Nor Prayer is made on earth alone:
The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus, on th' eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.
O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The life, the truth, the way;
The path of prayer thyself hast trod :
Lord, teach us how to pray.
WHEN on Sinai's top I see
God descend in majesty,
To proclaim his holy law,
All my spirit sinks with awe.
When in ecstacy sublime,
Tabor's glorious height I climb,
In the too transporting light,
Darkness rushes o'er my sight.
When on Calvary I rest,
God, in flesh made manifest,
Shines in my Redeemer's face,
Full of beauty, truth, and grace.
Here I would for ever stay,
Weep and gaze my soul away:
Thou art heaven on earth to me,
Lovely, mournful Calvary.
THERE is a calm for those who weep;
A rest for weary pilgrims found:
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,
Low in the ground.
The storm that wrecks the winter sky,
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh
That shuts the rose.
I long to lay this painful head,
And aching heart, beneath the soil;
To slumber in that dreamless bed
The grave, that never spake before,
Hath found at length a tongue to chide;
O listen!-I will speak no more:
"Art thou a mourner? hast thou known The joy of innocent delights,
Endearing days for ever flown,
And tranquil nights,
“O live! and deeply cherish still The sweet remembrance of the past; Rely on heav'n's unchanging will
"Tho' long of winds and waves the sport,
Condemn'd in wretchedness to roam;
Live! thou shalt reach a shelt'ring port,
A quiet home.
"Seek the true treasure, seldom found,
Of power the fiercest griefs to calm,
And soothe the bosom's deepest wound
With heav'nly balm.
"Whate'er thy lot-where'er thou be-
Confess thy folly—kiss the rod;
And in thy chast'ning sorrows see
"A bruised reed he will not break,
Afflictions all his children feel;
He wounds them for his mercy's sake;
He wounds to heal!
"Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Prostrate, his providence adore:
"Tis done! arise! He bids thee stand,
To fall no more.
"Now, traveller in the vale of tears!
To realms of everlasting light,
Thro' time's dark wilderness of years,
Pursue thy flight.
"There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found:
And while the mould'ring ashes sleep
Low in the ground;
The soul, of origin divine,
God's glorious image, freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine
Á star of day.
The sun is but a spark of fire,
A transient meteor in the sky;
The soul, immortal as its sire,
Shall never die!
THE God of nature and of grace
In all his works appears;
His goodness through the earth we trace,
His grandeur in the spheres.
Behold this fair and fertile globe,
By him in wisdom plann'd;
"Twas he who girded, like a robe,
The ocean round the land.
Lift to the firmament your eye,
Thither his path pursue;
His glory, boundless as the sky,
O'erwhelms the wond'ring view.
He bows the heavens-the mountains stand
A highway for their God;
He walks amidst the desert land,—
'Tis Eden where he trod:
The forests in his strength rejoice.
Hark! on the evening breeze,
As once of old, the Lord God's voice
Is heard among the trees,
Here on the hills he feeds his herds,
His flocks on yonder plains;
His praise is warbled by the birds,
Oh, could we catch their strains !--
Mount with the lark, and bear our song
Up to the gates of light;
Or, with the nightingale, prolong
Our numbers through the night!
In ev'ry stream his bounty flows,
Diffusing joy and wealth;
In ev'ry breeze his spirit blows,
The breath of life and health.
His blessings fall in plenteous show'rs
Upon the lap of earth,
That teems with foliage, fruit and flow rs,
And rings with infant mirth.
If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound,
How beautiful, beyond compare,
Will paradise be found!
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