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It is that heaven-taught faith surveys
The path to realms of light; And longs her eagle plumes to raise,
And lose herself in sight.
It is that hope with ardour glows
To see Him face to face, Whose dying love no language knows
Sufficient art to trace.
It is that harass'd conscience feels
The pangs of struggling sin; Sees, though afar, the hand that heals
And ends her war within.
Oh! let me wing my hallow'd flight
From earth-born wo and care ; And soar beyond these realms of night, My Saviour's bliss to share.
A BROTHER IN ADVERSITY.
WHEN every scene this side the grave
Seems dark and cheerless to the eye, How sweet in such an hour to have
A brother in adversity !
When father, mother, all are gone,
When bursts affection's closest tie, How sweet to claim, as still our own,
A brother in adversity !
When frowns an angry world unkind,
And hope's delusive visions fly, How sweet in such an hour to find
A brother in adversity?
And who is this whom still we find,
When father, mother, husband die, Still faithful, tender, loving, kind?
A brother in adversity!
Jesus! my Lord! ah, who can trace
Thy love unchanging, full, and free! Or tell the riches of thy grace,
Thou brother in adversity !
Ye trav’llers in this wilderness,
Who somewhat of his beauty see,
LONGING FOR HEAVEN.
WHEN on the verge of life I stand,
Where Jesus dwells my soul would be, It faints my much-lov'd Lord to see; Earth, twine no more about my heart, For 'tis far better to depart.
Come, ye angelic envoys, come,
That blessed interview, how sweet!
As with a seraph's voice to sing,
THE HEAVENLY REST.
There is an hour of peaceful rest
To mourning wand'rers given; There is a tear for souls distress'd A balm for every wounded breast;
'Tis found above in heaven!
There is a soft, a downy bed,
'Tis fair as breath of even; A couch for weary mortals spread, Where they may rest the aching head,
And find repose in heaven!
There is a home for weary souls
By sin and sorrow driven; When toss'd on life's tempestuous shoals, Where storms arise, and ocean rolls,
And all is drear-'tis heaven!
There faith lifts up the tearful eye,
The heart with anguish riven; And views the tempest passing by, The evening shadows quickly fly, And all serene in heaven!
There fragrant flow'rs immortal bloom,
And joys supreme are given;
THE SAINT IN HEAVEN.
Escap'd from earth, I'm tried no more;
« BLESSED ARE THE DEAD THAT DIE IN THE
Hark! a voice, it cries from heav'n,
Happy in the Lord who die;
From a world of grief to fly!
They indeed are truly blest;
All their toils and conflicts over,
Lo! they dwell with Christ above;
Now they see him face to face,
"Tis enough, enough for ever,
"Tis his people's bright reward,
Oh! that we may die like those