In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies, O then may the seraph of mercy arise, Anonymous. VOL. I PRAYER. Go when the morning shineth, Remember all who love thee, Or if 'tis e'er denied thee In solitude to pray, Should holy thoughts come o'er thee, When friends are round thy way; Even then the silent breathing Of thy spirit raised above, Will reach His throne of glory, Oh, not a joy or blessing With this can we compare, The power that he hath given us And remember in thy gladness, Anonymous. THE EVENING HOUR.* SWEET evening hour! Sweet evening hour! The infant to its mother's breast. Sweet hour! that bids the labourer cease, That gives the weary team release, And leads them home, and crowns them there With rest and shelter, food and care. O season of soft sounds and hues, Yes, lovely hour! thou art the time And God receives, and answers prayer. This and the five following pieces are selected from the "Gems of Sacred Poetry"—a work containing many of the finest effusions of the consecrated muse. Reference is made to the merits of this valuable collection in the introductory observations to the present volume. THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF. Then, trembling, through the dewy skies, Sweet hour! for heavenly musing made, 195 THERE IS A TONGUE IN EVERY LEAF. A voice in every rill A voice that speaketh everywhere, 'Tis the Great Spirit, wide diffused I see him in the blazing sun, I hear him in the mighty roar When winds are raging loud. I feel him in the silent dews, By grateful earth betrayed; I feel him in the gentle showers, The soft south wind, the breath of flowers, I see him, hear him, everywhere, THE BODY AND THE SOUL. And as the flashing meteor brief. The same, while states and empires change. When long this miserable frame Has vanished from life's busy scene, This earth shall roll, that sun shall flame, As though this dust had never been. When suns have waned, and worlds sublime Their final revolutions told, 'This soul shall triumph over time, As though such orbs had never rolled. THE SAILOR'S EVENING PRAYER. LONG the sun hath gone to rest, Looks upon us from afar : Aid us o'er the changeful deep, God of power; On the stilly twilight air We would breathe our solemn prayer,— Guide us through the wild waves' foam, WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT? To the light of those dear eyes, That unchanging home of rest! Hear her, when at even-tide She kneels to pray, That God would bless, defend, and guide Now the moon hath touched the sea, Throw towards heaven their silvery spray, Happy in the gladdening ray: Thus, Redeemer, let thy love Shine upon us from above; Touched by thee, our hearts will rise, Grateful towards the glowing skies; Guard us, shield us, Mighty Lord, Thou dost not sleep; Still the tempest with thy word,— 197 66 WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT? SAY, watchman, what of the night? Do the dews of the morning fall? Have the orient skies a border of light, Like the fringe of a funeral pall ? 'The night is fast waning on high, And soon shall the darkness flee, And the morn shall spread o'er the blushing sky, But, watchman, what of the night, And the pleasures of life, so sweet and bright, |