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He wounds them for his mercy's sake,
Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Now, trav'ller in the vale of tears!
There is a calm for those who weep,
The soul, of origin divine,
God's glorious image freed from clay,
The sun is but a spark of fire,
THE dove let loose in eastern skies,
Returning fondly home,
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies
But high she shoots through air and light,
Where nothing earthly bounds her flight,
So grant me, God, from earthly care,
No lure to tempt, no art to stay
THE DECEITFULNESS OF THE WORLD.
In the morning of life, when its sweet sunny smile Shines bright on our path, we may dream we are
We may look on the world as a gay fairy isle, Where sorrow's unknown, and the weary have
But the brightness that shone, and the hopes we enjoy'd,
Are clouded ere noon, and soon vanish away; While the dark beating tempest, on life's stormy tide,
Obscures all the sweets of the morning's bright
Then where are those bowers, in some gay happy
Where hope ne'er deceives, and where love is aye true;
ere the brightness of morning shines on but to gain
A sunshine as bright and as promising too?
Oh! ask for if not, in this valley of sighs,
Where we smile but to weep, and we ne'er can find rest;
For the world we would wish, shines afar in the
Where sorrow's unknown-'tis the home of the
ENTHRON'D upon a hill of light,
Yet was he sad and lonely here;
And mingled, while in this dark sphere,
In spirit poor, in look forlorn,
A crown of heav'nly radiance now,
The bow'r of interwoven light
Seems, at the sound, to grow more bright.
Then while with visage blank and sear,
The poor in soul we see;
Let us not think what he is here,
But what he soon will be;
And look beyond this earthly night,
To crowns of gold, and bow'rs of light.
EVENING HYMN FOR FAMILY WORSHIP.
O LORD, another day is flown,
And we, a lonely band,
Are met once more before thy throne,
And wilt thou bend a list'ning ear,
To praises low as ours?
Thou wilt! for Thou dost love to hear
And Jesus, thou thy smiles wilt deigu,
For thou didst bless the infant train,
O let thy grace perform its part,
Thus chasten'd, cleans'd, entirely thine,
A flock by Jesus led;
The sun of Holiness shall shine,
In glory on our head.
And thou wilt turn our wand'ring feet,
And thou wilt bless our way;
'Till worlds shall fade, and faith shall greet The dawn of lasting day.
H. K. WHITE.
PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,
The motion of a hidden fire,
Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,
The upward glancing of an ye,
Prayer is the simplest form of speech
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
The saints in prayer appear as one
Nor prayer is made on earth alone,
And Jesus on the eternal throne
O thou by whom we come to God,