The Story of the Glory Collection


Prefatory Note
The Story of the Glory
The Trumpet of Grace
The Great Day
In Hope
The Father's Love
The Love of Christ
The Great Shepherd
The Morning Star
The Grace of the Lord Jesus
A Contrast
The Heart's Desire
Christ Everything
Christ Only
Praise Him
He Maketh the Storm a Calm
The Same
Talks by the Way
The Voice of Jesus
Christ Triumphant
A Vision of the World to Come
My Beloved
Time's Flight
The Risen Christ
Written on Board the Lucania
The Faithful God
Thine Only
Morning Breaks
The Burden of Dumah
True Knowledge
A Medley
The "First-Born"
To a Floral Calendar
Jehovah my Shepherd
The Ways of God with Man
The Sceptic
A Hymn
The Christian's Hope
The Watchers' Cry
Death's Terrors
The Necromancer
A Child's Prayer
The Jewels of the King
The Trumpet of Salvation

The Trumpet of Grace.

By James Boyd.

HARK, hark to the trumpet of grace from the glory,
God's mercy proclaiming, so matchless and free.
It calls to a world, wretched, wrinkled, and hoary —
O youth, in thy morning it calleth to thee.
'Tis the voice of the Saviour, the Son of the Father,
Who calls from the heavens in fathomless love,
Who died that in grace He might righteously gather
The wanderers home to His glory above.
And thine eye is bright,
And thy heart is light,
And thine arms are stout and strong,
And upon thine ear
Falls loud and clear
The noise of the dance and song.
But the Saviour calls
From celestial halls
To thee on the wide world's brim;
And what dost thou say
In thy spring time gay,
O how dost thou answer Him?

His blood, shed for sinners, has virtue to cleanse thee,
And make thy sin-spotted soul whiter than snow;
A pardon blood-purchased in mercy He sends thee
O haste thee, O haste His salvation to know.
The sun of thy life all reluctant to leave thee
In darkness, declares thy meridian crossed,
And away in the west waits thy grave to receive thee —
Delay not, O mortal man, lest thou be lost.
For thy radiant noon
Shall give place so soon
To a cheerless eventide;
And at last a leap
In the darkness deep
Shall this life from that divide.
But the Saviour calls
From celestial halls
To thee through the shadows grim;
And what dost thou say
In thy bright noon-day,
O how dost thou answer Him?

Already the step of the monarch, before whom
The strongest must bow, may be heard at thy door;
Man may be defied, but thou canst not ignore him,
Who knoweth not how thy distress to deplore.
Thy tears and entreaties shall feel but his scorning,
His heart like the flint shall be deaf to thy dole;
And night that shall never surrender to morning
Shall swallow thee, body, and spirit, and soul.
Now thy locks are grey,
Thou hast had thy day,
And feeble thy steps have grown;
And dull is thine ear,
And thy vision blear,
And thy body bent and prone.
But to thee He calls
From celestial halls,
Old man with the palsied limb;
And what dost thou say
In thine evening grey,
O what dost thou answer Him?

Despise not the trump of salvation, resounding
O'er continents, kingdoms, and isles of the sea,
Proclaiming the grace of God richly abounding
To every lost creature, O sinner to thee.
In tender youth hear it, in manhood, when faded,
And feeble, and wrinkled, and withered, and near
To the shadows eternal: O man, be persuaded,
And bend to the message of mercy thine ear.
For the day of grace
Shall soon give place
To the night of judgment dread;
And soon shall be riven
The heart of heaven
With His lightnings fiery red.
But still He calls
From celestial halls
To thee in the darkness dim;
And what dost thou say
O sinner to-day?
O what dost thou answer Him?

O say, I am Thine: Thou hast died to redeem me,
And borne on Golgotha the smart of my sin;
Thou hast paid the full price, from the judgment to free me,
And life everlasting, my Saviour, to win.
I am Thine, Thou art mine, my eternal salvation,
My justification, my Lord, whom I own.
In Thee do I stand clear from all condemnation,
Where flame forth the bright shining beams of His throne.
And before Thee now
In the dust I bow
And confess Thee Lord of all.
O Saviour subdue
My proud spirit thro'
Thy great love's immortal thrall.
For Thy voice still calls
From celestial halls,
And it calls in grace to me.
O Saviour Divine,
I claim Thee mine —
And this must my answer be.

For that voice still calls
From celestial halls
Sweeter than seraphim,
And what dost thou say?
Is it Yea? or Nay?
O what dost thou say to Him?


To the Son of the Father low bend I the knee,
I will praise Him as long as I live;
My soul, from the terrors of hades set free,
To Him all the glory shall give.
No one in creation but Jesus alone
Is worthy of worship divine;
None other has title to kingdom or throne
Or claim upon homage of mine.
Praise ye the Lord!   Hallelujah!
Be His name adored!   Hallelujah!
All His deeds recite!
Spread abroad His might!
Praise Him day and night —   Hallelujah!
Eulogize His cross —   Hallelujah!
Sorrow, shame, and loss —   Hallelujah!
There His priceless blood,
Love's atoning flood,
Purchased peace with God —   Hallelujah!

Most high! Most exalted! Enthroned above all!
The Lord of Sabaoth is He.
His excellent name shall all nations extol,
The world His salvation shall see.
No end shall His kingdom have, steadfast His throne,
And His is the sceptre by right,
And every intelligent creature must own
His majesty, merit, and might.
Praise Him in the heights —   Hallelujah!
Empyreal lights —   Hallelujah!
Burning seraphim,
Flaming cherubim,
Raise the heavenly hymn —   Hallelujah!
Let the earth rejoice —   Hallelujah!
Oceans lift your voice —   Hallelujah!
Kings before Him fall,
Princes, one and all,
Own His gracious thrall —   Hallelujah!

As soft on the mown grass descendeth the rain
The pulses of nature to cool,
So shall He in righteousness mercy maintain,
His princes with justice shall rule.
His sceptre a shield from oppression shall be,
A covert from every distress,
As rivers of water in wastes flowing free,
As a rock in a parched wilderness.
Hark, the heavens cry, —   Hallelujah!
Earth makes glad reply,—   Hallelujah!
To creation's bound
The triumphant sound
Rolls all worlds around —   Hallelujah!
Glory give to God! —   Hallelujah!
Spread His praise abroad! —   Hallelujah!
His exploits recite,
Grace and truth and might,
Praise Him day and night —   Hallelujah!

The Great Day.

WHEN the Son of Man comes in His glory
With the angels of God in His train,
The heavens shall shake at His presence
And the wide earth shall tremble again.
At the tread of its mighty Creator
Creation shall quake to the soul,
From their chambers shall leap the red lightnings
And the thunders shall wrathfully roll.
And His saints shall be voicing
His praises, rejoicing
In holy accord.
And hosts throned in glory
Shall publish His story —
O fear ye the Lord!

O then every eye shall behold Him:
The nation which nailed to the tree
Their thorn-crowned and man-mocked Messiah
Him highly exalted shall see.
Let the blind sight receive for to see Him:
Let the deaf hear His heavenly voice:
Let the proud of heart fall at His footstool:
Let the meek in His mercy rejoice.
For His saints shall be voicing
His praises, rejoicing
In lofty accord,
And His marvellous story
Shall resound from the glory —
Exalt ye the Lord!

The heavens which gladly received Him
When the world in its hatred insane,
Led on by the fell fiend infernal,
Derided His title to reign,
Now swing back before Him their portals,
While panoplied potentates bow,
As through the blue dome He descendeth
With diadems bright on His brow.
And celestials are voicing
His praises, rejoicing
In glorious accord,
And His life-giving story
Bursts forth from the glory —
O praise ye the Lord!

Bow the knee in the dust low before Him:
Let stout-hearted warriors quail:
Let the wide world, assembled for judgment,
Its scarlet transgressions bewail:
For the kingdom, the might, and the glory,
By right unto Jesus belong.
Woe, woe to the soul who resists Him!
Woe, woe to the workers of wrong!
For His hosts are loud voicing
His praises, rejoicing
In loyal accord.
And His excellent story
Is heard from the glory —
Rejoice in the Lord!

As the sun which disperses the darkness
From hill-top and valley away,
And gladdens the heart of the weary
With the light and the comfort of day,
So drives He from spirits disheartened
The griefs of the earth sorrow-strawed,
And brings to the heart-broken mortal
The grace and the comforts of God.
And the earth is now voicing
His praises, rejoicing
In matchless accord;
While abroad goes His story
Encircled with glory —
Bless the name of the Lord!

Ye mountains, break forth into singing:
Ye storms, let your laughter be heard:
Ye oceans, exult in your gladness,
And firmament framed by His word.
Leap lightnings before your Creator:
Roll thunders your welcomes abroad:
Glad heart of blood-ransomed creation,
Shout aloud at the presence of God.
For ALL THINGS are now voicing
His praises, rejoicing
In lasting accord.
And His wonderful story
Is crowned by the glory —
O worship the Lord!


PASS on my soul: bright flash those lines of light,
Near, and more near,
Dispelling earth's dark shadows, and the night
Of gloom and fear:
Rays from yon sinless, deathless, heavenly home,
God's city glorious, and the world to come.

Fast fall the black night's shadows; from the deep
Vapours which kill
The soul arise; from the abyss they creep
O'er vale and hill.
Their noxious fumes fill the surrounding air,
And in their wake soul-slaughter everywhere.

What is there here to bind me and to hold
My soul in thrall?
The stolen waters, to the thirsty doled,
Have turned to gall;
And man must drink the nauseous alloy
Of death with every draught of creature joy.

Were Jesus here I would not wish to go,
For were I given
His company in exile here below,
Then earth were heaven;
But the Earth-Rejected turns my thoughts to where
The Heaven-Accepted sits exalted there.

My home is there where He Himself has gone —
He calleth me.
And through this wilderness I wander on,
In spirit free
From everything that holds the worldling bound,
To where my heart's affections rest have found.

All is light there, and life, and holy love,
And joy supreme
Above the flight of fancy, far above
The loftiest dream
Of creature happiness. Bliss only known
To those the Saviour claims and calls His own.

Attracted thither by that living light,
I onward haste.
Athwart my way love's rays, dispelling night,
Silver the waste;
Rays from that sinless, deathless, heavenly home,
God's city glorious, and the world to come.

In Hope.

LEADER of life, the eye of faith
Turns tear-bedimmed to Thee alone,
Who hast the keys of hell and death
In Thy strong hand upon the throne.

Supreme in death's dominion, Thou
Hast power to open and to close,
And we before Thy footstool bow,
Almighty Healer of our woes.

Our wordless grief into Thine ear
We sob and groan, for Thou canst save:
We only need to feel Thee near
Beside us by the open grave.

Thou knowest, Lord, the gnawing pain,
The fever fierce, the fiery dart,
The noxious mists which blind the brain,
The horrors which enfold the heart;

Thou knowest all our feebleness,
The tender ties of flesh and blood —
Be with us in our soul's distress
Amid the raging of the flood.

Our tears are blinding, and our loss,
With giant might would strangle faith —
O Lord, direct us to Thy cross,
And to Thy triumph over death,

And to the hour when Thou shalt wake
The quiet deep of death's domain,
When hades at Thy voice shall quake,
And all Thy saints shall rise again.

Not hopeless, Saviour, in the dust
Our well belov'd and Thine we lay,
Sure to come forth with all the just
When dawns the resurrection day.

We sow in tears, the harvest vast
Shall come with victor's shout and song —
Until the night of woe is past,
Jesus, be Thou our refuge strong.


LORD Thou hast cast me down. It is Thy hand.
That swift as thunder-flash has dealt the blow
That crushes me to earth; here could not stand
A giant under all this weight of woe.

My heart is weary, broken, sad and lone,
My heavy sighing cannot be supprest;
Not the vast universe could bid begone
The lonely vacant feeling in my breast.

Ye who would comfort me, what can ye give
That may for my great loss me compensate?
Will ye command that lifeless form to live?
And thus the ocean of my woes abate.

O powerless grief! No creature can command
One pulse of life through that cold, silent frame,
Or call the spirit from the spirit-land,
Or order health upon the cheek to flame.

Father, I take it from Thy hand. Thy rod
I bear submissively, while in the dust
I lay these ashes down, and in the God
Of love, and life, and resurrection trust.

I would not murmur; death is ours, and I
May lay its keen, sharp, glittering edge to this
Poor life which clings so close to earth, and die,
And live in spirit in Thy world of bliss.


READY, aye ready! What is there to keep me,
When Jesu's voice is sounding on mine ear?
Earth's links are broken. Do my kindred weep me?
None but my Saviour to my heart is dear.

Ready! Thy precious blood has made me whiter
Than falling snow, Thy love my heart has won;
Thy glorious company makes death's vale brighter
Than groves ambrosial underneath the sun.

Ready! With me there is no bitter rending
From earth, o'er which the mists of darkness roll;
Farewell, my heart said when first love was sending
Its currents through the channels of my soul.

Ready! Yea, Lord, for I am more than willing.
The veil across the face of earth is drawn;
The light of heaven my ransomed soul is filling,
The glory of an everlasting dawn.

Ready! I feel the touch of Thy blest fingers,
Dripping with myrrh, upon the silver cord.
Now free at last, my spirit only lingers
Impatient for the final parting word.

Ready! Behold, O Lord, no fetter binds me,
The earthy clod no more enslaves my soul;
The brightness of Thy fadeless glory blinds me,
And now I hear the fiery chariot roll.

Ready! the quivering flesh all strengthless lieth.
Speak, Lover of my soul, the longed-for word,
Then like the joyous lark that upward flieth,
My spirit shall with gladness greet Thee, Lord.


AWAKE, ye careless souls awake!
The day of grace is passing by,
The night of judgment draweth nigh,
In which the stoutest heart shall quake.

A night of death and darkness drear,
Without one ray of kindly light;
Not Egypt's plague had such a night
Of woe and curse and wrath and fear.

A night in which the wrathful sky
Shall pile huge clouds of blackness deep,
From which hot thunderbolts shall leap,
And shafts of lightning fiercely fly.

A night when the Omnipotent
Shall shake the heavens, as when the breeze
Through the wild wood shakes all the trees,
When quakes the earth and rocks are rent.

A night in which the Christless soul
Shall wake to find salvation's gate
For ever closed, and all too late
His tears of penitence shall roll.

A night in which the lawlessness
Of man shall from the Christ receive
Its final blow, and sin shall leave
The earth for God to rule and bless.

