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The madman in a tomb had made
His mansion of despair:
With heedless footsteps there !
He met that glance so thrilling sweet,
He heard those accents mild ; And, melting at Messiah's feet,
Wept like a weanèd child.
O madder than the raving man !
O deafer than the sea ! How long the time since Christ began
To call in vain to me!
Yet, could I hear him once again,
As I have heard of old, Methinks he should not call in vain
His wanderer to the fold.
O God, that every thought canst know,
And answer every prayer !
But snatch me from despair !
My struggling will by grace control;
broken vow: What blessed light breaks on my soul ?
O Lord ! I hear Thee now.
The Widow of Nain.
WAKE not, O mother, sounds of lamentation !
Weep not, O mother, weep not hopelessly! Strong is His arm, the Bringer of Salvation ;
Strong is the Word of God to succour thee.
Bear forth the cold corpse; slowly, slowly bear
him, Hide his pale features with the sable pall; Chide not the sad one wildly weeping near him,
Widowed and childless, she has lost her all.
Why pause the mourners ? who forbids our
weeping? Who the dark pomp of sorrow has delayed ? Set down the bier! he is not dead but sleeping ! Young man, arise!' He spake and was
Change then, O sad one! grief to exultation;
Worship and fall before Messiah's knee; Strong was His arm, the Bringer of Salvation :
Strong was the Word of God to succour thee !
It is I, be not afraid.
OFT when the waves of passion rise, And storms of life conceal the skies,
And o'er the ocean sweep; Tossed in the long tempestuous night, We feel no ray of heavenly light,
To cheer the lonely deep.
But lo, in our extremity,
E'en now he passes by!
Be not afraid, 'tis I.'
Ah Lord ! if it be thou indeed,
So good, so strong to save ;Speak the kind word of power to me, Bid me believe and come to thee,
Swift-walking on the wave.
He bids me come! his voice I know, And boldly on the waters go,
And brave the tempest's shock: O'er rude temptations now I bound; The billows yield a solid ground,
The wave is firm as rock!
Come in, come in, thou Prince of Peace!
And fall, no more to rise :
Our haven in the skies,
He said unto the sea, 'Peace, be still.'
LORD! thou didst arise and say
To the troubled waters, 'Peace!
Down they sank the foamy seas ;
Lord ! thy gracious word repeat
To the billows of the proud : Quell the tyrant's martial heat,
Quell the fierce and changing crowd: Then the earth shall find repose From its restless strife and woes ; And an imaged heaven appear On our world of darkness here,
Lord ! that I
Like the blind beside the way:
The glory of thy perfect day :
On our dim and earthly sun;
star its course hath run,
58.-75. Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy
laden, and I will give you rest.