"WE WEPT WHEN WE REMEMBERED ZION." OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Mourn where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell. And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice? Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, SABBATH MORNING. DEAR is the hallow'd morn to me, And dear to me the winged hour, 'To feel devotion's soothing power, And dear to me the loud Amen, Which echoes through the blest abode, Which swells and sinks, and swells again, Dies on the walls, but lives to God. And dear the rustic harmony, Sung with the pomp of village art; That holy, heavenly melody, The music of a thankful heart. In secret I have often pray'd, And still the anxious tear would fall; But, on thy sacred altar laid, The fire descends, and dries them all. Oft when the world, with iron hands, Then dear to me the Sabbath morn; The village bells, the shepherd's voice; Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre, Ours be the prophet's car of fire, That bears us to a Father's arms. SABBATH EVENING. Is there a time when moments flow It is, of all the times below, A Sabbath eve in summer tide. O! then the setting sun smiles fair, And then the peace that Jesus beams, Delightful scene! a world at rest, If heaven be ever felt below, A scene so heavenly, sure, as this May cause a heart on earth to know Some foretaste of celestial bliss. Delightful hour! how soon will night Yet will there dawn at last a day, The heavenly Sabbath never dies! GOD OUR FATHER. Is there a lone and dreary hour Is there a time of racking grief, Is there an hour of peace and joy, The noontide blaze, the midnight scene, The sick, nay, e'en the dying hour, PROVIDENCE. GOD moves in a mysterious way, He plants his footsteps in the sea, Deep in unfathomable mines He treasures up his bright designs, Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; Judge not the Lord by feeble sense His purposes will ripen fast, The bud may have a bitter taste, Blind unbelief is sure to err, DEATH OF A BELIEVER. O THINK that, while you 're weeping here, And think that all his pains are fled, |