sorrow

Death of kindred improved.

Zech. 1:5.

Must friends and kindred droop and die,
And helpers be withdrawn?
While sorrow with a weeping eye
Counts up our comforts gone?

Be thou our comfort, mighty God!
Our helper and our friend;
Nor leave us in this dangerous road,
Till all our trials end.

O may our feet pursue the way
Our pious fathers led!
With love and holy zeal obey
The counsels of the dead.

Let us be weaned from all below,
Let hope our grief expel,

The Christian's treasure.

1 Cor. 3:21.

How vast the treasure we possess!
How rich thy bounty, King of grace!
This world is ours, and worlds to come;
Earth is our lodge, and heav'n our home.

All things are ours: the gifts of God;
The purchase of a Savior's blood;
While the good Spirit shows us how
To use, and to improve them too.

If peace and plenty crown my days,
They help me, Lord, to speak thy praise;
If bread of sorrows be my food,
Those sorrows work my lasting good.

The same; or, The martyrs glorified.

Rev. 7:13ff.

"These glorious minds, how bright they shine!
Whence all their white array?
How came they to the happy seats
Of everlasting day?"

From torturing pains to endless joys
On fiery wheels they rode,
And strangely washed their raiment white
In Jesus' dying blood.

Now they approach a spotless God,
And bow before his throne
Their warbling harps and sacred songs
Adore the Holy One.

The unveiled glories of his face

The end of the world.

Why should this earth delight us so?
Why should we fix our eyes
On these low grounds where sorrows grow,
And every pleasure dies ?

While time his sharpest teeth prepares
Our comforts to devour,
There is a land above the stars,
And joys above his power.

Nature shall be dissolved and die,
The sun must end his race,
The earth and sea for ever fly
Before my Savior's face.

When will that glorious morning rise?
When the last trumpet sound,

Meditation of heaven; or, The joy of faith.

My thoughts surmount these lower skies,
And look within the veil;
There springs of endless pleasure rise,
The waters never fail.

There I behold, with sweet delight,
The blessed Three in One;
And strong affections fix my sight
On God's incarnate Son.

His promise stands for ever firm,
His grace shall ne'er depart;
He binds my name upon his arm,
And seals it on his heart.

Light are the pains that nature brings;
How short our sorrows are,

Self-righteousness insufficient.

"Where are the mourners," saith the Lord,
"That wait and tremble at my word,
That walk in darkness all the day?
Come, make my name your trust and stay.

["No works nor duties of your own
Can for the smallest sin atone
The robes that nature may provide
Will not your least pollutions hide.

"The softest couch that nature knows
Can give the conscience no repose;
Look to my righteousness and live;
Comfort and peace are mine to give.]

The Humiliation and exaltation of Christ.

Isa. 53:1-5,10-12.

Who has believed thy word,
Or thy salvation known?
Reveal thine arm, Almighty Lord,
And glorify thy Son.

The Jews esteemed him here
Too mean for their belief;
Sorrows his chief acquaintance were,
And his companion, grief.

They turned their eyes away,
And treated him with scorn;
But 'twas their grief upon him lay,
Their sorrows he has borne.

'Twas for the stubborn Jews,
And Gentiles then unknown,

The repenting prodigal.

Luke 15:13,etc.

Behold the wretch whose lust and wine
Had wasted his estate,
He begs a share among the swine,
To taste the husks they eat!

"I die with hunger here," he cries,
"I starve in foreign lands;
My father's house has large supplies
And bounteous are his hands.

"I'll go, and with a mournful tongue
Fall down before his face,-
Father, I've done thy justice wrong,
Nor can deserve thy grace."

He said, and hastened to his home,

Whose was the hand that painted thee, O Death!
In the false aspect of a ruthless foe,
Despair and sorrow waiting on thy breath --
O gentle Power! who could have wronged thee so?

Thou rather shouldst be crowned with fadeless flowers,
Of lasting fragrance and celestial hue;
Or be thy couch amid funereal bowers,
But let the stars and sunlight sparkle through.

So, with these thoughts before us, we have fixed
And beautified, O Death! thy mansion here,
Where gloom and gladness -- grave and garden -- mixed,

(A Negro Sermon.)


Once, in a night as black as ink,
She drove him out when he would not drink.
Round the house there were men in wait
Asleep in rows by the Gaza gate.
But the Holy Spirit was in this man.
Like a gentle wind he crept and ran.
("It is midnight," said the big town clock.)

He lifted the gates up, post and lock.
The hole in the wall was high and wide
When he bore away old Gaza's pride
Into the deep of the night: —
The bold Jack Johnson Israelite, —
Samson —