A night throughout whose moonless heart
No star shall send one living ray
Of hope to chase the gloom away
And to the mourners joy impart.

A night which never morn shall know,
Whose horror never shall have end,
Where gladsome voice shall never blend
With wail of everlasting woe.

A night which falls with crushing weight
Upon the mind and heart and brain;
Where the wild wolf upon the slain
His hunger fierce shall satiate.

A night to righteous vengeance given,
The plague-night of the curse of God;
Wrung with the cry, as falls the rod,
And with the shriek of anguish riven.

Grace, long despised, at length, at last,
Is here avenged, and man no more
Shall pass beyond the brazen door
To hope when once the port is passed.

Therefore awake, ye Christless souls!
O, hear the voice of mercy call!
Through cottage mean and palace hall
The heavenly music sweetly rolls.

That ye might live the Saviour died;
To wash you white He shed His blood.
The precious crimson cleansing flood
See flowing from His wounded side.

Love, boundless love, made manifest,
Love that no creature measure can;
The love of God to sinful man
In Jesu's precious blood expressed.

Forgiveness in His name is preached
To every son of Adam's race,
In God's unfathomable grace
Which to the chief of sinners reached.

Therefore awake from sleep, awake!
The day of grace is passing by,
The night of judgment draweth nigh
In which the stoutest heart shall quake.

The Father's Love.

FATHER on high, our souls rise up to Thee
Forth from our lips flow ceaseless songs of praise,
As graced in Thy Beloved, glad and free,
We bask in Thy great love's life-giving rays.

That love that from Thy heart, warm, strong and true,
Broke through the gloom of earth's long wintry night,
In Him who in Thy bosom dwelt, and knew
Its fulness, heavenly blessedness and might.

All that within the vail for ages long
In secret from our gaze was darkly pent,
Has now become the subject of our song,
For in the death of Christ the vail was rent.

And there Thy nature hitherto unknown,
Thy love, Thy truth, Thy grace and righteousness,
Have been declared, and in that radiant zone
Of light rise up our ravished hearts to bless.

O glorious light! whose every grateful ray
Hath power to cause the lifeless soul to live,
To turn the gloom of midnight into day,
And to the sorrowing spirit gladness give.

Love fathomless we bless in blessing Thee,
For Thou art LOVE! Our souls with wonder here
And joy unspeakable bow low the knee,
And worship in that cloudless atmosphere.

In, and with whom, we have been brought to Thee,
Through that great deed upon Golgotha done,
That fills our beating hearts with ecstasy.

Things for our glory Thou hast long prepared,
And e'en the world must learn how we are blest;
But when the heavens those secrets have declared,
Thy Bosom, Father, is our home and rest.

For Thou wouldst have us there Thee to adore,
Father supreme, Thy face in light to see,
Where everlasting pleasures dwell — yet more
Thy joy in us than all our joy in Thee.

Godhead and power divine the worlds declare,
Omnipotence surrounding us we see,
Thy wisdom speaks from heaven, earth and air,
But as OUR FATHER we draw near to Thee.

Sons with Thy Son! We have our part with Him —
Like Him before Thy face through endless days!
This fills our cup of blessing to the brim,
And wakes within us everlasting praise.

Feeble our song, but grateful to Thine ear
From hearts responsive to Thy holy love;
Thou lov'st the voices of Thy sons to hear
Resounding through Thy courts of light above.

Thou lovest us, for we have Jesus loved.
His grace to us how can it all be told?
In death's dread night of judgment fully proved
When o'er His soul wrath's billows darkly rolled.

Our hearts o'erflow! The volume of our praise,
Like to an ocean swells within our breast,
But fails the mortal tongue that song to raise
In which our bursting hearts would be expressed.

O holy, living Father! God of light,
And love, and peace, and truth, and righteousness!
With heart, and soul, and strength Thy saints unite,
Thy name — the Father's and the Son's to bless.

The Love of Christ.

BY Thy love divine,
Lord Jesus, we are Thine, bought by Thy blood;
Eternally Thine own, Thine, only Thine,
Son of the Living God.

And our soul's delight
To tell Thee of Thy changeless, matchless love,
On earth, in heaven, yea, when clothed in white
We walk with Thee above.

Of Thy love we boast,
Almighty Saviour, ever faithful Friend,
Love that at infinite and fearful cost
Proved changeless to the end.

Not that death which lay
Upon Thine own, nor curse, nor wrath, nor shame,
The mighty torrent of Thy love could stay —
Thou barest all the blame.

Not the storms of woe
That beat about Thy cross on Calvary's mount
Could drive Thy love's unfathomable flow
Backward into its fount.

All but served to bring
That love to light, which like a shoreless sea,
In one great wave broke over everything,
That held Thine own from Thee.

E'en the powers of hell
That stood between Thee, Saviour, and Thine own,
Pierced thro' by Thy sharp arrows, backward fell,
Broken and overthrown.

Thou hast fought the fight,
Saviour, the field is Thine, the foe has fled;
And we behold Thee in Thy glorious might
Victorious from the dead.

And the matchless love
That moved Thee for the rescue of Thine own
To leave the heavens, lives in Thy heart above,
Now Thou art on the throne.

And in courts of light
Thy voice is heard confessing we are Thine,
And we on earth ascribe to Thee the might —
Honour and power divine.

And though feeble here,
And faint upon our way, Thy heavenly grace
Shall prove sufficient for the desert drear
Until we see Thy face.

Then, Lord Jesus, then
The fruit of Thy soul's travail Thou shalt see —
The men for whom Thy blood was shed, the men
Thy Father gave to Thee.

With Thee where Thou art,
Within the Father's house in glory great,
Where Thy deep love, declared in death, each heart
With joy shall animate.

It is desert now,
And darkness deepens, and around us fall
Fell fiery darts, but in the midnight Thou
About us art a wall.

And we need no more.
We wait till in those halls of living light
We shall sit down with Thee where — labour o'er —
There shall be no more night.

The Great Shepherd.

REJOICE, O my friends, sing the song of salvation!
My sheep, to which death and destruction laid claim,
Far over the wilderness wide I have followed
Through snares and through suffering, sorrow and shame.
What deserts I've traversed, through thirst, cold and hunger;
What bitter blasts, merciless, pregnant with woes;
What trials, distresses, fierce, fiery temptations,
No creature can fathom, no language disclose.

Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

My joy your rejoicing let be:
I have brought from the wilds home the wand'rer —
Rejoice, My companions, with Me!
There is joy in the halls of high heaven,
Rejoicing that knoweth no end;
There is mirth, there is music and dancing —
Rejoice, O My friends, with your Friend!

I climbed the bleak mountain, where shorn of all shelter
The inky cloud swathed Me in darkness profound;
O'er My head all defenceless the thunder rolled wrathful,
And the brow of the black night with fury was crowned:
The lightnings fierce flashed, raved around Me in madness
Fell legions entrenched in their strongholds of gloom;
Their fiery darts fell like the hail in mid winter,
But I made for that foe of their fortress a tomb.
Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

I entered the wild wood, unspeakable horrors
Glared forth from their fastnesses threatning My way;
The pestilence walking the pathless night sought Me,
In wait for My life the leviathan lay.
Through thickets of thorns, wildernesses bewildering,
Through tangle where howled the wild wolf from his lair,
Through vales of red raven, by caves of corruption,
Where thrilled through the welkin the wail of despair.
Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

Across My path oceans impassable weltered;
I sank where the tempest-tossed billows did roll,
And where deep called to deep amid cataracts roaring
The waters of death found their way to My soul.
The earth with it bars closed about Me for ever;
I cried but My voice seemed to enter no ear;
I went down through the deep to the roots of the mountains,
And sheol with all its grim terrors drew near.
Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

I sank in deep mire, lone, abandoned, forsaken;
Nor in earth nor in heaven compassion I found;
I drank to the dregs the deep chalice of judgment,
While the curse shook the caverns of chaos around.
I tasted death's waters, offensive and bitter,
Yet dared I to drink, for the lost I would save.
My great love upheld Me, strong, infinite, quenchless,
And for My lost sheep I went down to the grave.
Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

Then the pillars of earth trembled: strongholds infernal,
Proud citadels, thrones of the nethermost hell,
Huge battlements, dungeons of death and destruction,
With all their dread armaments tottered and fell,
And far through the heart of the midnight, with slaughter,
I chased in hot anger the arrogant crew,
Till the deep-throated chasm of darkness devoured them;
Then from the deep waters My ransomed I drew.
Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

Mine own have I rescued from ruin eternal,
My blood have I shed for the life of My sheep;
What creature on earth or in heaven shall challenge
My right My redeemed one in safety to keep?
No more shall it wander I live to preserve it,
I know every step of the wilderness way;
With pure living fountains shall teem the dry desert,
And soft verdant pasture-lands hunger shall stay.
Rejoice, O rejoice, ye who love Me!

I have tasted all sorrow, the depths I have sounded,
I have felt every weakness that mortal may feel,
I know every grief to which man can be subject,
And I know God's great love which has virtue to heal.
No anguish exists to which I am a stranger,
Except that which springs from rebellious will;
I know how to succour the tried and the tempted,
And am able the heart with salvation to fill.
Rejoice then, rejoice, ye who love Me!

I can save to the uttermost all who will trust Me;
My arm is almighty, My staff and My rod
Shall comfort the feeble mind, cheer the faint hearted,
And bear each lamb safe to the bosom of God.
I know each by name, and My sheep know their Shepherd;
My voice and Mine only they joyfully hear;
They know that to death and the grave I have loved them,
And that, living or dying, they've nothing to fear.

Rejoice then, rejoice, ye who love Me!
The lost seek, the captive set free;
Spread the news of eternal salvation,
Give the wide world a welcome from Me.
There is joy in the halls of high heaven,
Rejoicing that knoweth no end;
There is mirth, there is music and dancing,
Rejoice, O My friends, with your Friend!

The Morning Star.

THE Morning Star
Is seen afar
While men are sleeping,
By virgins who
The world's night through
A watch are keeping.

His silent tread
On cloudy bed
My soul is hearing.
His faithful few
To Jesus true
Their rest are nearing.

He comes! And lo,
His own, who know
His voice so charming,
To glory haste
From tomb and waste
And scenes alarming.

O glorious hour!
Almighty power
Together bringing
The precious dust
Whose every trust
To Christ was clinging.

From hill and dell,
From gloomy cell
Of death's dark prison,
The shining throng
With deathless song
In glory risen,

Ascend to meet,
And kiss the feet
Of Him who for them
His blood did spill,
And o'er all ill
So safely bore them.

The false are left
Of hope bereft
With bitter wailing,
And earnest prayer
That life to share
All unavailing.

'Tis now too late,
Salvation's gate
Is closed for ever,
And those who would
Despise the blood
Shall enter never.

True joys are there;
Inside they share
Eternal glory,
And joyfully
For ever they
Shall sing His story.

Their night is past
And trouble's blast
And every sorrow;
In love's own bond
For them has dawned
A glorious morrow.

This world of strife
Is changed for life
Without a ruffle;
No tear to hide,
No pain to bide,
No moan to muffle.

That pierced hand
Hath led the band
Through waste and river;
That faithful heart
Hath given a part
That fadeth never.

That matchless love
That erst did prove
Than death still stronger,
Without alloy
They shall enjoy
When time's no longer.

No night is there
To bring despair —
One day eternal:
Beyond the gloom,
Beyond the tomb,
And powers infernal.

All things are new,
Spotless and true.
The life of Jesus
Pervades the scene,
And hark, the pean
Of holy praises.

With raptured eyes
I view the skies
With glory flooded;
Beneath His feet
God's judgments beat
The world sin-loaded.

To yawning grave,
Wave after wave
Of wrath is sweeping
The godless proud,
Mid thunders loud
And lightnings leaping.

Hot bolts are sent
From battlement
And tower of heaven:
Through stony hearts
Jehovah's darts
Are swiftly driven.

The reeling earth
Sees but the birth
Of pestilences;
Each day doth close
In blood, with woes
Each day commences.

Each sun goes down
'Neath heaven's frown,
And thus arises;
The day is drear,
And sudden fear
The night surprises.

But from this storm,
Afar from harm
And all temptation,
This scene of blood,
And whelming flood
Of tribulation,

Christ's spotless Bride
For whom He died
Is in His keeping;
Her gladsome part
With Him, her heart
With joy up-leaping.

But those who heard
The living word
In gospel story,
And yet despised
The love of Christ,
For earthly glory;

Whose lips could frame
To speak His name
And, Lord, to call Him;
Who sat with those
Whose hearts arose
In worship solemn;

In Satan's thrall
They pass through all
Earth's woe and sorrow,
Till they alight
In hopeless night
Which knows no morrow.

They now must hear
With helpless fear
Their doom for ever —
"Accursed be ye
Depart from Me;
I knew you never."

Vain all regret,
Their sun has set,
Wrath's vapours veil them;
Afar from light
In rayless night
None shall bewail them.

O fools and blind,
To set the mind
On things which perish;
Love to refuse,
And wrath to choose,
Hatred to cherish!

O woeful crime
To spend the time
In serving folly,
And golden days
In wilful ways
With sin to sully!

While from above
God speaks in love
With faithful warning,
O sinner say,
In mercy's day,
Why only scorning?


"I HAVE Christ: what want I more? "
Stay beside her bed of straw
Laid upon the garret floor,
Till her latest breath she draw.
Radiant face lit up with praise,
Hosts of heaven are bending o'er:
Call me never poor," she says:
"I have Christ: what want I more? "

"I have Christ: what want I more? "
Christ for life, and Christ for death;
Christ as night is gathering o'er
Fainting heart and failing breath.
Fevered pulse, lips parched and dry,
Burning hands and throbbing head,
But my Well-Belov'd is nigh,
God Himself hath made my bed.

"I have Christ: what want I more?"
Shall He leave me here alone —
He who stooped to be so poor,
Died to make me all His own?
Jesus my Belov'd! My Lord!
Thou art with me very near.
Sweet Thy promise, sure Thy word.
Guard my heart from every fear.

"I have Christ: what want I more? "
What, though water fail and bread;
What though bare and hard the floor,
Scant my covering, sick my head —
Jesus folds me to His heart,
Spreads His mantle o'er me so,
Frost of death, and fiery dart,
These my soul shall never know.

