When pillow'd soft and curtain'd round,
I lie in soothing slumbers drown'd,
Protect my helplessness in sleep;
From deaths, which walk in darkness, keep.
Guard thou the bed thy love has given,
Send happy dreams of thee and heaven,
And let my soul commune once more
With loved ones who have gone before.
My drooping mind and aching flesh
With manly strength inspire afresh;
And waking let me serve thee still,
From thee the power, from thee the will.
Or if before another day
My struggling soul must quit its clay; Let angels watch a sinner's end,
And bear me to the sinner's Friend,
Thus Lord, to thee my life I give,
For only while I pray I live;
Till death shall set my spirit free,
To dwell eternally with thee.
FAITH WORKETH BY LOVE.
O mourn not that the days are gone,
The old and wondrous days
When faith's unearthly glory shone
Along our earthly ways;
When the Apostle's gentlest touch
Wrought like a sacred spell,
And health came down on every couch
On which his shadow fell,
That glory is not wholly fled
That shone so bright before,
Nor is the ancient virtue dead,
Though thus it works no more;
Still Godlike power and goodness dwells,
And blessings round it move,
And faith still works its miracles,
Though now it works by love.
It may not on the crowded ways
Lift up its voice as then,
But still with sacred might it sways
The stormy minds of men;
Grace still is given to make the faint
Grow stronger through distress,
And even the shadow of the saint
Retains its power to bless.
THE LABOURER'S NOON-DAY HYMN.
Up to the throne of God is borne
The voice of praise at early morn,
And he accepts the punctual hymn,
Sung as the light of day grows dim.
Nor will he turn his ear aside
From holy offerings at noontide;
Then here reposing let us raise
A song of gratitude and praise.
Blest are the moments, doubly blest,
That drawn from this our hour of rest,
Are with a ready heart bestowed
Upon the service of our God.
Why should we crave a hallowed spot,
An altar is in each man's cot,
A church in every grove that spreads
Its living roof above our heads.
Look up to heaven! the industrious sun
Already half his race has run;
He cannot halt,for go astray,
But our immortal spirits may.
Lord since his rising in the east,
If we have faltered or transgressed,
Guide from thy love's abundant source
What yet remains of this day's course,
Help with thy grace through life's short day
Our upward and our downward way,
And glorify for us the west,
When we shall sink to final rest.
Go when the morning shineth,
Go when the moon is bright,
Go when the eve declineth,
Go in the hush of night,
Go with pure minds and feeling.
Put earthly thoughts away,
And in thy chamber kneeling
Do thou in secret pray.
Remember all who love thee,
All who are loved by thee,
Pray too for those who hate thee
If any such there be ;
Then for thyself in meekness
A blessing hunbly claim,
And link with each petition,
The great Redeemer's name.
But if 'tis here denied thee
In solitude to pray,
Should holy thoughts come o'er thee
When friends are round thy way;
E'en then the silent breathing
Of the spirit raised above,
Will reach his throne of glory,
Who is mercy, truth and love.
There's not a joy or blessing
With this we can compare,
The power that he has given
To pour our souls in prayer.
Whene'er thou pin'st in sadness
Before his footstool fall,
And remember in thy gladness,
His love who gave thee all.
In the tempest of life, when the waves and the gale
Are around and above, if thy footsteps should fail,
If thine eye should grow dim and thy caution depart,
Look aloft and be firm, and be fearless of heart:
If thy friend, who embraced in prosperity's glow,
With a smile for each joy and a tear for each woe,
Should betray thee when sorrows like clouds are
arrayed,
Look aloft to the friendship which never shall fade.
Should the visions which hope spreads in light to thine eye,
Like the tints of the rainbow, but brighten to fly,
Then turn and through tears of repentent regret,
Look aloft to the sun that is never to set.
Should they who are dearest, the son of thy heart,
The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart,
Look aloft from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To that soil where affection is ever to bloom.
And Oh! when death comes in his terrors to cast
His fears on the future, his pall on the past,
In that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart,
And a smile in thine eyes, look aloft and depart.
They err who measure life by years,
With false or thoughtless tongue;
Some hearts grow old before their time,
Others are always young.
"Tis not the number of the lines
On life's fast filling page,
'Tis not the pulse's added throbs
Which constitute theire age.
Some souls are serfs among the free,
While others nobly thrive;
They stand just where their father's stood,
Dead, even while they live!
Others all spirit, heart and sense,
Theirs the mysterious power
To live in thrills of joy or woe,
A twelvemomth in an hour!
Seize then the moments as they pass,
The woof of life is thought!
Warm up the colours, let them glow
With fire or fancy fraught.
Live to some purpose, make thy life
A gift of use to thee!
A joy, a good, a golden hope,
A heavenly argosy !
THE WARNING VOICE.
In every stage of life is given
A warning voice, it comes from heaven,
In childhood's hour it breathes around,
The fairest flowers are faded found ;
In youth it whispers as a friend-
Reflect upon thy latter end;
In manhood louder swells the cry—
Remember thou art born to die;
In age it thunders on the blast-
Oh man ! thy earthly years are past;
In joy and grief, in ease and care,
In ever stage, prepare, prepare!
THE ALPINE CROSS.
Benighted once were alpine storms,
Have buried hosts of martial forms,
Halting with fear, benumbed with cold,
While swift the avalanches rolled
Shouted our guide with quivering breath-
The path is lost! to move is death.
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