Matt. xxv. 35 - 40.
A poor, wayfaring man of grief Hath often crossed me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief, That I could never answer "Nay."
I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in…
Searcher of gold, whose days and nights
All waste away in anxious care,
Estranged from all of life's delights,
Unlearned in all that is most fair -
Who sailest not with easy glide,
But delvest in the depths of tide,
And strugglest in the foam…
The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved.
Jeremiah viii. 20.
-----Praise to the God of harvest! praise!Who sent the blessed sunshine days,The early and the latter rain,The flower, the fruit, the waving grain.The vintage songs…
1.
I have a son, a little son, a boy just five years old,With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould.They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears -That my child is wise and grave of heart, beyond his childish years.I…
Wake! children of the men who said,"All are born free!" Their spirits comeBack to the places where they bledIn Freedom's holy martyrdom,And find you sleeping on their graves,And hugging there your chains, - ye slaves!Ay - slaves of slaves! What,…
Brothers! the day declines,
Above the glacier brightens,
And red through Hunkwyl pines
The vesper halo lightens;
From hamlet, rock, and chalet,
Your grateful songs be poured,
Till mountain, lake, and valley,
Re-echo - Praise the Lord.
The sun…
There is a book, who runs may read,
Which heavenly truth imparts,
And all the lore its scholars need,
Pure eyes and Christian hearts.
The works of God above, below,
Within us and around,
Are pages in that book, to show
How God himself is…
ALL night the booming minute-gun
Had peal'd along the deep,
And mournfully the rising sun
Looked o'er the tide-worn steep.
A bark from India's coral strand,
Before the raging blast,
Had vail'd her topsails to the sand,
And bow'd her noble…
What speaks the thunder, when its midnight cry
Rolls through heaven's vast and cloudy palaces?
What writes the lightning on the ebon sky,
When the fierce tempests, wrapped in sackcloth, rise
From their huge cradles, on the roaring seas? What…
There's sorrow on the sea -
The ocean's mighty deep,
When raging winds roar furiously,
And mournful vigils keep:
When noble barques press foaming waves, And sink amid unnumber'd graves.
There's sorrow on the surge,
When blacken'd grows…