"I have Christ: what want I more?"
Only this, to hear Him say,
With His hand upon the door,
"Rise my loved one, come away."
Throbbing heart be still as death,
Wake my ear His voice to catch,
Close my eyelids, stop my breath,
My Belov'd my sleep shall watch.

"I have Christ: what want I more? "
Thus she lived, thus passed away.
Mourn her? Never! Shut the door —
Kneel beside her — let us pray —
Pray that God may show us Christ
As He sees Him, as she saw.
Shall He then by gold be priced
Earthly honour, vain eclat?

"I have Christ: what want I more? "
Hast thou got an aching void?
He can make thy cup run o'er
With a deep eternal tide.
Christ for time — eternity —
Christ for heart, for treasure, store;
Christ for life, for death, for me —
"I have Christ: what want I more?"


FOUNTAIN of life! Victorious Lord!
Who us from righteous wrath to save,
Didst bare Thy bosom to the sword,
And lifeless lay within the grave;

Faint at Thy feet we humbly bow
For succour in our hour of grief,
For none in earth or heaven but Thou
To broken hearts can bring relief.

Thou hast in lowly grace come near
From Thine exalted seat above,
And we have heard and seen Thee here
In Thine unfathomable love.

In our afflictions taking part,
Tried in our tribulations sore,
To soothe the sorrow at our heart,
And bid us, Saviour, weep no more.

Revealer of the living God.
Thou hast amid this godless gloom
The heavenly light dispersed abroad,
And with its glory graced the tomb.

But what it cost Thee, creature tongue
Can never tell — the grief, the woe,
The wrath Thy tender heart that wrung
Was without measure — this we know.

If Thou to human hearts wouldst bring
The radiance of that living light,
Thy soul must feel of death the sting,
Whelmed in a God-forsaken night.

If Thou wouldst dry our tearful eyes,
Thine own with floods of grief must flow;
If ours be joy that never dies,
The woe and sorrow Thou must know.

None felt as Thou the load which lay
With all its crushing weight on us;
We've heard Thee, Lord, in Bethany
Sob at the grave of Lazarus.

But when we were by death undone,
In Thine unfathomable grace
Thou hast the battle fought and won
And spoiled the spoiler of our race.

We see Thee now beyond the grave,
Beyond rejection, toil, and strife,
Able to sympathise and save,
The Resurrection and the Life.

And unto Thee we come, and bring
Our bruised and bleeding hearts, and sigh,
And shelter underneath Thy wing,
Son of the living God most High.

We've laid within the house of death
Our flesh and blood, a child of days,
But at the threshold feeble faith
Hath failed to justify Thy ways.

For black and starless was the night
In which despair, black-browed and blind,
Hammered with more than mortal might
At the frail gateway of the mind.

But hope, the heavenly star, at length
Laced the ungracious cloud with gold,
And God's great love in glorious strength
The mists from the horizon rolled.

We saw that Thou hadst entered where
Death's whelming waters wrathful rose,
And in Thy greatness, then and there,
Annulled the cause of all our woes.

For through the inky flood a road
Dry as the desert Thou hast made;
And for Thy keeping, Son of God,
Our darling in the dust we've laid.

The keys of hades and of death
Are in Thy hand, we've naught to dread.
Strengthen, O Lord, our feeble faith,
Safe in Thy keeping is our dead.

Soon shall the grave the trumpet hear,
Thy voice its pillars strong shall shake;
And he, for whom the scalding tear
Bedims our vision, shall awake,

And in Thy likeness rise again
To live with Thee in spotless light,
Where comes no more death, woe, or pain,
Or sorrow, grief, or cloud of night.

To this bright hope our spirits cling,
And in the furnace fierce can say —
Exulting:— "Death where is thy sting?
"O grave where is thy victory "

Lord Jesus, to us sanctify
This sore affliction; give us grace
Firm on Thyself to fix the eye
Of faith, until we see Thy face;

Till, as his day the hireling fills,
Our weary way has all been trod,
And we have reached, secure from ills,
The Father's house, and rest of God.

The Grace of the Lord Jesus.

SON of the love of God! Creator good!
In Thine essential being past our ken;
Yet here among us found in flesh and blood,
For Thy delights were with the sons of men.

Oh, infinite descent! By love impelled,
As wondrous, measureless as that descent;
Love that could not in secret bliss be held,
But found in Thy humiliation vent.

By Thee the countless worlds were formed, for Thee —
For Thine own pleasure hast Thou made them all,
The starry host, the earth, the soundless sea,
And all their fulness, creatures great and small.

Yet hast Thou stooped a Servant to become,
And in weak human nature taken part —
How precious are Thy thoughts! How great the sum!
How boundless the compassions of Thy heart!

Thy ruined creature man, the slave of sin,
From Thy high heaven in mercy Thou didst see,
And Thou didst stoop his worthless heart to win,
And set him from the proud oppressor free.

Unfathomable grace! We Thee behold,
Not clothed in grandeur, not in royal state,
But lowly born, among earth's poor enrolled,
And set at naught by noble grand and great.

Within Thy body tabernacled God,
The fulness of the Godhead dwelt in Thee;
In Thy lone, patient pathway, blessing-strawed,
The grace of the Invisible we see.

Oh, heavenly radiance! spirit-gladdening rays!
The light of God, begetting life divine
In withered hearts. Blest in that light we praise,
And shout for joy as those refreshed with wine.

Jesus, we hail Thee! Sweetest name on earth,
Or in the heights above to such as we!
Dear to our hearts, so weak, so little worth,
But worth Thy sorrow and Thy cross to Thee!

We follow Thee through all Thy ways of grace
Amid the dwellings of Thy creature lost;
Adoringly Thy patient pathway trace,
By carping creature's contradiction crossed.

Upon the dust of earth Thy blessed feet
Traced underneath the living Father's eye
A perfect human life, with love replete
For fallen sons of Adam doomed to die.

What distance Thou hast spanned! From circling light,
Within which foot of mortal never trod,
Down through the gloomy wastes and womb of night
To death and the abandonment of God.

Creator of the worlds! O'erwhelming thought
That Thou in weakness shouldst be with us here!
Despised, reproached, rejected, set at nought,
In Thy great love's compassionate career.

That Thou shouldst tread that God-forsaken road,
Through blackness, darkness, death, dishonour, shame,
When staggered earth beneath the awful load
Of her almighty Maker's lifeless frame;

When glorious day ashamed slunk out of sight,
When shuddered the creation to the soul,
When terror-struck the sun withdrew his light,
And midnight o'er the face of nature stole;

When rocks were rent, when sobbed the wretched land,
Quaking with terror, when the homeward crowd
Beat at their guilty breasts with vengeful hand,
And woke the world with lamentations loud;

When temple's veil from top to bottom torn,
And pagan lips by the dark tree of blood,
And gaping graves, of all their victory shorn,
Cried "Truly this Man was the Son of God!"

But Thou hast laid the power of evil low,
The love of God in death's dark dungeons shed,
Victorious over every hostile foe
Thou livest, Saviour, from among the dead.

At God's right hand, upon the Father's throne,
In radiant spheres of everlasting light;
Thee Lord of all the hosts of heaven own
And praise Thee principality and might.

And we are Thine, the fruit of all Thy toil,
Brands Thou hast plucked from the devouring flame;
Of Thy world-famous victories the spoil,
Dragged from the deepest depths of sin and shame,

To be Thy brethren, Thy companions, where
The Father's love fills every beating heart;
With Thee eternal blessedness to share
And see Thee, glorious Saviour, as Thou art

That glorious day when Thou shalt be revealed
Draws on apace; the nations of the earth
Obedience to the King of kings shall yield,
And sorrow shall be changed to songs of mirth.

And all the universe with gladsome voice
To Thee the Lord of glory shall give praise,
And Thy redeemed around Thee shall rejoice
Where Godhead brightness shall uncurtained blaze.

This earth, delivered from the grievous thrall
Of evil, shall rejoice in sweet accord
With heaven, and every living creature shall
With exultation cry out, "Praise the Lord!"

A Contrast.

IN the counsels of the Father,
In the Person of the Christ,
In the faith of those who gather
To the Lord by grace enticed,

There exists a city gleaming
In the golden light of God,
Where from fount of love are streaming
Health and happiness abroad.

There the voice of bitter weeping,
Sorrow's voice, is never heard;
Here the grace of God is keeping
Those for whom it is prepared.

Home of glory! Crystal river!
Gate of pearl! Pure golden street!
Trod by feet defiling never,
Never trod by mortal feet.

Shall my pen be found comparing
Earthly glories with that place?
In its light was Eden sharing?
Saw it Adam? Not a trace.

Here on earth am I beholding
Spots of beauty wond'rous fair,
Every morning is unfolding
Radiant glories rich and rare.

In this land a thousand splendours
Pass before me every day,
And my heart rejoicing renders
Thanks to God upon my way.

E'en the smallest things in nature
Power and wisdom both combine,
And in wond'rous ways the creature
Makes the Godhead glory shine.

When the evening shades were darkling
I have passed the lily by,
Watched the dewdrop like a sparkling
Ruby in its bosom lie,

And have heard His word, whose story
Sets the weary heart at ease: —
"Solomon in all his glory
Was not robed like one of these."

Hill and vale before my vision
Rise in all their grandeur great,
Faithful to their glorious mission,
Witness to the Increate.

I have thought of lands far distant
Where perennial summer smiles,
And to carols soft have listened
Breaking from perfumed defiles;

Vine and fig and palm tree flourish,
Nature sheds profuse her store,
Swarthy sons of Shem to nourish
Home of beauty! Sunny shore!

And I've passed on fancy's pinions
Where eternal winter piles
Round her desolate dominions
Mounds of ice like floating isles.

There where lingering night dejected,
With the frost upon her wings,
Sullen sits, like sun reflected,
Nature shafts of glory flings

Through the heart of darkness, riven
By this marvellous device,
Shimmering on the face of heaven
O'er eternal fields of ice;

And I've thought, of God how gracious,
Where the night lives half a year,
That He should, this light so precious,
Make through mantling clouds appear.

I have seen the sun arising
From his bed of purple light,
And the shades of night surprising
Put like giants great to flight.

And I've seen him drop at even
Into yellow seas of gold,
Leaving on the brow of heaven
Stars whose number is untold.

And on one and then the other
I have looked when slept the night,
Watched with wonderment and awe their
Flaming moons and belts of light;

And I've said: — "His hand has made them,"
Guided by eternal skill,
And in diverse robes arrayed them,
Set them thus to do His will.

And when they have served His pleasure,
Like a dream they'll pass away;
All their brightness, all their treasure,
All their glory, shall decay.

But this city fadeth never,
Bright it beams in every part;
Wall, and gate, and street, and river,
The creation of His heart.

Home of glory! New creation!
Radiant with love divine,
Safe from sin's accursed invasion —
Home of Jesus! Home of mine!

Living stones with glory blazing
In the golden light of God,
Countless thousands loudly praising
Him who washed them in His blood.

'Tis our God and Father's dwelling,
'Tis His children gathered home,
Brought, with shouts of triumph swelling,
From the desert and the tomb.

Once all helpless, sunk in ruin,
Once — but rescued ere they fell —
Bubbles recklessly pursuing
On the horrid brink of hell.

Once by Satan downward driven
Willing on destruction's road,
Toward the pit of darkness riven
By the righteous curse of God.

But by God beheld and pitied,
Loved, but who that love can tell?
Cleansed by Jesus' blood and fitted
In the rest of God to dwell.

Perfected in form and feature,
All with heaven in blest accord;
God shall see His once lost creature
In the likeness of his Lord.

There for ever and for ever
They shall walk in spotless white,
Where a cloud of night shall never
Dim the glory of that light.

Jesus Christ the sun and centre
Of that universe of love;
Happy those decreed to enter
Through those gates of pearl above.

There's a place where voice of weeping
Thrills through everlasting night;
Night which adds to grief, while veiling
Untold miseries from sight.

Place by mercy undiscovered,
Needed succour there to bring;
In that region ne'er has hovered
Hope with sunlight on her wing.

Lamentation, bitter weeping,
Brought by memory to birth;
Man for ever, ever reaping
Sin's sad harvest sown on earth.

There infernal hosts are banished,
There shall rebels be confined;
Vanished every comfort, vanished
Every prospect of the mind.

Drivelling foes of revelation,
Yet, alas, their own worst foes,
From the map of all creation
Would erase this place of woes;

But as sure as there's that city
With the light of God arrayed,
There's this place from which His pity
Lifts not everlasting shade.

Now, thou poor benighted sinner,
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee,
By those heights of highest honour,
By those depths of misery;

By the deep despair of dying
Hopeless, Christless, and alone;
By His love all thought defying,
By His cross and by His throne.

Trifle not: the shadows lengthen,
And the night of woe and fear,
That eternal night of weeping,
Canst thou tell thy soul how near?

That long night which knows no morning,
Night of everlasting pain;
Joys in memory returning,
Reappear to mock thee then.

Indignation, woe eternal,
Tribulation, anguish, wrath,
Treasured up for things infernal
Gather darkly o'er thy path.

Worldling tell me, man of pleasure,
Tell me ye who seek for gold,
Can ye safe your vaunted treasure
Through the fires of judgment hold?

Tell me, will it give you pleasure
Then to know that once you fled
Far from love that knows no measure
To the dwellings of the dead?

Will your idol wealth then hanker
After you to ease your dole?
No, the rust will as a canker
Burn and blister in your soul.

Sinner, hear the voice of warning,
Trust in Jesu's precious blood,
For the heart of God is yearning
Over thee to do thee good.

In that heart thou'st never trusted
There's a welcome e'en for thee;
Proof is given of what is boasted
In God's Son upon the tree.

See that suffering, bleeding, dying,
Lamb of God, for sinners slain;
In the grave behold Him lying,
See Him rise in power again;

On the throne behold Him seated,
Glory-crowned, but who can tell
All the worth of that completed
Work, which vanquished death and hell?

'Twas the heart of God that gave Him,
More than this He could not give;
He is Thine, if Thou wilt have Him —
Look to Him. Believe and live.

The Heart's Desire.

LORD Jesus, blest Son of the Father, as nearing
The end of our pilgrimage, weary and worn,
Thy footfall on cloud-land we long to be hearing,
We long to behold Thee, Bright Star of the Morn.

