Beyond the parting and the meeting I shall be soon; Beyond the farewell and the greeting, Beyond this pulse's fever beating, I shall be soon. Love, rest, and home! Lord, tarry not, but come. Beyond the frost-chain and the fever Beyond the rock-waste and the river, Love, rest, and home! Sweet hope! Lord, tarry not, but come. HORATIUS BONAR. ADDRESS TO THE SOUL. Go, to shine before His throne; Lo, He beckons from on high! Fearless to His presence fly! Thine the merit of His Blood; Thine the Righteousness of God. Angels, joyful to attend, Is thy earthly house distrest, Burst thy shackles, drop thy clay, Shudder not to pass the stream; Him, whose dying love and power Safe is the expanded wave, See the haven full in view; Mount, their transports to improve; Such the prospects that arise AUGUSTUS MONTAGUE TOPLADY. THE DYING CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. VITAL spark of heavenly flame, Hark! they whisper; angels say, O Death! where is thy sting? ALEXANDER POPE. THEY ARE ALL GONE. THEY are all gone into the world of light, And I alone sit lingering here! Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear. It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, Like stars upon some gloomy grove, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest After the sun's remove. I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days; My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, Mere glimmering and decays. O holy hope! and high humility,— These are your walks, and you have show'd them me To kindle my cold love. Dear, beauteous death,-the jewel of the just, Shining nowhere but in the dark! What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark! He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know, At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair dell or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown. And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams Call to the soul when man doth sleep, So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep. If a star were confined into a tomb, Her captive flames must needs burn there; But when the hand that lockt her up gives room, She'll shine through all the sphere. O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee! Resume Thy Spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty! Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass; Or else remove me hence unto that hill Where I shall need no glass. HENRY VAUGHAN. FOR EVER WITH THE Lord. FOR ever with the Lord! Life from the dead is in that word, "Tis immortality! Here in the body pent, Absent from Him I roam, Yet nightly pitch my moving tent A day's march nearer home. My Father's house on high, Home of my soul! how near, At times, to faith's far-seeing eye Thy golden gates appear! Ah! then my spirit faints To reach the land I love, The bright inheritance of saints, Jerusalem above! Yet clouds will intervene, And all my prospect flies; Like Noah's dove, I flit between Rough seas and stormy skies. Anon the clouds depart, The winds and waters cease; While sweetly o'er my gladden'd heart Expands the bow of peace! Beneath its glowing arch, Along the hallow'd ground, I see cherubic armies march, A camp of fire around. I hear at morn and even, At noon and midnight hour, The choral harmonies of heaven Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower. Then, then I feel, that He, The Lord is never far from me, JAMES MONTGOMERY. WHAT ARE THESE IN BRIGHT ARRAY. WHAT are these in bright array, This innumerable throng, Round the altar, night and day, Hymning one triumphant song? "Worthy is the Lamb, once slain, Blessing, honor, glory, power, Wisdom, riches, to obtain, New dominion every hour." These through fiery trials trod; These from great affliction came; Now, before the Throne of God, Seal'd with His Almighty Name, Clad in raiment pure and white, Victor-palms in every hand, Through their dear Redeemer's might, More than conquerors they stand. Hunger, thirst, disease unknown, On immortal fruits they feed; JAMES MONTGOMERY. THE BETTER LAND. I HEAR thee speak of the better land; Thou call'st its children a happy band; Mother! oh where is that radiant shoreShall we not seek it and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs?" "Not there, not there, my child!" "Is it where the feathery palmtrees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies, "Is it far away in some region old Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold, Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand, Is it there, sweet mother, that better land?" "Not there, not there, my child! "Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy, Dreams cannot picture a world so fair,— Sorrow and death may not enter there: Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom, For, beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, It is there, it is there, my child!” FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS. PSALM LXXXVII. GLORIOUS things of thee are spoken, He, whose word cannot be broken, What can shake thy sure repose? Springing from eternal love, Well supply thy sons and daughters, And all fear of want remove : Who can faint, while such a river Ever flows their thirst t' assuage; Grace, which, like the Lord the giver, Never fails from age to age? Or 'midst the green islands of glittering Round each habitation hovering, seas See the cloud and fire appear, Where fragrant forests perfume the For a glory and a covering: breeze, Showing that the Lord is near. And strange, bright birds on their starry Thus deriving from their banner wings Pear the rich hues of all glorious things?" "Not there, not there, my child!" Light by night, and shade by day, Safe they feed upon the manna, Which He gives them when they pray. There is a name, in heaven bestow'd; That name, which hails them sons of God, The friends of peace shall know: There is a kingdom in the sky, Where they shall reign with God on high, Who serve Him best below. Lord! be it mine like them to choose The better part, like them to use The means Thy love hath given ! Be holiness my aim on earth, RICHARD MANT. PSALM LXXXIV. PLEASANT are Thy courts above, Happy birds that sing and fly Happy souls! their praises flow Who has led them safe through all. Lord! be mine this prize to win! THE PILGRIMS OF THE NIGHT. HARK! hark! my soul! angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat shore; How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life, when sin shall be no more! Angels of Jesus, Angels of light, Singing to welcome The pilgrims of the night! Darker than night life's shadows fall around us, And like benighted men we miss our mark: God hides Himself, and grace hath scarcely found us, Ere death finds out his victims in the dark. Angels of Jesus, Angels of light, Singing to welcome The pilgrims of the night! Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, "Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come;" And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the Gospel leads us home. Angels of Jesus, Angels of light, Singing to welcome The pilgrims of the night! Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea, And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing, Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee. Angels of Jesus, Angels of light, Singing to welcome The pilgrims of the night! |