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If I drink of the waters, so peaceful and still,
That flow in his field, I for ever shall live;
If I love him, and seek his commands to fulfil,
A place in his sheep-fold to me he will give.
The lambs are at peace in the fields when they play,
The long summer's day in contentment they spend;
But happier I, if in God's holy way

I try to walk always with Christ for my friend.

THIS IS NOT YOUR REST.

Is there not rest within our cottage dwelling?
Is there not rest beneath its trellised shade;
Where viewless birds with wild glad notes are swelling
The echoes by the murmuring river made,
That laves our garden foot; still shedding round
A dewy freshness through the calm profound?

Is there not rest for one, whose best affection
Is deeply shared by him on whom bestowed;
Whose smile has still the power to chase dejection
From this our calm, our beautiful abode?

In strife and turmoil lies the world around:
But here, O! surely here, may rest be found.

How beautifully bright the sunbeam glancing,

Casts rosy radiance through the apple bloom;
O'er the cool ripple on the waters dancing,

Wakening each flowret to more rich perfume!
How soft the green of yonder velvet plain-
An Eden of repose from care and pain.

All is at rest-save one dear tone of gladness,
Which ever and anon breaks on mine ear,
One-wanting which, my home would be all sadness-
His blessed voice which makes that home so dear!
All else is hushed, save the thanksgiving poured
By grateful hearts to their all-gracious Lord.

I AM THE WAY, AND THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE. 169

Yet even here a breath may blight the roses :
Dark hours may visit even this cloudless scene;
And all on which my glance in love reposes,

May change, and pass as if it ne'er had been!
A still small voice, that may not be represt,
Whispers, "Oh! child of earth, not here thy rest.

“Here all thy best beloved may fade before thee;

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'Here sin and death may sully all thy bliss:

"Here bright hours fleet, which time may ne'er restore thee:

"Look up-there is a surer rest than this,

Only here live, on heavenly love relying,

"And there thine earthly love shall live undying."

From the Christian Keepsake.

MORITZ ARNDT.
BORN, 1769.

I AM THE WAY, AND THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE.

FROM THE GERMAN.

AMID life's wild commotion,

Where nought the heart can cheer,

Who points beyond its ocean

To Heaven's brighter sphere?
Our feeble footsteps guiding,
When from the path we stray,
Who leads to bliss abiding?
Christ is our only Way.

When doubts and fears distress us,
And all around is gloom,
And shame and fear oppress us,

Who can our souls illume?

Heaven's rays are round us gleaming,

And making all things bright,

The sun of Truth is beaming,
In glory on our sight.

VOL. I.

3

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Who fills our heart with gladness
That none can take away?
Who shows us 'midst our sadness,
The distant realms of day?
'Mid fears of death assailing,

Who stills the heart's wild strife? 'Tis Christ! our aid unfailing, The Way, the Truth, the Life.

HYMN.

FROM THE GERMAN.

Go and dig a grave for me-
All the ties of earth are riven !
Spent with toil I soon shall flee

To the sweet repose of heaven;
Where the voices of the blest
Summon me to perfect rest.

Go, then, dig a grave for me,
Now my earthly course is closing;
Let my pilgrim's staff still be
Near me in the grave reposing;
And then lay my weary head
In that painless, dreamless bed.

Why should I make longer stay

In this shadowy vale of sorrow? Things that are our boast to-day

Vanish from us on the morrowLike the sand before the wind, Leaving scarce a trace behind,

Let me, then, in peace depart

Let me quit this world for ever! Earthly pleasures leave a smart

Time all earthly ties must severAnd its charms are empty show, Vain deceit, which ends in woe.

HYMN

Then farewell, with all your light,
Sun and stars in splendour gleaming,
I must journey from your sight,

To where distant orbs are beaming
Where your faint and feeble ray
Merges in eternal day!

You, who now in sorrow go,

Farewell! all my heart holds dearest! Heavenly aid can sooth your woe,

'Mid the griefs that press the nearest. Weep not for the semblance vain, Nought on earth can long remain.

Weep not that the hour is near
When I burst my earthly prison-
That from error, shame, and fear,
Doubt and gloom, I shall have risen
That from hence I take my flight
To the land of endless light.

Weep not! my Redeemer lives

Far above this world of sadness;
Faith still strength and comfort gives,
Hope inspires my soul with gladness:
And the voice of love I hear
"Tremble not! thy home is near!"

PAUL GERHARD.

BORN, 1606; DIED, 1676.

HYMN.

FROM THE GERMAN.

I SING the praises of thy name,
O Lord, with voice and heart;
Thy works on earth I will proclaim,
And in thy praise take part.

171

Who is it that has raised on high

The glorious vault of heaven? Who, from the genial earth and sky, Soft dew and rain has given?

Who warms us 'mid the wintry snows?
Who guards us from the wind?
Who helps us, every fruit that grows
In its due time to find?

Who can the breath of life sustain?
And who, with mighty hand,
Makes Peace to hold its blessed reign
Over our native land?

Lord, from thy hand all blessings flow;
All, all must come from Thee;
Thou keepest us on earth below
From harm and danger free.

Thou know'st each secret doubt and fear Which prompts the Christian's sigh; And thou wilt mark each silent tear, Though hid from human eye.

The void of life thou dost supply
With thoughts and hopes of heaven ;.
When Death shall close the mortal eye,
New life by Thee is given.

Why should we then each night and day
Our faithless tears let fall,

O cast thy load of care away
On him who cares for all.

Leave all things to His blessed will,
And let thy murmurs cease;
So shalt thou tread-a pilgrim still-
Thy way in perfect peace.

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