As the wayfarer lone upon bleak pathless mountains
Looks earnestly eastward for signals of day;
As the thirsty soul, desert bound, faints for the fountains,
To drive from his heart the hot fever away:

So lift we our eyes to the blue dome above us,
Where saw Thy disciples their Lord disappear;
So faint we to see Thee who loved and will love us,
In life as in death, in the glory as here.

It may be that weak is our warmest affection,
That the glitter of earth has bedazzled the eye;
It may be in much there's been sorry defection.
That our ways to our words oft have given the lie.

As the compass subjected to counter attraction,
For the moment may seem to the pole-star untrue;
So the world with suggestions of soul-satisfaction
May have caused us to swerve from the prospect in view.

But in spite of our moments of sad oscillation,
Our woeful consent to the world and its ways,
Our wretched retreat before hostile invasion,
Our blindness amid this religious maze,

We love Thee — have loved Thee — have longed to behold Thee
Since the moment we heard of Thine excellent name.
How dear Thou art to us, how oft we have told Thee,
Our hearts with Thy holy affections aflame.

Not yet have we seen Thee; Thy fame we have heard it,
The fight Thou hast fought and the field Thou hast won;
Thy reproach, we have borne it; Thy shame we have shared it—
Our richest inheritance under the sun.

We, the fruit of Thy soul's all unspeakable sorrow,
For whom in the dungeon of death Thou hast lain,
Look longingly upward for tokens of morrow,
And ceaselessly cry for Thy coming again.

No home in this waste have we found since we knew Thee,
Since first fell Thy heavenly voice on our ear;
Since we tasted Thy grace thought-surpassing, which drew Thee
To walk through the valley of death with us here.

Belov'd of our souls! Well Belov'd of the Father!
Omnipotent Saviour, Redeemer, and Guide,
O come, and from waste and from wilderness gather
Thy loved ones for whom Thou hast suffered and died.

O come with Thy shout, Lord, triumphant, victorious,
With the voice of archangel and trumpet of God:
Call us hence to those halls of light, radiant, glorious,
That home of our hearts, love's eternal abode.

Christ Everything.

SON of the living God, supreme
In earth and heaven above,
Crowned where angelic glories gleam,
Where in eternal brightness beam
The Father's grace and love.

With my whole heart I will Thee praise,
Nor shall I silent be;
While I have power my voice to raise,
Throughout my earthly pilgrim days
My song shall be of Thee.

The world through which my journey lies
To Thy bright rest above
Spreads all its charms before mine eyes,
My soul with tinsel to entice
That I from Thee might rove.

And for the life that Thou hast given
No nourishment I find,
Save that which falleth down from heaven,
Whence through the veil of byssus riven
The light of love hath shined.

Here burning sands my footsteps greet
Upon my pilgrim way;
The naked waste gives no retreat
From furious foe, or fiery heat,
Or sanguinary fray.

Thou art my shelter, living Lord,
The bread on which I feed,
My rock with living water stored —
For ever be Thy name adored.
My soul can know no need.

Yea, Thou art everything to me,
Star of the morning bright.
Thy love declared in death I see,
Thy glory and Thy victory,
In resurrection might.

Thou hast the Father's name declared,
The Father's love hast shown,
And I Thy heavenly voice have heard,
Thy powerful life-imparting word,
My inmost soul hath known.

What is the garish world to me —
Its tinsel and its joys?
Thy glory and Thy grace I see,
My soul is satisfied with Thee,
And earth no more annoys.

Christ Only.

HEAR CHRIST, that formed by Him thou mayest be;
THINK CHRIST, for as a man thinks, such is he;
LIVE CHRIST, that all men Him in thee may see;
SPEAK CHRIST, that all may hear of Him through thee:

So shalt thou please the heart of Him who planned,
Before were fashioned heaven, sea, or land,
That thou among His many sons should stand,
Like Jesus, Chief and Firstborn of the band:

So shall ungrieved the Holy Spirit be,
To give thee power the unseen things to see,
And in His high and holy office free
To work the blessed will of God in thee:

So shalt thou be a tower of strength to those
Who in a lonely land beset by foes,
And fainting underneath their weight of woes,
Their souls to every fiery dart expose:

So shalt thou be in this dark world a light
To guide through the dark mazes of the night
The painful footsteps of the pilgrim right
To where the ransomed walk with Christ in white.

And when the desert path has all been trod,
And when no more is needed staff or rod;
When from celestial heights thou lookst abroad,
How sweet to thee shall be the rest of God.

Praise Him.

ARISE my soul, awake with voice of praise
The earth, the sea, the vault of heaven above.
To God salvation's song triumphant raise,
Extol His grace and thought-surpassing love.

Sing till the angels hear, faithful and fell.
Praise Him who gave His Son to succour thee;
On earth to every human being tell
How Jesus died to set the sinner free.

In life, in death, in resurrection might,
In height, in depth, in deserts everywhere;
Morning, or noon, or evening, or night,
Ceaseless the riches of His grace declare.

Praise Him, whatever be thy earthly lot.
The glory shines before thee, O my soul!
Praise Him with all thy powers. Who would not
His boundless and eternal love extol?

He Maketh the Storm a Calm.

JESUS, Saviour, Son of God, I fain would cast my soul on Thee,
Knowing that Thou ever livest, keepest vigil over me.
I am wilful, wayward, frail, and full of sinful foolishness,
Prone to confidence in self more than I know or can express,
Grieving oft Thy Holy Spirit by my crooked, carnal ways,
So that unto lamentation oft gives place the voice of praise.
But to Thee would I draw near and tell what no one else may hear,
All my faults and fears and failings, pour my griefs into Thine ear;
Though Thou knowest, not the fragments of my life, but Lord, the whole;
For Thine eye has searched the hidden secrets of my inmost soul;
And, of Thine omniscience conscious, all my care on Thee I roll.

Be Thou near me, Holy Saviour, when the sun shines on my path,
Even as when evil clouds about me gather threatening wrath;
When the storms assail my bark, and lightnings play across the prow,
And to swallow up my life the hungry ocean yawns, be Thou
Near me, Lord, that I may contemplate the peace upon Thy brow.

Be Thou with me in the black night, when the waves are swelling high,
Making thunder in the deep, and flinging foam against the sky,
When to right, or left, or forward, or behind, no earthly ray
Cheers the murky gloom that mantles all my solitary way;
Be Thou then my light, Lord Jesus, be my sun, my moon, my star,
Shedding beams of glory bright upon my pathway from afar,
Earthly fogs and mists dispelling, which my prospect bright would mar.

Hold my hand in Thine, my Saviour, hold me firmly, let me feel
Of Thy love the strong pulsations through my fainting spirit steal.
Succour me, when from the heavenward path my tottering steps would reel.

If I only feel the pressure of Thy hand omnipotent
Which was pierced when for my sinful soul Thy holy flesh was rent,
If I know that Thou art leading, and Thy well-known voice I hear,
Let the way be what it may, peaceful or begirt with fear,
I shall dread no demon, devil, principality, or power.
When the hosts of darkness close about me, this shall be my hour;
In Thy might they shall be broken, conquered, scattered, made to flee;
Like to chaff before the fury of the tempest they shall be,
And my soul triumphant shall ascribe the glory unto Thee.

Thou hast told me, if I trust Thee I shall surely win the fight,
Not by creature craft and cunning, human prowess, valour, might;
Greater ten times are the foes which do my heavenly way withstand
Than the forces I to meet them can at any time command:
Hence not on the arm of flesh would I for victory depend,
But upon Thy strength, almighty Saviour, Succourer, and Friend,
Heavenly Guide, Redeemer glorious, Lover, faithful to the end.

From the deep Thou wilt deliver, from the jaws of death and hell.
I commit me to Thy keeping from the wrath of angels fell.
Thou wilt be my bread and water, my support throughout the way;
Thou wilt be my rod and staff, my shield and shelter night and day:
E'en until the SUN OF RIGHTEOUSNESS, with healing in His wings,
Round about the world the golden strands of love immortal flings,
And the great glad ransomed universe with "HALLELUJAH" rings.

The Same.

AMID the countless worlds which through
The depths of the pellucid blue
Their paths circuitous pursue,
His throne is set.

About His footstool bright they flame,
He knows their nature, number, name,
Mass, gravity, age, orbit, frame,

Their belts and rings and moons He made,
And here and there, their coasts to aid,
Is placed against all hostile raid,
A strong vedette.

Before our vision, huge; before
His, as the sand upon the shore:
Each world an atom, nothing more,
A globulet.

Yet from each scintillating sphere
Is wafted worship to His ear,
Euphonious, ravishing to hear,
In chansonnette.

And men in every clime they call
His power and Godhead to extol,
Who by His wisdom made them all,
Sun and lunette.

Yet shall their comeliness decay,
Their primal brightness fade away,
And time's rough wear and tear shall fray,
Corrode and fret.

But He who made them shall abide,
He who for our transgressions died,
Who, pierced through hands, and feet, and side,
Discharged our debt.

He shall abide, when living light
Has put the gloom of death to flight,
And banished far the black-browed night,
With sorrow wet.

He shall abide, when, winter fled,
Summer shall endless glories shed,
And man no more shall earn his bread
With toil and sweat.

He shall abide, when we shall stand
Within that cloudless glory-land,
When the blood-ransomed heavenly band
Their Lord have met.

And round about His feet for aye
Worlds shall pursue their shining way,
And earth shall in that glorious day
Her woes forget.

He shall abide, and we shall see
Creation bend to Him the knee.
And, as we would, with glad hearts, we
Shall praise Him yet.

For in our Father's house above,
Lost in His everlasting love,
His favour boundless we shall prove
Without a let.


Isaiah 53:6.

"THE LORD" hath done it: 'twas not left to me.
One of a thousand I could not have told.
But He who knew beforehand what would be,
Their judgment on my mighty Saviour rolled.
And from their toil and Satan's cruel hold
His precious blood has set my spirit free.
And now in the omniscient One rejoicing
My soul for ever would His praise be voicing.

"HATH LAID": it is not something to be done.
It is not now an unaccomplished hope.
I wait not for a promised powerful One
With the destroyer of our race to cope,
And death's dark doleful prison door to ope',
And lead me out into the noonday sun;
But all is done; Golgotha is behind me,
In glories bathed, which by their brightness blind me.

"ON HIM": Jehovah, come in grace to save,
The Sole-begotten of the living God.
Who else had breasted that almighty wave
Of whelming wrath and death's devouring flood,
Or borne the blows of the avenging rod
Which in the hour of judgment justice gave?
Alone He bore the stroke of the Eternal,
Alone He battled with the powers infernal.

"THE INIQUITY," those sins of deepest dye,
Their crimson flaming in the face of heaven,
Which far for ever from His holy eye
Me to eternal torment would have driven;
But from His blessed side, by spear-thrust riven
Welled that deep tide by which I am brought nigh.
The blood declares a perfect expiation,
The water witnesses my soul's lavation.

"OF US": blest objects of His holy love,
To whom is granted faith by which we lay
Fast hold on Him who come from heaven above
Was here on earth the wonderful display
Of Him who dwelling in unclouded day,
To man His loving kindness yearned to prove.
Ours were the sins, O great and glorious Saviour,
Thou'st borne the blame of our unjust behaviour.

"ALL": let the clouds of unbelief depart,
Like shadows from the presence of the dawn.
Vanish ye vapours which enfold the heart,
As clouds of night before Hyperion.
And in the bosom of that blessed One
Let me be hidden from the fiery dart.
No soul that trusts in Him shall ever perish.
Those by His death set free His love shall cherish.

Oh, praise the grace which stooped so very low
To pick such objects from the mire of sin,
And whiter far than e'en the falling snow
In heart and conscience make their souls within.
Born from above, of His own clime and kin,
His advent we await that we may go
With Him to Love's own dwelling which is fitted
For all who by His cross have been acquitted.

The Voice of Jesus.

HARK, I hear a voice from heaven
Like to bells celestial tolled,
Or immortal hosts awaking
Twice ten thousand harps of gold;
High above the noise of nations
Battling o'er the earth abroad,
Louder than the ceaseless tumult
Of a world away from God —

"I have loved thee, I have loved thee,
All thy creature thoughts above;
I have loved thee, I have loved thee
With an everlasting love.

"From the courts of light I saw thee
Bound by Satan, death and sin;
Came compassionate to loose thee,
Liberty for thee to win;
Brought with Me the light of heaven
And the grace and love of God,
Gave My life for thy redemption,
Death's deep fastness for thee trod.

I have loved thee, etc.

"Doubt it not. Behold, My sorrow
Lone Gethsemane shall tell;
Where in view of wrath I grappled
With the prince and powers of hell.
Bid the grave tell out the secret,
Where thy Lord for thee has been;
Ask thy thousand dark offences
What Mine agonies may mean.

I have loved thee, etc.

"Ask the lords of gloom and darkness
Smitten thro' to set thee free;
Desolation, death, destruction —
Ask these, they have heard of Me.
Heard of Me when indignation
Clothed with black the brow of heaven,
Tempests raved, and thunders rumbled,
Rocks were rent, and earth was riven.

I have loved thee, etc.

"Doubtest thou My deep compassion?
See it in yon purple tide,
Cross, and curse, cloud-swathed Golgotha,
Wounded hands, and feet, and side.
What remains still unaccomplished?
Yet what deed has love to do?
Trembling soul, why unbelieving
In My love so tried and true?

I have loved thee, etc.

"Oh, bid unbelief be banished,
Rest thy feeble faith on Me,
Leave the darkness and the distance,
To My bosom, loved one, flee.
Bid the world farewell for ever,
Cast no longing look behind;
Glory, honour, incorruption,
With the Friend of sinners find.

I have loved thee," etc.

Christ Triumphant.

HE is not here Why seek ye, sadly grieving,
The living One among the dead? Why keep
This fruitless vigil, lonely, unbelieving,
While yet 'tis night, and the great world asleep?
How could ye think that death's dark, doleful prison
Could hold the Son of God in durance vile?
O ye of little faith, the Lord is risen:
No more with floods of woe your cheeks defile.

He is not here! Behold the bands that bound Him,
The linen fine that lifeless limbs encased,
With which the trembling hands of lovers wound Him,
The napkin that His holy head embraced.
Nowhere the nervous haste of thieves appeareth;
Here no disorder of a coward flight;
This mighty stronghold shaken, shattered, weareth
The traces of a mightier Victor's might.

