Friends! Friends! oh, shall we meet, Oh, if this may be So, Speed, speed their closing day! To pass away. MRS. HEMANS. THE LITTLE SHROUD. SHE put him on a snow-white shroud, To scatter o'er the dead. She laid him in his little grave- When spring was putting forth its flowers, She had lost many children-now The last of them was gone; And day and night she sat and wept Thou canst not light or wavering deem Thou know'st in Joy's enlivening beam, My pride, my bliss had been to share 'Tis o'er; but never from my heart And never in the suppliant sigh Pour'd forth to Him who sways the sky, Shall mine own name be breathed on high, Farewell! and O! may He whose love In Mercy yet thy guilt reprove; Thy dark'ning clouds dispel: Where'er thy wandering steps incline, And in His name-Farewell! REV. THOMAS DALE. "FORGIVE." OH God, my sins are manifold, against my life they cry, And all my guilty deeds foregone, up to thy temple fly; Wilt thou release my trembling soul, that to despair is driven : 66 Forgive "a blessed voice replied, and thou shalt be forgiven. My foemen, Lord! are fierce and fell, they spurn me in their pride, They render evil for my good, my patience they deride Arise, oh King! and be the proud to righteous ruin driven; "Forgive"-an awful answer came, as thou would'st be forgiven. Seven times, oh Lord! I pardon'd them, seven times they sinned again, They practise still to work me woe, they triumph in my pain. But let them dread my vengeance now, to just resent 66 ment driven; Forgive "the voice of thunder spake, or never be forgiven. BISHOP HEBER. One midnight, while her constant tears She heard a voice, and lo! her child His shroud was damp, his face was white; He said—" I cannot sleep, Your tears have made my shroud so wet; Oh, mother, do not weep!" Oh, love is strong!-the mother's heart One eve a light shone round her bed, "Lo! mother, see my shroud is dry, And I can sleep once more!" And beautiful the parting smile And down within the silent grave He laid his weary head; And soon the early violets Grew o'er his grassy bed. The mother went her household ways- And only asked of Heaven its aid, Her heavy lot to bear. L. E. L. TRUST IN GOD. Nor seldom, clad in radiant vest, The smoothest seas will sometimes prove, And if she trust the stars above, They can be treach'rous too. The umbrageous Oak, in pomp outspread, But Thou art true, Incarnate Lord! |