THEY THAT MOURN."
By W. C. BRYANT.

Он, deem not they are blest alone
Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
The Power who pities man has shown
A blessing for the eyes that weep.

The light of smiles shall fill again

The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
Are promises of happier years.

There is a day of sunny rest

For every dark and troubled night;
And grief may bide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light.

And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier
Sheddest the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
Will give him to thy arms again.

Nor let the good man's trust depart,
Though life its common gifts deny,-
Though with a pierced and broken heart,
And spurn'd of men, he goes to die.

For God has mark'd each sorrowing day,
And number'd every secret tear,
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
For all his children suffer here.

A DOMESTIC SCENE.

By Mrs. HEMANS.

"The priest-like father reads the sacred page."
The Cotter's Saturday Night.

'Twas early day-and sunlight stream'd
Soft through a quiet room,

That hush'd, but not forsaken seem'd-
Still, but with nought of gloom:
For there, secure in happy age,
Whose hope is from above,
A father communed with the page
Of heaven's recorded love.

Pure fell the beam, and meekly bright,
On his grey holy hair,

And touch'd the book with tenderest light,
As if its shrine were there:
But oh! that Patriarch's aspect shone
With something lovelier far-
A radiance all the spirit's own,
Caught not from sun or star.

Some word of life ev'n then had met
His calm benignant eye;

Some ancient promise, breathing yet
Of Immortality;

Some heart's deep language, where the glow
Of quenchless faith survives;
For every feature said-"I know

That my Redeemer lives."

And silent stood his children by,

Hushing their

very breath

Before the solemn sanctity

Of thoughts o'ersweeping death:
Silent-yet did not each young breast
With love and reverence melt?

Oh! blest be those fair girls-and blest
That home where God is felt!

HYMN.

By Bishop HEBER.

THE Lord shall come! the earth shall quake;
The mountains to their centre shake;

And withering from the vault of night,
The stars shall pale their feeble light.

The Lord shall come! but not the same
As once in lowliness he came ;
A silent Lamb before His foes,
A weary man and full of woes.

The Lord shall come! a dreadful form,
With rainbow wreath, and robes of storm;
On cherub wings and wings of wind,
Appointed Judge of all mankind!

AFFLICTION.

By JAMES MONTGOMERY.

I CANNOT call affliction sweet,
And yet 'twas good to bear;
Affliction brought me to Thy feet,
And I found comfort there.

My wearied soul was all resign'd
To Thy most gracious will;
Oh! had I kept that better mind,
Or been afflicted still!

Where are the vows which then I vow'd,
The joys which then I knew?
Those vanish'd like the morning cloud,

These like the early dew.

Lord, grant me grace for every day,

Whate'er my state may be;

Through life, in death, with truth to say, "My God is all to me!"

« ElőzőTovább »