Though now ascended up on high,
He bends on earth a brother's eye,
Partaker of the human name,
He knows the frailty of our frame.
Our fellow sufferer yet retains
A fellow feeling of our pains;
And still remembers in the skies
His tears, and agonies, and cries.
In ev'ry pang that rends the heart,
The Man of Sorrows had a part;
He sympathises in our grief,
And to the sufferer sends relief.
With boldness, therefore, at the throne,
Let us make all our sorrows known,
And ask the aids of heav'nly power,
To help us in the evil hour.
THERE is a calm for those who weep;
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
They softly lie, and sweetly sleep,
Low in the ground.
The storm that wrecks the wintry sky,
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer, evening's latest sigh,
That shuts the rose.
I long to lay this painful head,
And aching heart, beneath the soil;
To slumber in that dreamless bed
From all my toil.
The grave, that never spake before,
Hath found at length a tongue to chide;
O listen!—I will speak no more ;—
Be silent, pride!
Art thou a mourner ? hast thou known
The joy of innocent delights,
Endearing days for ever flown
And tranquil nights?
O live! and deeply cherish still
The sweet remembrance of the past;
Rely on Heaven's unchanging will
For peace at last.
Though long of winds and waves the sport,
Condemn'd in wretchedness to roam,
Live! thou shalt reach a shelt'ring port,
A quiet home.
Seek the true treasure, seldom found,
Of power the fiercest griefs to calm,
And soothe the bosom's deepest wound
With heavenly balm.
Whate'er thy lot, where'er thou be,
Confess thy folly, kiss the rod,
And in thy chast'ning sorrows see
The hand of God.
A bruised reed he will not break;
Afflictions all his children feel;
He wounds them for his mercy's sake,
He wounds to heal!
Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Prostrate, His providence adore;
Tis done! arise! He bids thee stand,
To fall no more.
Now, traveller in the vale of tears,
To realms of everlasting light,
Through time's dark wilderness of years,
Pursue thy flight.
There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found;
And, while the mould'ring ashes sleep,
Low in the ground,
The soul, of origin divine,
God's glorious image freed from clay,
In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine
A star of day;
The sun is but a spark of fire,
A transient meteor in the sky;
The soul, immortal as its Sire,
SHALL NEVER DIE!
STRENGTH AND RIGHTEOUSNESS IN CHRIST.
My Saviour, my Almighty Friend,
When I begin thy praise,
Where will the growing numbers end,
The numbers of thy grace?
Thou art my everlasting trust,
Thy goodness I adore ;
And since I knew thy graces first,
I speak thy glories more.
My feet shall travel all the length
Of the celestial road,
And march with courage in thy strength,
To see my Father, God.
When I am filled with sore distress
For some surprising sin,
I'll plead thy perfect righteousness,
And mention none but thine.
How will my lips rejoice to tell
The victories of my King!
My soul, redeemed from sin and hell,
Shall thy salvation sing.
Awake, awake, my tuneful powers;
With this delightful song
I'll entertain the darkest hours,
Nor think the season long.
PLEADING FOR THE PARDON OF SINS.
SHOW pity, Lord, O Lord, forgive,
Let a repenting rebel live:
Are not thy mercies large and free
May not a sinner trust in thee?
O wash my soul from every sin,
And make my guilty conscience clean ?.
Here on my heart the burden lies,
And past offences pain my eyes.
My lips with shame my sins confess
Against thy law, against thy grace:
Lord, should thy judgment grow severe,
I am condemn'd, but thou art clear.
My soul lies humbled in the dust,
And owns thy dreadful sentence just ;
Look down, O Lord, with pitying eye,
And save the soul condemn'd to die.
A broken heart, my God, my King,
Is all the sacrifice I bring;
The God of grace will ne'er despise
A broken heart for sacrifice.
Create my nature pure within,
And form my soul averse to sin:
Let thy good Spirit ne'er depart,
Nor hide thy presence from my heart.
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