Prayer is the simplest form of speech Prayer the sublimest strains that reach 10 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air; His watchword at the gates of death: 15 Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, Returning from his ways; While angels in their songs rejoice, In prayer on earth the saints are one; Sweet fellowship they find. No prayer is made on earth alone: And Jesus, on the eternal throne, 20 25 For sinners intercedes. O, Thou, by whom we come to God; 30 The path of prayer thyself hast trod; J. MONTGOMERY. THE EVENING CLOUD. A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun; 5 Tranquil its spirit seem'd, and floated slow; 11 To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given; And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onward to the golden gates of heaven; Where, to the eye of Faith, it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies. WILSON. HYMN. WHEN Spring unlocks the flowers, When Summer's balmy showers When Winter binds in frosty chains In God the earth rejoiceth still, The birds that wake the morning, And those that love the shade; The sun that from his amber bower Rejoiceth on his way; The moon and stars, their Master's name In silent pomp display. Shal man, the lord of nature, Expectant of the sky;— 15 Shall man, alone unthankful, His little praise deny? No; let the year forsake his course, The seasons cease to be; Thee, Master, must we always love; The flowers of Spring may wither, The hope of Summer fade; The Autumn droop in Winter, The birds forsake the shade; The winds be lull'd; the sun and moon Forget their old decree; But we, in Nature's latest hour, O Lord, will cling to thee. HYMN. FROM Greenland's icy mountains, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, Their land from error's chain! What though the spicy breezes The gifts of God are strown, 20 25 30 The heathen in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone! Can we, whose souls are lighted Has learn'd Messiah's name! Waft, waft, ye winds, his story; It spreads from pole to pole; The Lamb for sinners slain, ON SOLITUDE. It is not that my lot is low, HEBER. In woods and glens I love to roam, 5 Yet when the silent evening sighs, 10 250 OF THE BRIGHT THINGS IN EARTH AND AIR My spirit takes another tone, The autumn leaf is sear and dead It floats upon the water's bed; I would not be a leaf, to die The woods and winds, with sudden wail, I've none to smile when I am free; Yet in my dreams a form I view, K. WHITE. THE BRIGHT THINGS IN EARTH AND AIR. Or the bright things in earth and air How little can the heart embrace! Soft shades and gleaming lights are there— Mine eye unworthy seems to read I cannot paint to Memory's eye The scene, the glance, I dearest love— 5 10 |