When gladness wings my favored hour,
Thy love my thoughts shall fill;
Resigned, when storms of sorrow lower,
My soul shall meet Thy will.
My lifted eye without a tear
The gathering storm shall see;
My steadfast heart shall know no fear;
That heart will rest on Thee.
HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.-1762-1827.
"Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness."
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up His bright designs,
And works His sovereign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain ;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
NOTHING GOOD WILL PERISH.
NOTHING good shall ever perish,
Only the corrupt shall die;
Truth, which men and angels cherish,
Flourishes eternally.
None are wholly God-forsaken,
All His sacred image bear; None so lost but should awaken In our hearts a brother's care.
Not a mind but has its wisdom –
Power of working wo or weal;
So degraded none's condition
But the world its weight may feel.
Words of kindness, words of warning,
Deem not thou may'st work in vain,
Even those thy counsel scorning,
Oft shall they return again.
Though the mind absorbed in pleasure
Holds the voice of counsel light,
Still doth faithful memory treasure,
What at first we seemed to slight.
Words of kindness we have spoken,
May, when we have passed away,
Heal, perhaps, a spirit broken,
Guide a brother led astray.
No one act but is recorded;
Not a word but has its weight:
Every virtue is rewarded-
Outrage punished soon or late.
Let no being then be rated
As a thing of little worth:
Every soul that is created,
Has its part to play on earth.
"FOR I SHALL YET PRAISE HIM."
WHILE the Angels are all singing,
All of glory ever springing
In the grounds of Heaven's high graces
Where all virtues have their places,
O that my poor soul were near them
With a humble heart to hear them!
But ah! wretched, sinful creature!
How should the corrupted nature
Of this wicked heart of mine
Think upon that love divine,
That doth tune the Angels' voices,
Whilst the Host of Heaven rejoices?
Yet while Mercy is removing
All the sorrow of the loving,
How can Faith be full of blindness,
To despair of Mercy's kindness,
While the hand of Heaven is giving
Comfort from the Ever-Living?
No! my Soul, be no more sorry!
Look unto that life of glory,
Which the grace of Faith regardeth,
And the tears of Love rewardeth,
Where the soul the Comfort getteth,
That the Angels' music setteth !
There, when thou art well conducted,
And by heavenly grace instructed,
How the faithful thoughts to fashion
Of a true adorer's passion,
Sing with saints to Angels nighest,
"Hallelujah in the highest!"
THE PRESENT LIFE IN VIEW OF THE FUTURE.
Он, if we are not bitterly deceived
If this familiar spirit that communes
With yours this hour - that has the power to search All things but its own compass
Struck from the burning essence of its God-
If, as we dream, in every radiant star
We see a shining gate through which the soul,
In its degrees of being, will ascend-
If, when these weary organs drop away,
We shall forget their uses and commune
With angels and each other, as the stars
Mingle their light, in silence and in love-
What is this fleshly fetter of a day
That we should bind it with immortal flowers!
How do we ever gaze upon the sky,
And watch the lark soar up till he is lost,
And turn to our poor perishing dreams away,
Without one tear for our imprisoned wings!
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