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Nor let ambition heartless mourn;
When Babel's very ruins burn,

Her high desires may breathe ;
O'ercome thyself, and thou mayest share
With Christ his Father's throne,' and wear
The world's imperial wreath.



Is it a time to receive money, and to receive garments, and oliveyards, and vineyards, and sheep, and oxen, and menservants and maidservants ?-2 Kings v. 26.


Is this a time to plant and build,
Add house to house, and field to field,
When round our walls the battle lowers,
When mines are hid beneath our towers,
And watchful foes are stealing round
To search and spoil the holy ground ?

Is this a time for moonlight dreams
Of love and home by mazy streams,
For Fancy with her shadowy toys,
Aerial hopes and pensive joys,
While souls are wandering far and wide,
And curses swarm on every side ?

No-rather steel thy melting heart
To act the martyr's sternest part,
To watch, with firm unshrinking eye
Thy darling visions as they die,
Till all bright hopes, and hues of day,
Have faded into twilight gray.

1 To him that overcometh will I grant to sit with Me in My throne. - Rev. iii. 21.

Yes—let them pass without a sigh,
And if the world seem dull and dry,
If long and sad thy lonely hours,
And winds have rent thy sheltering bowers,
Bethink thee what thou art, and where,
A sinner in a life of care.



And after these things, He went forth, and saw a publican, named Levi, sitting at the receipt of custom : and He said unto him, Follow me. And he left all, rose up, and followed Him.-ST. LUKE V, 27, 28.

YE hermits blest, ye holy maids,

The nearest heaven on earth,
Who talk with God in shadowy glades,

Free from rude care and mirth;
To whom some viewless teacher brings

The secret lore of rural things,
The moral of each fleeting cloud and gale,
The whispers from above, that haunt the twilight vale:

Say, when in pity ye have gazed

On the wreathed smoke afar,
That o'er some town, like mist upraised,

Hung hiding sun and star,
Then as ye turned your weary eye

To the green earth and open sky,
Were ye not fain to doubt how Faith could dwell
Amid that dreary glare, in this world's citadel ?


But Love's a flower that will not die

For lack of leafy screen,
And Christian Hope can cheer the eye

That ne'er saw vernal green :

Then be ye sure that Love can bless

Even in this crowded loneliness,
Where ever-moving myriads seem to say,
Go—thou art nought to us, nor we to thee-away !

There are, in this loud stunning tide

Of human care and crime,
With whom the melodies abide

Of the everlasting chime;

music in their heart.
Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,
Plying their daily task with busier feet,
Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.

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Nor can ye not delight to think

Where He vouchsafed to eat,
How the Most Holy did not shrink

From touch of sinners' meat;
What worldly hearts, and hearts impure,

Went with Him through the rich man's door,
That we might learn of Him lost souls to love,
And view His least and worst with hope to meet above.

These gracious lines shed Gospel light

On Mammon's gloomiest cells,
As on some city's cheerless night

The tide of sunrise swells,
Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud

Are mantled with a golden cloud, And to wise hearts this certain hope is given; “No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of


And oh! if even on Babel shine

Such gleams of Paradise,
Should not their peace be peace divine,

Who day by day arise
To look on clearer heavens, and scan

The work of God untouched by man ?
Shame on us, who about us Babel bear,
And live in Paradise, as if God was not there!



Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants

of our God in their foreheads.-REVELATIONS vii. 3.

Why blow'st thou not, thou wintry wind,
Now every

leaf is brown and sere,
And idly droops, to thee resigned,

The fading chaplet of the year ?
Yet wears the pure aerial sky
Her summer veil, half drawn on high,

Of silvery haze, and dark and still
The shadows sleep on every slanting hill.

How quiet shows the woodland scene!

Each flower and tree, its duty done,
Reposing in decay serene,
Like weary men when



Such calm old age as conscience pure
And self-commanding hearts ensure,

Waiting their summons to the sky,
Content to live, but not afraid to die.




LORD, shall Thy children come to Thee ?
A boon of love divine we seek;
Brought to Thine arms in infancy,
Ere heart could feel or tongue could speak,
Thy children pray for grace, that they
May come themselves to Thee to-day.

Lord, shall we come ? and come again ?
Oft as we see yon table spread,
And—tokens of Thy dying pain-
The wine poured out, the broken bread,
Bless, bless, O Lord, Thy children's prayer,
That they may come and find Thee there.

Lord, we would come; not thus alone
At holy time, or solemn rite,
But every hour till life be flown,
Through weal or woe, in gloom or light,-
Come to Thy throne of grace, that we
In faith, hope, love, confirmed may be.

Lord, may we come, come yet again !
Thy children ask one blessing more;
To come, not now alone, but then,
When life and death and time are o'er,
Then, then to come, O Lord, and be,
Confirmed in heaven, confirmed by Thee.


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