Prepare to act a noble part : In war He is our peace; Men's thunder is His voice : Through sufferings sharp He brings release: The hours with steady flight Haste on the glorious year : In those more blessed days The children of mankind ASSURANCE OF GOD'S LOVE. O! WOULD you be assured you love your God, Make Him a God that must be loved of need, A God you cannot otherwise than love. Throw off that yoke of joyless servitude, That niggard balancing of right and wrong, Which fears to give too little or too much. Doubt is not love suspicion is not love! Believe that He has known you, pitied you, Taken you Himself from prison and from death, Sought and pursued you through a world of ill Restrained you, taught you, reared for His own. Believe that He forgives you every sin, you Pays every debt, and cancels every claim prepares Watches beside your pillow while you sleep, CAROLINE FRY THE UNSEARCHABLE. "O! God most hidden and most manifest."- St. Augustine. O HEIGHT that doth all height excel, O awful depth unsearchable, Wherein the Eternal One doth hide! O dreadful glory that doth make Thick darkness round the Heavenly Throne, Througn which no angel eye may break, Our fainting souls the quest give o'er, What secret place, what distant star, Vain searchers! but we need not mourn, Thou beamest, Lord, from all bright things. The glory no man may abide Doth visit us, a gracious guest, Thou, whom "excess of light" doth hide, But sweetest dost Thou, Lord, appear The Heavenly Majesty draws near То us, vain searchers after God, To us the Holy Ghost doth come : From us Thou hidest Thine abode, But Thou wilt make our souls Thy home. O Presence Bright, our soul's sweet Guest! O farthest off, O ever near ! Most Hidden and Most Manifest! T. H. GILL. THE FUTURE LIFE. How shall I know thee in the sphere which keeps When all of thee that time could wither sleeps For I shall feel the sting of ceaseless pain Will not thy own meek heart demand me there? That heart whose fondest throbs to me were given? My name on earth was ever in thy prayer, Shall it be banished from thy tongue in heaven? In meadows fanned by heaven's life-breathing wind, In the resplendence of that glorious sphere, And larger movements of the unfettered mind, The love that lived through all the stormy past, A happier lot than mine, and larger light In cheerful homage to the rule of right, And lovest all, and renderest good for ill. For me, the sordid cares in which I dwell, Shrink and consume my heart, as heat the scroll; And wrath has left its scar that fire of hell Has left its frightful scar upon my soul. Yet though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, Shalt thou not teach me, in that calmer home, - Thy fit companion in the world of bliss? WILLIAM C. BRYANT. |