He is not here! The power of death is broken:
The son of Jesse hath Goliath slain.
See in this riven, rocky keep the token
That death no longer shall despotic reign.
This casket holds the Prince of life no longer;
The powers of hell have felt the might of God;
The strong man has been vanquished by the Stronger;
The Red Sea smitten by the Saviour's rod.

He is not here! Behold, ye broken-hearted,
This seal dishonoured, and those keepers prone;
And yonder, through the veil of heaven parted,
The Son of God upon the Father's throne.
Rejoice! Rejoice! The night of gloom and sorrow
Is passed for ever, and the glorious light
Of that long-looked for, everlasting morrow
Bursts from the cloudless blue, supremely bright.

He is not here! Hushed are our woes for ever.
The Victor's shout hath made the welkin ring.
All heaven rejoices, for again shall never
The creature suffer from the serpent's sting.
The keys of death and hell are in the keeping
Of Him, who from the dog my soul hath freed.
With exultation great my soul is leaping

My Beloved!

"My Beloved is mine, and I am His." (Solomon's Song 2:16).
Appropriation. "My Beloved is Mine."
MINE, Lord, art Thou, my life, my righteousness,
Sought in the midnight of my soul's distress,
And claimed when wrath was raging pitiless —
Shield and sure Shelter, mine.

Mine, Lord, art Thou, my Saviour and my Friend,
For me Thy way to Calvary Thou didst wend,
And into death's domain Thou didst descend —
Deliverer mighty, mine.

Mine, Lord, art Thou, victorious from the dead.
Thy blood for my transgressions Thou hast shed,
And Thou hast washed me — feet and hands and head —
And Thou, my life, art mine.

Mine, Lord, art Thou, my Star of Morning bright.
My beacon through the dark and treacherous night,
Shedding upon my pathway living light —
Star of the Morning, mine.

Mine, Lord, art Thou, throughout my pilgrim way,
Through life, through death, through resurrection, yea,
Through Thy great love's eternal cloudless day,
Lord Jesus, Thou art mine.

Consecration. "I am His."
THINE, Lord, am I, Thine by the counsels vast
Of love, which in the ages that are past
Were hid in God, now brought to light at last.
Lord Jesus, I am Thine.

Thine, Lord, am I, Thine by the Father's choice,
His gift to Thee; this gives me to rejoice:
And blessing Him and Thee I lift the voice
Confessing I am Thine.

Thine, Lord, am I, Thine through Thy precious blood,
Thy purchase, Saviour, but how deep the flood
Through which Thy travail brought me home to God,
That I, Lord, might be Thine.

Thine, Lord, am I, Thine in Thy glorious might.
'Tis resurrection morn: past is the night:
My heart is bathed in love's eternal light,
And I, O Lord, am Thine.

Thine, Lord, am I, Thine in affection true,
Thine through the desert drear, through time, and through
Eternity — in heaven and earth made new —
Lord Jesus, I am Thine.

Time's Flight.

GONE! Gone!
This is how the oscillating
Pendulum still keepeth prating;
Weary never, never waiting
Gone! Gone!

Mercilessly moments killing,
Graves of bygone ages filling.
Don't you hear it throbbing, thrilling?
Gone! Gone!

On the burning brain it crashes,
Moments come in fitful flashes,
Fall, like sparks, in dust and ashes.
Gone! Gone!

Like a living thing it sigheth,
Every stroke, a moment flieth,
Every beat, a mortal dieth.
Gone! Gone!

Hear the eternal dirge of sorrow!
Birth, and death, and night, and morrow!
Time can no man beg or borrow.
Gone! Gone!

Who can stop the march of ages?
Closely Time his work engages,
Writing leaves, and turning pages.
Gone! Gone!

See that orderly procession,
Pass along in quick succession,
Keeping rank without transgression!
Gone! Gone!

Into Lethe's stagnant river!
See upon the brink they shiver!
Sunk and lost and gone for ever!
Gone! Gone!

Still monotonously beating,
Everlastingly repeating,
Time is fleeting, fleeting, fleeting.
Gone! Gone!

Years are flying, flying, flying!
Men are dying, dying, dying!
Dust to dust! the bells are crying.
Gone! Gone!

Broken hearts are bleeding, bleeding;
Hands outstretched in pleading, pleading,
Death, the monster, all unheeding,
Gluttonously feeding, feeding!
Gone! Gone!

Born and bred, matured and married,
Dead and coffined, mourned and carried
To the gaping grave, and buried —
Gone! Gone!

But the spirit! what can save it?
Shall the bonds of death enslave it?
Nay, 'tis gone to God who gave it
Gone! Gone!

Doomed to torment! Gone to heaven!
Blessed in light divine, or driven
Down to that dark pit, wrath-riven.
Gone! Gone!

Heed, O sinner, timely warning,
Fly the everlasting burning,
Back from which there's no returning.
Gone! Gone!

Let me ask, upon reflection,
Shall there be a resurrection,
And a general inspection,
Of that mighty, mouldering section?
Gone! Gone!

Yes, the solemn hour is nearing,
When the dead at Christ's appearing,
His dread summons shall be hearing,
Who have hoping, doubting, fearing,
Gone! Gone!

Some shall rise, in power and glory,
Swelling Love's eternal story,
Wrinkled cheek, and ringlet hoary,
Gone! Gone!

Others weeping loud, and wailing;
At the bar of Judgment quailing —
Supplications unavailing,
Sneering, scoffing, mocking, railing,
Gone! Gone!

Does the fear of death enslave me?
Never! Jesus died to save me;
From my scarlet sins to lave me;
All were gone when God forgave me;
Gone! Gone!

Yes, my Lord has left death's prison.
In the glory see Him, risen!
What of my offences? Listen!
Gone! Gone!

This is what that swinging, swaying
Pendulum now seemeth saying
Of those sins, which, spite of praying,
Heavy on my soul were weighing —
Gone! Gone!

Sinner, life, while thou hast leisure,
Barter not for sinful pleasure,
Lest in hell a doleful measure,
Ceaseless, tells you of the treasure —
Gone! Gone!


COME, Lord, in Thy might and Thy glory!
We know Thou wilt make no delay,
But earth with trangression is hoary,
And the darkness is deep'ning to day —
Come! Come! O come!
For the light of the morning we pray.

That world which will burst into being
When beneath Thee the heavens shall bow,
And the shadows of night shall be fleeing,
Its light fills our souls even now —
Come! Come! O come!
With Thy diadems bright on Thy brow.

To Thy sheep and Thy lambs distant straying
O'er mountain and moorland afar,
The scoffers around us are saying
All things must remain as they are —
Come! Come! O come!
All-glorious and bright Morning Star.

O come! Put an end to our wandering,
To sighing and sorrow of heart,
We reap what we've sown in our pandering
To earth and the world's wicked art —
Come! Come! O come!
Bid the sin and the sorrow depart.

Put an end to the reign of oppression,
To lawlessness, death, and decay,
To pestilence, famine, transgression,
Drive the vapours of hades away —
Come! Come! O come!
From the powerful deliver the prey.

O come! Bid Thy church rise to meet Thee,
Thy bride Thou hast bought with Thy blood.
Give the groaning creation to greet Thee,
Give the nations the knowledge of God —
Come! Come! O come!
Bright Sun, spread Thy healing abroad.

In Thy majesty, Lord, and Thy splendour,
Unchangeable Lover divine,
Almighty Redeemer, Defender,
Shine forth for the blessing of Thine —
Come! Come! O come!
Bid the earth hear the corn and the wine.

The Risen Christ.

WE live in the life of the risen Christ,
Who has broken the power of death,
And declared the love
Of our God above
With His first and latest breath.
The heavens are riven,
And the Spirit given,
And He lives in our hearts thro' faith.

We walk in the light of the risen Christ
Thro' a bare and barren waste;
On Himself we feed,
And the grace we need
At our tent door God hath placed;
And in His strength
We shall come at length
To the home to which we haste.

We speak in the faith of the risen Christ,
And we tell of His heavenly grace;
How He left the throne
That was all His own
And took the sinner's place;
And bowed to the grave,
That He might save
A vile, apostate race.

We war in the might of the risen Christ
With the tell infernal powers;
We fear not the fight,
For our armour bright
Repels the noxious showers;
And thro' fire and flame,
In His great name,
The victory shall be ours.

We stand in the strength of the risen Christ,
With the sword of the Spirit drawn,
And the helmet bright,
With the power and light
Of God's salvation on;
And with faith's sure shield
We shall hold the field
Till the day of the Lord shall dawn.

We wait in the patience of that same Christ
For the clear and cloudless day,
When the Glory of God
Diffused abroad
Shall drive the night away,
And from pole to pole,
Over every soul,
His sceptre He shall sway.

Sustained by the power of this risen Christ
We work, and watch, and wait;
And with Him we walk,
And of Him we talk,
And joy with rejoicing great.
Ere the cock shall crow,
We shall hear, I trow,
His chariot at the gate.

Then glorified with the risen Christ
We shall share that princely place
For His own prepared,
Who His shame have shared,
Desertion and disgrace.
In love's own sphere,
He shall place us near
In the light of the Father's face.

Then let us be true to that risen Christ
In this world with afflictions strawed;
In the darkness dim
Let us shine for Him
And publish His name abroad,
Till the summons home
Shall with glory come
At His shout and the trump of God.

Written on Board the Lucania, 1901.

Cast off the cables! All on board!
Set the Lucania free!
The engines turn,
And the great screws churn
The deep bowels of the sea.

A seething track on her wide wake foams,
As far as the eye can scan,
White with the wrath
Of her salt sea-bath,
At the violence of man.

Past Sandy Hook and the Island Long,
Till northward upon her left,
Newfoundland Banks
She rapidly flanks,
As the tumbling deep is cleft.

Now out on the sullen, soundless sea,
Beset by wrathful gales
She shivers and thrills
On the crystal hills,
And groans in the liquid vales.

And all on board reel to and fro,
And stagger like drunken men;
And no landsman knows
The internal woes
Of the ocean's victims then.

But the Captain's heart is stout and strong,
And his clear eye scans the deep;
And the man at the wheel
Makes the great ship feel
The path that is her's to keep.

And the needle is true to the polar star,
Nor will lie nor at all deceive;
And in God's good hand
Who doth all command
Our souls we can safely leave.

By night we look out on the restless waste
Which mirrors the stars of heaven;
And toward the dome
See the flakes of foam
By the breath of the tempest driven.

But leviathan glides like a living thing
Through the depths of the boiling brine;
And amid the spray
On her furious way
You may see the phosphrous shine.

And the throb of her pulses strong is felt
By the sleeper in his berth;
And the cinders strawn
From her stacks seem drawn
From the entrails of the earth.

And she flames along like a burning mount
Through the blind bewildering night,
In her desperate haste
O'er the watery waste,
A blazing torch of light.

And deep in her stomach vast we lie.
And while round us the night winds wail,
We are tossed and rolled,
Like the Prophet of old
In the belly of the whale.

But the moment comes when the creature huge
In her haven of rest shall stand,
And, like Jonah's whale,
Put forth without fail
Her freight upon solid land.

For the mercy of Him who rules the waves
Our souls shall safely keep
From the perils great
Which lie in wait
In the lonely pathless deep.

And may we, drawn forth from the depths of death
To the resurrection side,
From this world stand free,
And true-hearted be,
For the Christ who to save us died.

And whether in hemisphere east or west
Be the place where we pitch our tent;
And be little or great
Our earthly state,
May our minds upon heav'n be bent.

The Faithful God.

OUR God is not a man that He should lie,
Nor yet a son of man to change his mind;
Though this our fell destroyer would deny,
That he might better his bondservants blind;
And thus from love, and life, and blessing sever
Their hapless souls forever and forever.

His Son He sent to bear our load of woe,
His righteousness and truth to make secure;
To dig a channel through which love should flow
In justice to His debtors weak and poor.
Who ever heard of grace so rich and boundless,
Vast, measureless, eternal, searchless, soundless.

In dark Golgotha's cross of curse and shame
A base was laid, upon which built should be
A universe with Godhead light aflame,
Filled with intelligences, who should see
That not one word that He has ever spoken
To creature has forgotten been or broken.

But all fulfilled in righteousness supreme,
Where ransomed hosts His faithfulness acclaim,
When earth and heaven made anew shall gleam
With life and honour where were death and shame.
Truth there shall flourish to His endless glory,
Which now is testified in Gospel story.

Therefore let no man hesitate to cast
His soul upon the God who cannot lie;
That solid rock shall judgment's withering blast
And onslaught of the gates of hell defy.
Whatever else may fail His word shall never.
This consolation has my soul for ever.

Soon shall His kingdom come, and city great,
In which no tongue of falsehood shall be found;
That bright metropolis for which we wait,
With righteousness and love and glory crowned.
Within it may the reader and the writer
Be found with garments than the sunlight whiter.

There to lift up our voices and to boast
In Him, the God of truth and life and love,
With all the blood-redeemed rejoicing host
Gathered within the courts of light above,
Where Truth-Incarnate glorified is sitting,
A place the sons of truth so well befitting.

Then let us gladsome be, though called to pass
Footsore and weary through a foreign land,
Where many a dark and treacherous morass
Of falsehood frightful lies on every hand.
His truth shall keep us till we land in glory
To which He calls us by His gospel story.

Thine Only.

LORD I am Thine My heart must now
No longer 'gainst Thee closed remain;
Thy love has conquered, henceforth Thou
Must here without a rival reign.
Let every rebel thought be slain.
Lo, subject at Thy feet I bow.

Long to Thy heavenly voice mine ear
Was deaf: love's whispers sweet were drowned
By this world's clamour: I would hear
Henceforward now no other sound.
Speak, Lord, for Thou art Sovereign crowned,
Thy voice my subject soul shall cheer.

Thy precious blood has met the claim
Of justice, which was all my dread;
And Thou for me hast borne the blame,
And, Saviour, suffered in my stead:
But Thou art risen from the dead,
And I have pardon through Thy name.

No more my conscience fears the rod;
For all the wrath is passed and gone.
Within my heart is shed abroad
The love which in Thy sufferings shone.
The light of life begins to dawn.
Through Thee I make my boast in God.

Morning Breaks.

RISE my soul, thy night is past,
Darkness now no more enfolds thee;
Fear of wrath's terrific blast
Terror bound no longer holds thee.

God, the God of boundless grace,
Through thy deep dark night hath broken;
Christ, who took the sinner's place,
Of His heart's deep love hath spoken.

That dread scene on Calvary's hill
Tells the doom thou wast deserving;
When with wild and wayward will,
Sin and satan thou wast serving.

