I bless my God, who is my guide;
I sing in Sion's ways:
When shall I sing on Sion's hill
Thine everlasting praise?
Sphere-born Harmonious Sisters,
Voice and Verse.
BLEST pair of Syrens, pledges of Heaven's joy,
Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and
Wed your divinest sounds, and mixed power employ
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce;
And to our high-raised phantasy present
That undisturbed song of pure consent,
Aye sung before the sapphire-coloured throne,
To Him that sits thereon,
With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee :
Where the bright seraphim, in burning row,
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow;
And the cherubic host, in thousand quires,
Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
That we on earth, with undiscording voice
May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportioned sin
Jarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made,
To their great Lord, whose love their motion swayed
In perfect diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
Oh, may we soon again renew that song,
And keep in tune with heaven, till God ere long
To his celestial concert us unite,
To live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.
JOHN MILTON.
Soon to Meet Thee Face to Face. GLORIOUS Shepherd of the sheep,
May I dare to call me Thine,
One whom Thou wilt tend and keep
Safe beneath thy wings divine ?
Ah! with Thee so kind and near,
What have I to wish or fear?
Where the heavenly pastures grow,
Where the living waters glide,
Led and fed by Thee below,
I have nought to ask beside;
Nought but thankfulness of heart,
To proclaim how good Thou art.
Keep me in Thy righteous ways,
Guide me with Thy holy wand,
Through this life's perplexing maze,
Through the vale of death beyond;
Gracious Thou, and happy I,
With so great a Friend so nigh.
In the desert then I'm fed,
Manna round me rains from high,
Holy oil anoints my head,
And my cruse is never dry;
Then from grace 1 pass
I to grace,
Soon to meet Thee face to face.
Sweet Spirit Mother. ART thou near me, spirit mother,
When, in the twilight hour,
A holy hush pervades my heart
With mysterious power:
While eyes of dreamy tenderness
Seem gazing into mine,
And stir the fountains of my soul—
Sweet mother, are they thine?
Is thine the blessed influence
That o'er my being flings
A sense of rest, as though 'twere wrapped
Within an angel's wings?
A deep, abiding trustfulness,
That seems an earnest given
Of future happiness and peace
To those who dwell in heaven!
And ofttimes when my footsteps stray
In error's shining track,
There comes a soft, restraining voice,
That seems to call me back ;
I hear it not with outward ears,
But with a power divine
Its whisper thrills my inmost soul:
Sweet mother, is it thine?
It well may be, for know we not
That beings all unseen
Are ever hovering o'er our paths,
The earth and sky between?
They're with us in our daily walks,
And tireless vigils keep,
To weave those happy fantasies
That bless our hours of sleep!
Oh, could we feel that spirit-eyes
For ever on us gaze,
And watch each idle thought that threads
The heart's bewildering maze,
Would we not guard each careless word,
All sinful feelings quell,
Lest we should grieve the cherished ones
We loved on earth so well?
Sweet spirit mother, bless thy child!
And with a holy love
Inspire my feeble energies,
And when the long-imprisoned soul
These earthly bonds has riven,
Be thine the wing to wear it up
And waft it on to heaven.
Songs of Praise Awoke the Morn.
SONGS of praise the angels sang,
Heaven with hallelujahs rang,
When Jehovah's work begun,
When He spake, and it was done.
Songs of praise awoke the morn,
When the Prince of Peace was born;
Songs of praise arose, when He
Captive led captivity.
Heaven and earth must pass away,
Songs of praise shall crown that day:
God will make new heavens and earth,
Songs of praise shall hail their birth.
And will man alone be dumb,
Till that glorious kingdom come?
No;-the Church delights to raise
Psalms and hymns, and songs of praise.
Saints below, with heart and voice,
Still in songs of praise rejoice;
Learning here, by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above.
Borne upon the latest breath,
Songs of praise shall conquer death;
Then, amidst eternal joy,
Songs of praise their powers employ.
R. MONTGOMERY.
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