PEACE.

My soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry

All skilful in the wars:

There above noise and danger,

Sweet Peace sits, crowned with smiles,

And One born in a manger

Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious Friend,

And (O my soul, awake!)
Did in pure love descend,

To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flower of peace,

The rose that cannot wither,

Thy fortress, and thine ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges ;
For none can thee secure,
But One who never changes,
Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure.

DEPARTED FRIENDS.

THEY are all gone into a 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 the 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 glimmerings and decays.

O holy Hope, and high Humility,

High as the heavens above!

These are your walks, and you have showed 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 fledg'd bird's nest may know,

At first sight, if the bird be flown;

But what fair field 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 flame must needs burn there;

But when the hand that locked her up gave room,

She'd shine through all the sphere.

O Father of eternal life, and all

Created glories under Thee!

Resume my 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.

TO THE HOLY BIBLE.

O BOOK! life's guide! how shall we part?
And thou so long seized of my heart!
Take this last kiss; and let me weep
True thanks to thee before I sleep.

Thou wert the first put in my hand,
When yet I could not understand,
And daily didst my young eyes lead
To letters, till I learned to read.

But as rash youths, when once grown strong,
Fly from their nurses to the throng

Where they new consorts choose, and stick

To those till either hurt or sick;

So with that first light gained from thee

Ran I in chase of vanity,

Cried dross for gold, and never thought
My first cheap book had all I sought.
Long reigned this vogue; and thou, cast by,
With meek dumb looks didst woo mine eye,

And oft, left open, would convey
A sudden and most searching ray

Into my soul, with whose quick touch,
Repining, still I struggled much.

By this mild art of love at length
Thou overcam❜st my sinful strength,
And having brought me home, didst there
Show me that pearl I sought elsewhere.
Gladness, and peace, and hope, and love,
The secret favours of the Dove;

Her quickening kindness, smiles, and kisses,
Exalted pleasures, crowning blisses,
Fruition, union, glory, life,

Thou didst lead to; and still all strife.
Living, thou wert my soul's sure ease,
And dying, mak'st me go in peace:

Thy next effects no tongue can tell ;
Farewell, O Book of God!

Farewell!

"I HAVE LEARNED IN WHATSOEVER STATE I AM THEREWITH TO BE CONTENT."

To such great mercies what shall I prefer?

Or who from loving God shall me deter?

Burn me alive with curious skilful pain,

Cut up and search each warm and breathing vein ;
When all is done death brings a quick release,
And the poor mangled body sleeps in peace.
Hale me to prisons, shut me up in brass:

My still free soul from thence to God shall pass.

Banish or bind me; I can be nowhere
A stranger or alone; my God is there.

I fear not famine. How can he be said

To starve who feeds upon the living bread?

And yet this courage springs not from my store;
Christ gave it me, who can give much, much more.
I of myself can nothing dare or do;

He bids me fight; and makes me conquer too.
If like great Abraham I should have command
To leave my father's house and native land,
I would with joy to unknown regions run,
Bearing the banner of his blessed Son.
On worldly goods I will have no design;
But use my own, as if mine were not mine.
Wealth I'll not wonder at, nor greatness seek,

But choose, though laughed at, to be poor and meek.
In love and wealth, I'll keep the same staid mind;
Grief shall not break me, nor joys make me blind.

'Life of Paulinus.'