Ah! Thou thoughtest God was hard,
In His nature unbelieving;
That against thee heaven was barred:
It was satan thee deceiving.

But His love has broken down
All the strongholds of the devil,
Stormed thy heart, and wears the crown,
King where reigned the power of evil.

Blessed be His holy name!
Wake my heart and give Him glory!
Set my soul, O Lord aflame
With Thy love's immortal story.

The Burden of Dumah.

THE voice of the scoffer comes barbed with a sneer
From the infidel land of the red Edomite: —
"The burden of Dumah. He calls out of Seir,
Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?"

And the prophet of God in his vision is seeing
The coming Messiah in splendour displayed,
And the shadows of night at His presence fast fleeing,
And the tops of the hills in His glory arrayed.

As the bright beaming sun, from his absence returning,
Bathes deep in his light, valley, mountain, and wold;
And chases the chills of the night by his burning,
And the face of the heavens paints purple and gold:

On the mind of the seer, the morning is casting,
From the dim distant future bright lines of its light;
But between, a black cloud, cheerless, chilling, and blasting,
Portends a tempestuous, turbulent night.

And the form of a cross on the brow of yon mountain,
A grim, ghostly shadow sends over the scene;
Yet deep from its foot springs a clear, crystal fountain,
Where the filthy may bathe and be every whit clean.

But distant and dim through the darkness it seemeth,
And around it dense vapours are tossed by the storm;
While deep in their bosoms the thunder flash gleameth,
Like spears of fierce foemen in dread battle form.

And a cloud on the brow of Jehovah is gathering,
And the hand of Omnipotence graspeth a sword,
And a hot curse of vengeance comes wasting and withering,
Sent forth on the breeze by the breath of the Lord.

And the angel of death through the nations is rushing,
And Assyria's host stand to arms all in vain;
And the mountain of Seir to its basement is blushing
Red with the rebel life-blood of the slain.

And Russia's legions are feeling His anger,
Who come from the north to return nevermore;
And the neighing of chargers, the shout, and the clangour
Of death-dealing weapon, forever are o'er.

And the Empire of Rome trembles, struck by His thunders,
The thrones of the ten kings are dashed to the ground;
And the beast, and the prophet of lies with his wonders,
In the flame of eternal destruction are bound.

And the rod of His wrath over Egypt He shaketh,
And the Isles the hot breath of His fierce anger feel;
And Babylon's pride He o'erturneth and breaketh,
While the earth like a drunkard doth totter and reel.

And fiercely the wrath of the living God burneth,
And the soul of the prophet is stirred at the sight,
And thus to the scoffer he answer returneth: —
"The morning is coming, and also the night."

Still slept the dark night, and the prophet was buried;
The scoffer, too, sank on the mountain of Seir;
And long years on Time's bosom were silently carried
To regions forgotten ere morning drew near.

But at length over Palestine, lo, it seems breaking,
And Bethlehem's pastures are bathed in its light;
And voices angelic are joyfully waking
With praises the ear of the slumbering night.

Jehovah the Saviour! Emmanuel! Jesus!
The Son of the Father! The Light of the world!
See, the banner of peace by God's hand to the breezes
In boundless compassion and mercy unfurled!

He cometh to turn the world's gloom into gladness,
The mourning to change into music and mirth;
To songs of salvation the sighing and sadness,
And lift the dark veil from the face of the earth;

To bind up the broken heart, strike off the fetters,
Preach freedom to captives imprisoned in gloom;
Sight bringing to sightless ones, pardon for debtors,
The serpent to crush in the dust of the tomb.

The tomb? Yes, the world would have none of the Saviour.
'Twas the cross for the Christ, for man hated the light;
Determined to practice his lawless behaviour
Afar off from God in the darkness of night.

And on wrath-crowned Golgotha, Messiah, rejected
By Gentile and Jew, to a gibbet was nailed;
And a robber and murderer madly elected;
For in face of man's hatred, love nothing availed.

And the night has rolled on since on Calvary's mountain
He died who had sought man's affections to win,
And who, risen and seated on high, is the fountain
Of life for the dying soul bitten by sin.

Yet a morning is coming for all who have loved Him,
For all who are longing to look on His face,
For all who have turned to Him, trusted, and proved Him,
And tasted the sweets of His heavenly grace.

And the voice of the scoffer again I am hearing,
Blown loud on mine ear by the blast of his scorn: —
"Where is the promise? Creation is wearing
No sign of His coming, no token of morn."

But for all that, with Jesus there is no delaying.
Enough that to save us He bowed to the grave.
Longsuffering salvation is, thus He is staying
The strong hand of judgment, that mercy may save,

But when the last guest at His supper is seated,
And the last of His sheep has been gathered to Christ,
Then the Star of the Morning, in heaven secreted,
Shall look on us through the world's mountain of mist.

And we'll steal from the earth, as the drops from the ocean
Arise unobserved at Hyperion's smile;
And the world undisturbed by our heavenward motion,
Neath the wing of the night shall sleep on for awhile.

Except where the dreamers accustomed to mutter,
"Lord, Lord," through their sleep, feel the faithful have gone;
Awaking too late in despair they shall utter
A great cry for mercy, when hope there is none.

For a night is in store for the souls who neglect Him,
And turn a deaf ear to His message of grace;
When shut is salvation's door, those who reject Him
Shall surely cry out for the light of His face.

But in vain, for the wrath of God then shall be burning,
And how shall the scoffer appear in His sight;
Who has in these words both his answer and warning: —
"The morning is coming, and also the night."

True Knowledge.

DOES the reader know Jesus, the Sent One of God?
He may know all that ever was known
By every proud sage who earth's highway has trod,
Or whose name in its annals has shone.

A seat he may have where the great and the wise,
The world's legislators, make laws;
By his knowledge profound he may millions surprise,
And gain from all quarters applause.

As a king he may reign, and have worship from all,
Lamented by thousands may die;
Men may build him a tomb which his virtues extol,
And a pillar to reach to the sky.

But valueless every such honour shall be,
If the mighty Redeemer of men,
As a Saviour well known he is never to see,
Nor taste of His mercy again.

Shall the feeble applause that once rose on the air
From the crowd he was wont to amuse,
Make up for the horror of endless despair,
And a conscience awake to accuse?

Shall his vaunted philosophy solace his woes
Where mercy or hope are unknown,
When the clouds of an endless night round him shall close,
Rejected, forsaken, alone?

O woe worth the day when he naked appears
To bear for his follies the smart,
When the voice of the Judge of all wrathful he hears
Ye curst, from My presence depart!


COME, let us sing unto the Lord victorious!
The conflict ended is, the field is His,
Shout, shout aloud! Proclaim His triumph glorious!
Far spread His fame, for He the conquerer is.

In dread array the might of hell was mustered,
The nations raged, the prince of darkness led;
Fell hosts about the Lord's Anointed clustered,
But in the brunt of battle broke and fled.

Their ranks, the whirlwind of His fury burning
Felt, as too late they turned in headlong flight,
His whelming waves of vengeance, overturning
Man, horse, and chariot, in that blind night.

Dashed down, deep driven to destuction, never
To rise again, is all the godless throng;
By death He overcame and crushed forever
The whole dread power of the oppressor strong.

A way thro' death and bitter bondage cleaving,
He set us free in resurrection might;
Then let us sing with joyful hearts, receiving
The great salvation He hath brought to light.

The sprinkled lintel met the dread avenger,
And stilled the fury of his fiery brand;
Now far from slavery, and death, and danger
Of condemnation, through God's grace we stand.

Brought unto God! The wilderness is nothing:
The springing well is there, His presence blest,
And manna — He will furnish food and clothing —
Then let us hasten on to God's own rest.

The land is good! Its bubbling brooks and fountains
Break on our ears, and call our spirits on.
We see in vision verdant vales and mountains,
And in our hearts is the eternal dawn.

The Son of God, our Saviour, Leader, Master,
And great High Priest who knows our feeble state:
Drawn by His love, we dread no dark disaster,
Heaven is before our hearts, and glory great.


LEAD on our souls, Lord, let us not turn back
In heart to Egypt, where the flesh would feed.
What tho' before us lies the waste, can lack
Be suffered where Thy love, O Lord, doth lead?

O, let the riches of that radiant land,
Its vales ambrosial, its fair verdant hills,
Before faith's vision, vast, unveiled, expand,
Till our whole being at the prospect thrills.

Be absent from our breast the base desire
For fleshy feasts in godless fellowship;
Thro' thirst and hunger, let the cloud and fire
Lead where the red wine leaps to kiss the lip.

Thro' this wide waste, blest Saviour, Son of God,
Thy feet have marked the path; free Thou dost give
The living water; Thou art staff and rod:
And, Lord, because Thou livest we shall live.

The manna fails not: let us early haste,
Sufficient store to gather for the day.
To reach the rest of God, this weary waste
Is in our Father's wisdom made the way.

We only need to have our vision clear,
Allured by that all-glorious heavenly light;
Each day to leave this world more in the rear,
And Canaan keep more constantly in sight.

And Thou shalt make the arid desert teem
With blest instruction; we shall learn the deeps
Of our hearts' badness, but beneath the beam
Of love eternal, which securely keeps.

E'en now we know Thee thro' Thy sacrifice,
And by the Spirit given from above;
But ere behind us all our journey lies,
We shall have better learned Thy heart's deep love.

And there is little else to learn, still slow
Our souls expand beneath its living light.
Oh, keep us ever in its heavenly glow,
Nor let us wander in the world's cold night.

Draw us, Lord Jesus, by those cords of love,
And cause our hearts the melody to hear
Of Thy loved voice, which calls us hence above,
To that fair country to our souls so dear.

So shall we prove the path Thy feet have pressed,
The highway, with abundant mercies strawed,
To where our names upon Thy faithful breast
Sparkle in light, the living light of God.

The "First-Born."

Bow the knee!
'Tis the high decree
Of Almighty God.
Bow the knee!
Send the fiat free
From the heavens abroad.

Lord alone,
On the Father's throne,
Over all things Head!
Hell, amazed,
Saw the Victor raised
From among the dead.

Bow down to Him,
And Lord Him call.
His is the throne,
Let the wide world own
Him Lord of all!

Jesus! Son!
With the Father one
God's Fellow Thou!
To battle ride —
Creation, bow!

Lord of the throng
Of angels strong,
God's armies dread!
Victorious Lord,
With flaming sword,
And garments red!

Once disowned,
But now enthroned;
For power and might,
God hath sworn,
Tho' the nations scorn,
Are His by right.

Gird Thy sword
On Thy thigh, O Lord,
Ride prosperously;
Thro' rebel hearts
Thy fiery darts
Shall cleave their way.

Most high God!
Of the earth He trod,
Creator He!
Subjects, kings,
Infernal things,
Bow low the knee!

His brightness fills
The heavens, and thrills
The trumpet dread.
The ransomed hear
The music clear,
Living and dead.

His glorious bride,
See, by His side!
Most dazzling fair!
Robed in white,
Than the sun more bright,
His throne to share.

Praise resounds!
Remotest bounds
Take up the strain.
Rejoice! rejoice!
Lift up the voice!
The Christ doth reign!

All nations sing,
The heavens ring,
Be His name adored.
The chorus thrills,
From the lasting hills —
Praise ye the Lord.

Jehovah my Shepherd.

"The Lord's my Shepherd!" He who looked from heaven
And saw me like a lost sheep gone astray,
O'er moor and mountain, by the stranger driven,
Into the jaws of savage beasts of prey;
And pluckt me from the lion's mouth away,
When failed my trembling heart, with terror riven.

"I shall not want!" Tell me, how could I want
When He who gave for me His precious life
Fills the strong throne of the Omnipotent,
Above this scene of misery and strife,
With want and pestilence and famine rife? —
In heaven my portion is, nor scarce, nor scant.

"He makes me to lie down!" How great His care!
In noonday sun He will not have me toil;
A gourd from burning heat He doth prepare,
Round which no crawling worm of earth can coil
To bite its tender root beneath the soil,
And leave my head defenceless, weak, and bare.

"In pastures green!" His pierced hand smoothes my bed
When with abundance I am satisfied;
I lay me down to rest, afar from dread;
My watchful Shepherd, great and true and tried,
Still keepeth guard unwearied by my side —
The lilies round me smile, their perfume shed.

"He leadeth me!" I feel no stranger hand,
Rough with unkindness, grasping this of mine;
I feel my finger in the nail-print, brand
Of love eternal, infinite, divine!
I see His face on me with fondness shine,
Which doth my heart's full confidence command.

"Beside the waters still!" No turbid river;
No foaming torrent, generating fear,
Thro' mountain gorge that growling dasheth ever,
Like angry voices brawling on mine ear;
But that sweet living water, sparkling, clear,
That whoso drinketh lives and thirsteth never.

"He doth restore my soul" when slothfulness
Creeps over me, and bids me turn aside
To smoother paths, where flesh may find a place
To rest in this dark scene where Jesus died —
He shows His wounded hands and feet and side,
And stirs my soul to triumph in His grace.

"He leadeth me," drives not, He goes before;
I mark His footsteps in the shining way;
I hear His voice this Babel's clamour o'er,
Leading thro' earth's dark night to heaven's day,
Where joy in fulness dwells eternally,
And pleasures infinite forevermore.

"Within the paths of righteousness!" How sweet!
That path so pleasing to the righteous God,
So marked by Jesus' holy, blessed feet,
The path as Man in lowly grace He trod!
He teacheth mine, so used to walk abroad,
Of His the blessed movements to repeat.

"For His name's sake!" No wayward act of mine
Can change His purposes to bear me through;
His patient grace instructs me, line on line.
And spite of all my dulness doth pursue
His ways of grace, with this one thing in view,
That as His work I shall in glory shine.

"Yea, though I tread the valley of the shade
Of death," in passing thro' this darksome scene,
Yet shall my path be gloriously arrayed
By light thro' pearl gates beaming bright, I ween;
And, 'stead of noisome voices, be the pean
Of golden harps by joyful fingers played.

"I'll fear no evil!" I shall flood the vale
With songs of victory and heavenly mirth;
Nor shall my fountain of refreshment fail,
Like finite creature springs and pools of earth,
And o'er all nervous fancies, brought to birth.
By whispered falsehoods, I will still prevail.

