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2 Yet let the sons of grace revive;

God bids the soul that seeks him live;
And from the gloomiest shade of night

Calls forth a morning of delight. 3 The seeds of ecstasy unknown

Are in these watered furrows sown;
See the green blades, how thick they rise,

And with fresh verdure bless our eyes ! 4 In secret foldings they contain

Unnumbered ears of golden grain ;
And heaven shall pour its beams around,

Till the ripe harvest load the ground.
5 Then shall the trembling mourner come,

And find his sheaves, and bear them home:
The voice long broke with sighs shall sing,
Till heaven with hallelujahs ring.

494
L. M.

COWPER. The narrow Way. 1 WHAT thousands never knew the road!

What thousands hate it when 'tis known! None but the chosen tribes of God

Will seek or choose it for their own. 2 A thousand ways in ruin end ;

One only leads to joys on high; By that my willing steps ascend,

Pleased with a journey to the sky. 3 No more I ask or hope to find

Delight or happiness below; Sorrow may well possess the minil

That feeds where thorns and thistles grow. 4 The joy that fades is not for me;

I seek immortal joys above;
There glory without end shall be

The bright reward of faith and love.

495
L. M.

DODDRIDGE. The Wisdom of redeeming Time. 1 GOD of eternity, from thee

Did infant Time his being draw; Moments and days, and inonths and years,

Revolve by thine unvaried law. 2 Silent and slow they glide away;

Steady and strong the current flows,
Lost in eternity's wild sea,

The boundless gulf, from whence it rose. 3 With it the thoughtless sons of men

Before the rapid stream are borne
On to that everlasting home,

Whence not one soul can e'er return. 4 Yet while the shore, on either side,

Presents a gaudy, flattering show, We gaze, in fond amusement lost,

Nor think to what a world we go.
5 Great Source of wisdom, teach my heart

To know the price of every hour ;
That time may bear me on to joys

Beyond its measure, and its power.

391

SECTION II.

DEATH.

496
C. M.

Logan. Frailty and Mortality of Man. 1 ALL nature dies, and lives again;

The flower that paints the field, The trees that crown the mountain's brow,

And boughs and blossoms yield, — 2 Resign the honors of their form

At winter's stormy blast,
And leave the naked, leafless plain

A desolated waste.
3 Yet, soon reviving, plants and flowers

Anew shall deck the plain ; The woods shall hear the voice of spring,

And flourish green again.
4 But man forsakes this earthly scene,

Ah! never to return;
Shall any following spring revive

The ashes of the urn ?
5 The mighty flood that rolls along

Its torrents to the main,
Can ne'er recall its waters lost

From that abyss again.

6 And man, when laid in lonesome grave,

Shall sleep in death's dark gloom,
Until the eternal morning wake

The slumbers of the tomb.

497

C. M.

BISHOP HEBER.

Man's Mortality.

1 BENEATH our feet and o'er our head

Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,

Above us is the heaven.

2 Their names are graven on the stone,

Their bones are in the clay;
And ere another day is done,

Ourselves may be as they.
3 Death rides on every passing breeze;

He lurks in every flower ;
Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour.
4 Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know;

Where'er thy foot can tread,
The earth rings hollow from below,

And warns thee of her dead.
5 Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply

To truths divinely given ;
The bones that underneath thee lie

Shall live for hell or heaven.

393

498

C. M. Scotch PARAPHRASES. The Peace of the Grave. Job iii. 17-20. 1 HOW still and peaceful is the grave!

Where, life's vain tumults past, The appointed house, by Heaven's decree,

Receives us all at last. 2 The wicked there from troubling cease;

Their passions rage no more ; And there the weary pilgrim rests

From all the toils he bore.
3 There rest the prisoners, now released

From slavery's sad abode;
No more they hear the oppressor's voice,

Or dread the tyrant's rod.
4 There servants, masters, small and great,

Partake the same repose ;
And there, in peace, the ashes mix

Of those who once were foes.
5 All, levelled by the hand of death,

Lie sleeping in the tomb,
Till God in judgment calls them forth,

To meet their final doom.

499
S. M.

DODDRIDGE. Reflections on the State of our Fathers. 1 HOW swift the torrent rolls,

That bears us to the sea !
The tide that bears our thoughtless souls

To vast eternity!

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