FAITH IN HUMBLE LIFE.
THY triumphs, Faith, we need not take
Alone from the blest martyr's stake;
In scenes obscure no less we see
That Faith is a reality;
An evidence of things not seen,
A substance firm whereon to lean,
Go, search the cottager's low room,
The day scarce piercing through the gloom;
The Christian on his dying bed,
Unknown, unlettered, hardly fed;
No flattering witnesses attend,
To tell how glorious was his end;
Save in the book of life, his name
Unheard; he never dreamt of fame :
No human consolation near,
No voice to soothe, no friend to cheer;
Of every earthly stay bereft,
And nothing but his Saviour-left;
Fast sinking to his kindred dust,
The word of life is still his trust;
The joy God's promises impart
Lies like a cordial at his heart;
Unshaken faith its strength supplies,
He loves, believes, adores, and dies!
MORNING HYMN.
SOFT slumbers now mine eyes forsake,
My powers are all renewed;
May my freed spirit too awake,
With heavenly strength endued.
Thou silent murderer, Sloth, no more
My mind imprisoned keep;
Nor let me waste another hour
With thee, thou felon Sleep.
Think, O my soul, could dying men
One lavished hour retrieve,
Though spent in tears, and passed in pain,
What treasures would they give!
But seas of pearls, and mines of gold,
Were offered then in vain;
Their pearl of countless price is sold,
And where's the promised gain?
Lord, when thy day of dread account
For squandered hours shall come,
Oh! let not this increase th' amount,
And swell the former sum.
Teach me in health such good to prize,
I dying shall esteem;
And every pleasure to despise
I then shall worthless deem.
For all thy wondrous mercies past
My grateful voice I'll raise,
While thus I quit my bed of rest,
Creation's Lord to praise.
MISS AIKIN, afterwards Mrs. Barbauld, was the only daughter of Dr. John Aikin, a Presbyterian minister. Early in life she married Rochemont Barbauld, who opened a seminary at Palgrave, at which place he had obtained the charge of a congregation. In his scholastic employment he was assisted by Mrs. Barbauld, who devoted all her talents to the instruction of the pupils; and it was for them that she composed her well-known "Early Lessons," and "Hymns in Prose." Of her devotional poems too much cannot be said in commendation; they entitle her to the esteem of every Christian. She died in 1825.
AN ADDRESS то THE DEITY.
GOD of my life, and Author of my days!
Permit my feeble voice to lisp thy praise,
And trembling take upon a mortal tongue
That hallowed name, to harps of seraphs sung.
Yet here the brightest seraphs could no more
Than hide their faces, tremble and adore.
Worms, angels, men in every different sphere,
Are equal all, for all are nothing here.
All nature faints beneath the mighty name
Which nature's works through all her parts proclaim;
I feel that name my inmost thoughts control,
And breathe an awful stillness through my soul;
As by a charm the waves of grief subside,
Impetuous passion stops her headlong tide:
At thy felt presence all emotions cease,
And
my hushed spirit finds a sudden peace,
Till every worldly thought within me dies,
And earth's gay pageants vanish from my eyes;
Till all my sense is lost in infinite,
And one vast object fills my aching sight.
But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain,
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But He our gracious Master, kind as just,
Knowing our frame remembers man is dust.
His spirit ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined;
Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the softest cry,
grace descends to meet the lifted eye;
He reads the language of a silent tear,
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give,
Accept the vow and bid the suppliant live :
From each terrestrial bondage set me free!
Still every wish that centres not in Thee:
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.
If the soft hand of winning pleasure leads
By living waters and through flowery meads,
Where all is smiling, tranquil, and serene,
And vernal beauty paints the flattering scene,
Oh! teach me to elude each latent snare,
And whisper to my sliding heart,-Beware!
With caution let me hear the syren's voice,
And doubtful with a trembling heart rejoice.
If friendless in a vale of tears I stray,
Where briers wound and thorns perplex my way-
Still let my steady soul thy goodness see,
And with strong confidence lay hold on Thee;
With equal eye my various lot receive,
Resigned to die, or resolute to live;
Prepared to kiss the sceptre or the rod,
While God is seen in all, and all in God.
I read his awful name emblazoned high,
With golden letters on the illumined sky;
Nor less the mystic characters I see
Wrought in each flower, inscribed on every tree;
In every leaf that trembles to the breeze
I hear the voice of God among the trees;
With Thee in shady solitudes I walk;
With Thee in busy crowded cities talk;
In every creature own thy forming power,
In each event thy providence adore.
Thy hopes shall animate my drooping soul,
Thy precepts guide me, and thy fear control.
Thus shall I rest unmoved by all alarms.
Secure within the temple of thine arms;
From anxious cares, from gloomy terrors free,
And feel myself omnipotent in Thee.
Then when the last, the closing hour draws nigh,
And earth recedes before my swimming eye;
When trembling on the doubtful edge of fate,
I stand and stretch my view to either state;
Teach me to quit this transitory scene
With decent triumph and a look serene;
Teach me to fix my ardent hopes on high,
And having lived to Thee, in Thee to die.
JEHOVAH reigns: let every nation hear,
And at his footstool bow with holy fear;
Let heaven's high arches echo with his name,
And the wide-peopled earth his praise proclaim.
Then send it down to hell's deep glooms, resounding
Through all her caves in dreadful murmurs sounding.
He rules with wide and absolute command
O'er the broad ocean and the steadfast land:
Jehovah reigns, unbounded and alone,
And all creation hangs beneath his throne:
He reigns alone; let no inferior nature
Usurp or share the throne of the Creator.
He saw the struggling beams of infant light
Shoot through the massy gloom of ancient night;
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