"For Thou art with me!" Thou who once lay'st dead
So lowly in the gloomy, rocky cave,
But rising, death destroyed, and Satan's head
Beneath Thy strong foot crushed, and left the grave:
I fear no foaming flood nor smothering wave,
Dryshod I cross that swelling Jordon's bed.

"Thy rod" that points me out the perfect way,
When to my sight no bounded path appears;
When to the left or right one step astray
Destruction were to me, my spirit hears
Thy voice, blest Lord, amid surrounding fears,
Calling me on to everlasting day.

"And Thy staff" gives my tottering frame support,
I lean upon Thy power and pass along;
The way that seemed so long grows wondrous short,
And when I feeble am then am I strong;
Of Thee, my Shepherd great, shall be my song,
Thy rod and staff preserve my soul from hurt.

"They comfort me!" Direction is not all,
For without power direction were in vain;
Without Thy staff I sink, I faint, I fall;
Without Thy rod my eager eyes I strain;
I need them both the haven's rest to gain:
They comfort me when terrors would appal.

"Thou dost prepare a table me before,"
I feast upon the Living Bread of God:
The mighty love that wept my ruin o'er,
And unto me Thy great salvation showed,
A table in this wilderness doth load,
And I am fed from heaven's bounteous store.

"In presence of mine enemies" — dread foes!
Flinging the fatal, fiery, flaming dart;
Yet doth my soul, by living faith, repose
In Jesus' love, beyond all fear of hurt;
And safely garrisons my trusting heart
God's perfect peace, which not one ruffle knows.

"Thou dost anoint my head with oil!" What grace!
A holy priest I am brought near with Thee;
Within the holiest of all my place,
Thy blood my title is, Thy Spirit me
From sin's dominion sets for ever free;
I pass within the veil, I see God's face.

"My cup runs over!" I participate
In infinite delights, my vessel flows
Still o'er with joys that never can abate,
While my glad heart with Abba's favour glows—
That love that neither let nor limit knows:
My heaven shall be that love to contemplate.

"Surely goodness!" That grace that first me led,
In true repentance, from the far off land,
When toiled my soul for that which was not bread,
With hungry famine gaunt on every hand,
And drew me back with love's encircling band
Into a Father's arms — and clothed and fed;

"And mercy," as from heaven the gentle rain
That falls refreshing on the earth's hot breast,
And with life-giving power the burning plain
In sweet and verdant beauty soon hath drest —
(With sovereign mercy thus and goodness blest,
'Gainst me combine all hellish powers in vain).

"Shall follow me!" The cunning serpent creeps
Hard on my heels, with poisoned fang concealed;
From covering rock the crouching lion leaps
With roar as if a thousand thunders pealed;
I pass in triumph, from their fury veil'd
By power omnipotent, that safely keeps.

"The days of my whole life," while far from home
I stand in this world's darkness here below,
(Where found my Saviour but a cross and tomb,)
With girded loins and well-trimmed lamp, and so,
Ready at His first footfall up to go,
While waiting through this long night till He come.

"And I will dwell!" No transient visitor
Shall I be there. This would not please His heart
Who, 'mid the darkness on Golgotha, bore
Of all my many thousand sins the smart,
And now my name upon His faithful heart
He bears in light, the throne of God before.

"In the Lord's house!" There, like and with my Lord,
In that blest place He hath prepared for me;
My heart reposes in His faithful word,
"And where I am there shall My servant be,"
No more to wander for eternity —
For ever be His matchless grace adored.

"For ever" with Him in that home above;
My Shepherd, good and great! my Saviour! Friend!
To walk with Him in white, where only love
And light for all eternity do blend,
And to the ages that shall never end
The depth of His great love my soul shall prove.

The Ways of God with Man.

ELIHU, who in answer to the wail
Of the afflicted patriarch, stood forth,
Umpire between Jehovah and the poor
Tormented creature grovelling in the dust,
And covered with disease from head to foot,
Hath told us that the sorrows which befell
Unhappy Job were not confined to him,
But that the blessed God, compassionate
Toward His creature, brings those evils oft
Upon the sons of men, to draw their souls
Back from destruction's bottomless abyss,
And them illuminate with light divine.

Wealth fades within an hour, riches take wings,
And pitilessly leave us, to return
No more; death merciless invades
The peaceful home, and rends compassionless
The tender cords of sweet affections, and
Upon its gloomy and terrific way
Moves onward ruthlessly unmoved, and leaves
Bruised hearts in loneliness to bleed to death.

And hard upon the heels of all these ills
Rides loathsome pestilence, with noxious breath,
To kill within the soul the last desire
For earthly life, yet severs not the cord
That binds the spirit to the house of clay.

A burden to himself, the creature longs
For death, which never comes to set him free
From the hard fortune which has him befallen.
It takes his friend, and from his bosom tears
Those to his soul most dear, but scorns to take
From him the life from which he longs to part,
Yet must perforce retain.

The hated day
Gives place to still more hated night, the hours
Crawl wearily across the burning brain;
The sun looks down on wretchedness, the moon
And stars upon a writhing shape of dust
And ashes by fierce fever scorched and dry,
Flesh by disease devoured and wasted, skin
Fast cleaving unto bone; the outward man,
Like to a castle ravaged by the foe,
Roofless and ruined, from whose battered walls
The tenants stand prepared to make escape,
Draws near unto the narrow house, whose dark
And dull interior makes one recoil
With shuddering, till stand upon the brow
The dewy beads, which faithful witness bear
To the huge horror of the soul within.

Thus speaks to man the God who gave him breath,
And who, to humble him that he may hear
The voice of mercy, for a moment leaves
Him in the hand and to the will of his
Inexorable and relentless foe,
But draws a line which not Apollyon
With all his quenchless malice dare transgress.
Touch not his life is the command of God,
And there the waves that foam upon the sea
Of wrath infernal must their limit find.
Within that limit they may roar and rage
And lash themselves to fury; and the bark
Which at their mercy seems, may balanced be
For one brief moment on the crystal crags,
Then downward rushed by foaming cataracts
Into the seething vales, spray-drenched and rocked
And tossed and billow-beaten, till it seems
As though it must needs, by the violence
With which it is assailed, to pieces go.
But yet it lives, for guarded by a hand
That knows no weakness, it is there as safe
Amid the surf as on the calmest sea.

All these things often doth the hand of Love
Upon its object bring, that he may learn
And know himself, and take his rightful place
Down in the dust before the face of God.
For deep within the human heart there lurks
The horrible, soul-murdering conceit,
That he himself is God; and this must be,
For his salvation and eternal bliss,
Eradicated, that he may be brought
To own himself a creature, lost and vile,
And into right relationships with God.
This to accomplish must his enemy,
The fell destroyer of the human race,
Be requisitioned; and his wrath and hate
Be made to serve.

The sick and suffering soul,
Tossed by the tempest of his whelming woes,
Longs for his couch, and gentle sleep invokes,
Which o'er the wasted frame at midnight hoar
Her mantle casts so soothingly, and seals
The weary eyelids; and with velvet hand
Passed softly o'er the weary head, doth cool
The burning brain, and draw the weary soul
Clean out from all the troubles of this life
Into a region of unconsciousness.
The world with all its poverty and wealth,
Its laughter and its weeping, bruit, and broil,
Its pains and pleasures, health and illnesses,
Are laid aside, and the deep generous calm
Of death's resemblance settles on the frame.

But He who never slumbers cannot see
Without compassion His poor creature drift
Towards the pit of everlasting grief,
Without an effort to withdraw him thence.
Therefore in vision dread the slumberer sees
Himself before the bar of judgment borne,
And all his guilty life, which he thought fair
Enough, arise before his vision black
As is the inky cloud of winter's night,
When tempests sweep the moonless vault of heaven.
Trembling he hears the awful sentence fall,
Like peal of thunder, from the lips of Him,
From whose dread judgment there is no appeal;
And reeling from the presence of that throne
Of dazzling whiteness, stumbles on the cliffs
Which beetle o'er the sullen surging flood
Of everlasting and devouring fire,
And falling headlong, with a shriek awakes,
With the cold moisture beaded on his brow,
And over all his shuddering shrinking frame
Oozing from every pore; then nervously
Stretches his hand and grasps the flagon near,
Which holds a draught of crystal water cool,
And drains it to the dregs, as if to prove
To his half doubtful mind that he is not
In the domain of everlasting thirst.

Now is the time for the Interpreter,
The one who may to this sad soul declare
The meaning of those woes, which threaten so
To rend him mercilessly limb from limb,
And sweep his habitation from the earth.
One is required who can his soul's disease,
From which his body suffers, diagnose,
And who can at the same time minister
The medicine which without fail shall cure.
One only in a thousand may take up
This controversy between man and God.

Woe to the blind and self-sufficient guide,
Presuming by his wisdom to direct
The soul through those dark avenues, which lead
From nature's gloom into the light of God!
If those who blind are seek to lead the blind,
Both shall into the ditch most surely fall.
But where the soul has been divinely taught,
And knows the truth, and what becomes the man
From Adam sprung, and can his finger lay
Upon the root of evil which through all
His spiritual constitution sends
Its noxious fibers, spreading moral death
Throughout the system, such an one is fit
The part of the Interpreter to play.
He can the bruised and broken-hearted cause
To understand the meaning of the voice
Addressed to him in his calamities,
And what is needful that the mighty hand
Of the Omnipotent should be removed
From him for ever, and that he should rest
In right relations with the living God.

Pride is the root from which all sorrows spring,
And ill becomes a creature of the dust;
And surely worse a sinner in his sins.
Let man then practice truth, if to do good
He is unable; truth, and truth alone,
Is all that's needed. Let the sinner stand
Confessed as this before the face of God.
The question then is not what good may be
Within the heart of man, found there for God;
But seeing man is fallen, ruined, lost,
With nothing good in him on which the eye
Of God could rest with satisfaction, is
There grace and love within His heart for man?
No longer is the question, What is man?
But, What is God? Upon the answer to
This all-important question hangs the woe
Or weal of all the sons of Adam's race.

The discipline of God is meant to lay
The haughtiness of mortals in the dust.
By pride the devil fell, and fallen man,
Though under death and to his passions slave,
Is in his estimation far above
Ideas of deliverance by grace.
His sinful pride bears him away from God,
And hellward hurries him; if let alone
Lost must he be for ever. This to prevent
And bring the wanderer into heavenly light,
Are all the blest activities of God.

How good it is to know that His desire
Is for the blessing of his creature man.
He might, had He been vengeful, have disowned
The erring mortal, and abandoned him
To the just consequences of his guilt.
And why He set His heart upon our race,
And sought us, when as vagabonds we fled
Afar from Him, imputing jealousy
And hardness and austerity to Him,
Is one of the innumerable things
Which He has done in His unfathomed grace,
Which we can never fully understand.

He tells us He desires to justify,
And we have thought He wanted to condemn.
He tells us He is for us, we have thought
He was against us and our death desired.
His prophets have been slain, His word refused,
His laws transgressed, His patient grace despised,
His Spirit vexed, His holy courts profaned,
His Son rejected, judged, and gibbeted,
His Gospel persecuted everywhere;
As Saviour and as Justifier we
Have all refused Him, yet so resolute
In love omnipotent, He will not be
Driven from His intendiment to save.

But when man takes His only rightful place
The discipline is ended, boundless grace
Binds up the broken heart, his woes are healed.
A new and blessed day of light, and peace,
And hope, and joy unspeakable, has dawned.
He knows himself, but God he also knows,
And God is love, and from that love of God
No power can separate. God is his friend.
For him in all the greatness of His love,
And in His power omnipotent; that power
Which came to light in raising up the One,
Who as the Witness of almighty love
Laid down His life to save us from the pit.

And everything that He has done for us
Has had its origin in Sovereign love;
And all is founded on the sacrifice,
The ransom which upon Golgotha's hill
Was offered to insulted Majesty.
Of His providing was the spotless Lamb,
His well-beloved Son, Jesus, the Christ.
He bore our sins, He suffered in our stead,
The blame of all He took upon Himself.
But all the wrath is past, the judgment gone,
And nothing now remains but that great love,
Which in the bearing of the judgment came
Into display. That love is all our boast,
The light in which we live, our very life,
Our everlasting blessing, and from which
No creature power in heaven, earth, or hell,
Can separate our souls. O love divine!
The Father's and the Son's, declared in death!
Our blest, eternal portion, infinite,
And changeless love, which far surpasses all
Our human understanding. Yet it is
Now to be known, and is now known by all
In whom the Spirit of the Father dwells.
Now blessed be that love in Christ made known,
And blessed be His ways with all His own.


HE was a man of legal fame,
The wide world need not know his name,
Enough to know his woes.
The thorn that rankled in his breast,
The gnawing worm that broke his rest,
Let his own words disclose: —

"When but a boy of tender years,
At school I strove among my peers
With infinite desire,
Above them all to set myself;
While love of fame, and greed of
Burned in my soul like fire.

"Nor could my soul contented be,
By toil to climb the laurel tree,
Which tempting leaves displayed.
Far too laborious was the task,
Too doubtful the result, to ask
From gentle patience aid.

"My visions were of yellow gold,
Grand stalls which rare blood horses hold —
But how these to obtain?
When lo, from the abyss of hell
A maddening spark, red, burning, fell
Into my heated brain.

"A knife I seized, and with the blade,
Right in my naked arm I made
A puncture deep and wide;
A parchment next I quickly found,
A pen then from the welling wound
I filled with that red tide.

"Then on the page I rashly wrote,
While laughed the fell fiend in his throat,
To see that frenzed scrawl —
The vow, that if he would engage,
Horses and gold to give as wage,
He should possess my soul!

"My schooldays o'er, my college life
Was spent in an eternal strife
With ignorance at war.
I tore the chaplet from the brow
Of honour, bore it off, and now
I hastened to the bar.

"Fortune blest everything I touched,
The judge and jury seemed bewitched,
And, right or wrong, I won.
My help, like help of God, was sought;
Justice and truth I set at nought,
Conscience was wholly gone.

"All I had lusted after came,
The wealth, the horses, and the fame,
The race, the hunting-field.
Light as a sunbeam was my heart;
A mind that mocked at sorrow's smart
My laughing life revealed.

"And now as if to make secure
My dreadful doom, and doubly sure
The pit of hell my goal;
The fiend of scepticism drew
My thoughts aside, and deftly blew
His breath upon my soul.

