Publications, Issue 139

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Page 61 - JESUS, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow thee ; Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou, from hence, my all shalt be ; Perish every fond ambition, All I've sought, or hoped, or known ; Yet how rich is my condition, God and heaven are still my own.
Page 171 - Ah! little think the gay licentious proud, "Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround ; They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth And wanton, often cruel, riot waste ;— Ah ! little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain...
Page 106 - Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my Hymn. Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the Vale ! O struggling with the darkness all the night, And visited all night by troops of stars, Or when they climb the sky or when they sink...
Page 98 - FRIEND after friend departs ; Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying none were blest.
Page 13 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ; Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sit'st above these Heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 36 - If aught should tempt my soul to stray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way, To fly the good I would pursue, Or do the sin I would not do, — Still He, who felt temptation's power, Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
Page 24 - First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, Regent of day, and all the horizon round Invested with bright rays, jocund to run His longitude through heaven's high road ; the gray Dawn and the Pleiades before him danced, Shedding sweet influence.
Page 206 - Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren, transported to greet; While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul.
Page 84 - Some angel guide my pencil, while I draw, What nothing less than angel can exceed ! A man on earth devoted to the skies ; Like ships in sea, while in, above the world. With aspect mild, and elevated eye, Behold him seated on a mount serene, Above the fogs of sense, and passion's storm ; All the black cares, and tumults, of this life, Like harmless thunders, breaking at his feet, Excite his pity, not impair his peace.
Page 48 - Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more; I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you; For morn is approaching, your charms to restore, Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew, Nor yet for the ravage of winter I mourn; Kind Nature the embryo blossom will save.

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