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OH! lovely voices of the sky
Which hymn'd the Saviour's birth,

Are ye not singing still on high,
Ye that
sang, "Peace on earth"?
To us yet speak the strains

Wherewith, in time gone by,
Ye bless'd the Syrian swains,
Oh! voices of the sky!

Oh! clear and shining light, whose beams
That hour Heaven's glory shed,
Around the palms, and o'er the streams,
And on the shepherd's head.

Be near, through life and death,
As in that holiest night

Of hope, and joy, and faith-
Oh! clear and shining light!

Oh! star which led to Him, whose love
Brought down man's ransom free-
Where art thou ?-'midst the host above,
May we still gaze on thee?

In heaven thou art not set,
Thy rays earth may not dim;
Send them to guide us yet,

Oh! star which led to Him!


"But the ship was now in the midst of the sea, tossed with waves; for the wind was contrary."

St. Matthew, xiv. 24.

FEAR was within the tossing bark,
When stormy winds grew loud;
And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bow'd.

And men stood breathless in their dread,

And baffled in their skill

But One was there, who rose and said
To the wild sea, "Be still!"

And the wind ceas'd-it ceas'd!-that word
Pass'd through the gloomy sky;

The troubled billows knew their Lord,

And sank beneath his eye.



And slumber settled on the deep,

And silence on the blast,

As when the righteous falls asleep,

When death's fierce throes are past.

Thou that didst rule the angry hour,

And tame the tempest's mood

Oh! send thy spirit forth in power,
O'er our dark souls to brood!

Thou that didst bow the billow's pride,
Thy mandates to fulfil-

Speak, speak to passion's raging tide,

Speak and say "Peace, be still!"


He knelt the Saviour knelt and pray'd,
When but His Father's eye

Look'd through the lonely garden's shade,
On that dread agony!

The Lord of all, above, beneath,

Was bow'd with sorrow unto death.

The sun set in a fearful hour,

The skies might well grow dim,
When this mortality had power

So to o'ershadow Him!

That He who gave man's breath might know,
The very depths of human woe.

He knew them all-the doubt, the strife,
The faint, perplexing dread,

The mists that hang o'er parting life,
All darken'd round His head!
And the Deliverer knelt to pray—
Yet pass'd it not, that cup, away.

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