"The curse that holds beneath its spell
The dreaming, drivelling infidel
O'er my poor brain did creep.
A peace soon settled on my mind,
The peace of one, who, lost and blind,
Sees not the dangerous steep.

"Still did I prosper in the world,
Still in its giddy dance I whirled,
Till waked one night in dread:
A footstep thro' my chamber went,
A voice the solemn silence rent: —
'Eternity,' it said.

"Eternity, that word alone,
Hot as a breath from torrid zone,
Or flame from hell's abyss,
Entwined its serpent tongue around
My brain by burning temples bound
In torment and distress.

"The hair upon my flesh straight stood;
Froze in my veins the crimson blood;
Dropped moisture from my pores.
An instant stood my heart with fear,
Then bounded like a frightened deer
Against its prison doors.

"Eternity! Whence came that word,
Which drowsy night's deep stillness stirred,
And wrung my soul with fear?
Was it a voice from heaven's throne,
Borne by the breath of night upon
The portal of mine ear?

"Or was it from the depths of hell
A sigh sent up by spirit fell,
Who from the gloom below
Looks backward on a godless track,
And forward on a future black
With drapery of woe?

"Eternity! And am I doomed
In vaults of fire to be entombed,
In banishment from God?
Him I abandoned, must it be
My measure He shall meet to me
Within that dread abode?

"Eternity! Shall dungeons deep
Shroud my lost spirit, while I steep
Thy floor with floods of woes;
Where justice with her strong right arm,
And heart of stone no tears can charm,
Deals her almighty blows?

"Alas, thy dreary vastness awes
My soul! One fixed unbroken pause,
Eternity, art thou!
And that one pause a pause of wrath,
Which on my heart one hard hoof hath,
And one upon my brow.

"I cry to God, or strive at least,
But more like groan of suffering beast,
That cannot frame to speak.
I feel as if encased in rock,
Whose echoes mercilessly mock
My soul's despairing shriek.

"Oft since that dreadful night I've sat
Alone, and sought to fathom that
Immense eternity;
And I of this vast globe have thought,
And all those orbs with glory fraught,
Which in the night we see.

"And then I've fancied one small piece
In every hundred years release
Its clutch, and crumbling fall;
And piece by piece, while time rolls on,
How long before one world is gone?
But one! And what of all?

"And in my mind — nor could I cease —
I've watched them dropping piece by piece,
And world by world away;
Till every planet, moon, and sun,
Had dropped to pieces, one by one,
And all in ruin lay.

"And then like boiling spring upwelled
Within my throbbing brain, and swelled
As like to burst the bones,
The fearful truth that even when
All worlds are brought to nothing, then
Eternity but dawns.

"Call this a nightmare, should you find
Hallucination of the mind
A better word to use;
I care not what unhappy name
The sceptic mind of man may frame,
Those fears to disabuse;

"Sure as o'er earth night's shadows creep,
And my worn body sinks to sleep,
A messenger from God
Enters my chamber, filling me
With dread of that eternity
And hell's accursed abode."

Thou askest, Is there hope for such?
Or has he sunk beyond the stretch
Of mercy's mighty arm?
Has Jesu's precious, priceless blood
No cleansing power to bring to God
And shield that soul from harm?

Yes, let the truth with ringing cheer
Go forth till hosts infernal hear,
And tremble in their dens;
In this wide world there does not dwell
One soul alive and out of hell,
But Jesu's blood can cleanse.

The chief of sinners has been saved,
And others, wretched, and depraved —
Victims of man's deep fall;
And so may this poor soul, and thou
Who readest of his woes, if thou
Hark to the Saviour's call.


UNSPEAKABLE happiness! Bliss supreme!
Bright hope! Ere the morrow's sun shall rise,
My spirit, set free from fleshly ties,
Shall bask where the glories of Jesus beam.

Encumbered no more by this weight of dust,
Like a bird it shall break the earthy shell,
With a joy no mortal tongue can tell,
And join the spirits of all the just.

With the ear of a bondman glad I hear
The Jubilee trump's seraphic swell —
I fear no evil, all is well:
The shout of victory greets mine ear.

Impatient I wait the final blow
That shall lay in the dust this prison wall;
And the chains that fetter and fret and gall,
My spirit no more again shall know.

Earth has no charm for a soul that stands
On the threshold of Paradise, and feels
The glow of immortal love that steals
Through the portal over the face and hands.
Bathed in the light of my God I pass
From a world polluted, false, profane;
From the groan of anguish, grief and pain,
From sorrows of every kind and class,

To the love and light of the Father's house,
To the presence of Jesus, high o'er all,
Whom every tongue doth there extol,
And before whom every knee low bows;

To contemplate hands, and feet, and side,
Pierced when He gave Himself for me,
When God-forsaken upon the tree,
And by man reproached, reviled, denied.

To raise my voice with the saints who cry —
Worthy is He, God's spotless Lamb —
The new and the everlasting psalm
Sung by the blood-redeemed on high.
Glory surround me, cloudless, bright
Not death with forbidding front I see,
But incorruptibility,
And life in the sphere of living light.

Ye may cast where you will this house of clay
In which is my tabernacle now,
When it at the touch of death shall bow,
And I have passed from the world away.

Ye may bury it under the mountain's base,
Or in the depths of the ocean cold;
Let the tumbling, trackless waters hold
The secret of its resting place.

It shall rise again at the trump of God,
When all the living and dead in Christ
Awake to observe the holy tryst
In the heavens with Him, whose precious blood

Has made us clean from the stain of guilt,
And pure and white as the driven snow:
For this the flaming sword did go
Deep through Thy soul, Lord, to the hilt.
This is heaven begun! Celestial bliss!
Are not your tears of grief unkind?
I could weep for you who remain behind
From glory stainless such as this.

Would you weep for the wand'rer come again
To his home and all that the heart holds dear,
From a country distant, dark and drear,
From a land of poverty and pain?

Would ye weep for the prisoner stepping forth
From the dungeon foul, or the slave set free?
If not, then wherefore weep for me?
Is Paradise of so little worth?
Victory! Death's dark river contains
Not a drop of water from shore to shore,
Though once it was brimming wrathful o'er,
Swelled with the torrents of driving rains.

But the Ark of the Covenant passed before,
And the waters above all still did stay,
And the waters cut off rolled on their way;
And I cross as the people crossed of yore.

A land of honey, and corn, and wine;
Of crystal fountains, vales and hills;
Where melody celestial thrills
The soul with rapture: this is mine.

I've sometime lived on the farther shore
By the faith of the One who died for me,
But now I go where my eyes shall see,
And help of faith I shall need no more.
Saviour Divine! Godhead in Man!
What shall I say when I see Thy face?
How shall I ever extol Thy grace?
What creature tongue, Lord Jesus, can?
I wait like the bride on the marriage morn,
Who thinks the bridegroom tarries long;
And her mind a thousand fancies throng —
Is he not steadfast, true and sworn?

She hears the zephyrs breathe his name;
The hour of his presence draweth near;
The rustling leaves on her eager ear
Seem to whisper his spotless fame.

Hyperion's brightness cannot vie
With the eyes of the one she waits to greet;
And the moments that pass with flying feet,
To her are lazily crawling by.

The songs of the birds are songs of love;
The flowers that scent the morning air,
The breath of her well-beloved bear;
Round him the wheels of nature move.

Thus am I waiting, and through the haze
Of the misty frontier, I behold,
By the light of His glory, lined with gold
The fringe of the clouds which screen the blaze.
Speed, Lord, the moment when I shall see
Thy face once marred by the bitter tear,
When Thou was the Man of sorrows here,
Seeking poor worthless things like me.

Then shall I fully extol Thy grace,
That spite of my wilfulness would bring
To the feast, in the robe, the shoes, the ring;
As a son to a son's eternal place;

From the far-off land, the famine, the swine,
The blank despair, when all was spent,
To the warm embrace and the merriment,
Unbounded, infinite, divine!
Praised be His mercy, sovereign, free!
The mercy of God — the God of love —
Which stretched a hand from the throne above,
And from destruction rescued me.

For I had gone on my wilful road,
Which was swathed in mists of the nether gloom,
Laden with sin to the sinner's doom,
And tottering underneath the load.

Alas, I knew not, nor cared to know
The glory of Thy most precious name.
Of my pride I fanned the fiery flame
Which around me sparks of hell did throw.

And my helpless forward glance was cast
O'er a future of black, unbridled sin,
With the end of my pathway wreathed within
The judgment of heaven's hottest blast.

But Thy hand, that hand that safely kept,
Was laid on the fountains of my breath
Which failed, and the ghastly form of death
Close to my shuddering body crept.

I see the wisdom of love in all,
I bless the power that thus broke in
On my wild career of wilful sin,
When my ear was deaf to mercy's call.

Thou wouldst kill to cure; Thou wouldst bring me near
Destruction's dread-inspiring brink,
That of my life my soul might think
And before Thy fiery judgment fear.

And Thou didst reveal Thy love to me,
And the mighty ransom Thou hadst found;
And Thou didst turn my steps right round;
Drawn by Thy goodness unto Thee.

And thus to the heart of God brought nigh,
That heart declared in Thy death of woe,
That I Thy holy love might know,
The life of the ransomed host on high;

And find in the home of love my place —
Thy Father mine, Thy God my God;
And the Holy Ghost on me bestowed —
Gift of unfathomable grace!
Love, sovereign, boundless, measureless!
To home and to love my soul press on.
Shout aloud for joy! for before the dawn
I shall have crossed the wilderness.

In death, the worldings dreaded foe,
I see but a slave, who with powerful hand
Shall sever in twain the mortal band
That fetters my spirit here below.

Then present with Him, whose radiant light
Shall fill the vast universe abroad
With the deathless love of a Saviour-God,
Dispelling the clouds of an evil night.
Come, Son of God! From this fragile frame,
A helpless wreck on the shores of time,
I look toward those heights sublime
Where deathless the sons of glory flame;

And with voice which rends the ethereal blue,
From the brink of the grave, from the verdant sod,
I cry for the quickening power of God,
And the sphere wherein all things are new.
Courts blazing with glory! Pure crystal sea!
Pearl portals! Street all of burnished gold!
These some of thy riches, Lord, unfold,
But 'tis with Thyself I long to be.

Thou wilt come in the grey of the morning, Lord;
I shall not sleep till I hear Thy voice.
My inmost soul shall then rejoice
As Thou dost loose the silver cord.

Then dust to dust; and the house of clay,
Which is all Thine own by purchase great,
In blessed hope with Thy dead shall wait
The glorious resurrection day.
Glory supreme! Blest portion mine!
O why should tears fall fast for me?
Could ye but see what my soul can see
In that home of light and love divine,

Ye would long for the wheels of laggard time
More swift to revolve, that along with me,
Ye might far from the world's dark midnight flee,
To a griefless, cloudless, deathless clime.

Goodbye, for I feel that pierced hand,
Warm with the pulse of immortal love,
Drawing me hence to Himself above
Where my spirit shall join the heavenly band.

You will know I am there when the light is fled,
And the pulse is still, and the blinds are drawn,
And the tent cord loosed, and the wanderer gone —
For the body without the spirit is dead.

A Hymn.

COME, Saviour, Son of God, and let the light
Of Thy great love
Illume our hearts, and with its heavenly might
Our spirits move;
Till nothing else is visible, until
Its glory great doth our whole vision fill.

O teach us, Lord, Thy searchless love to know,
Thou, who hast died.
Before our feeble faith, Lord Jesus, shew
Thy hands and side;
That our glad hearts, responsive unto Thine,
May wake with all the power of love divine.

Thy death has brought to light the Father's heart,
And ours has won;
And now we contemplate Thee as Thou art,
God's glorious Son!
And know that we are loved with that great love,
That rests on Thee in those bright courts above.

Thy flesh is meat, Thy blood, blest Saviour, shed,
Is drink indeed;
On Thee, the true, the heavenly, living Bread,
Our souls would feed,
And live with Thee in life's eternal home,
Where neither want, nor woe, nor death can come.

The Watchers' Cry.

Hear, Lord, O hear the weary watchers' cry,
Who thro' the long night scan the face of heaven
With expectation, till the azure sky
Be like a garment riven,

And Thou, long hidden, shalt in royal state
Appear for the salvation of Thine own,
Who during Thy long absence toil and wait,
Despised, rejected, lone.

O rend the heavens! Bid Thy blood-washed throng
Hear Thy triumphant shout, and trump of God,
That their glad hearts may fill with sacred song
The firmament abroad.

Thou true and faithful! Thine so dearly bought,
So loved, can never, Lord, forsaken be;
But in Thine absence everything is naught
Apart from home and Thee.

Thy promise lives as deathless in Thy breast
As when it was pronounced — worlds may decay:
Thy love immortal is, and here we rest,
And wait, and watch, and pray.

The wheels of time have turned, and years have sped,
Long weary years with expectation fraught;
The centuries of hope deferred are dead,
And yet Thou comest not.

We know one day is as a thousand years
With Thee, and years a thousand but one day;
But long delay and disappointment wears
The soul of hope away.

Our hearts have followed Thee where Thou art gone,
Our home is there, our everlasting rest,
Love's dwelling place, the love of God made known
By Thee thro' death expressed.

That holy love, of life the wellspring clear,
Revives our spirits in this desert dry;
The bread of God — Thyself in weakness here —
Our souls doth satisfy.

So that tho' pilgrims in a barren land,
Dry, waste, and desolate, not want we know;
We pass where manna falls upon the sand
And living waters flow.

Yet, as the weary wanderer's lonely heart
Longs to his native hills to wing its flight,
So long we to behold Thee where Thou art,
And walk with Thee in white;

Within those radiant courts with Thee to stand,
Bathed in the light of love's uncurtained rays,
With Thee, the Firstborn of the saintly band
And Leader of their praise;

To see Thee crowned, to hear the universe
With gladness thrilling, "Hallelujah" cry;
To see the sin, the darkness, and the curse,
Before Thy presence fly;

To see Thee welcomed, worshipped, glorified;
To witness in this world, where Thou wast slain,
Where Thou wast humbled, scorned, despised, denied,
Thy triumph and Thy reign.

Come, Son of God! O come, creation bless!
Come, Lord of those that reign! Come, King of kings!
Shine forth in glory, Sun of righteousness,
With healing in Thy wings.

Come, Morning Star! Bid stubborn night begone!
Come in the midst of all the sons of light.
Command the everlasting day to dawn,
With God's love strong and bright.

O come! Creation groans in deep distress.
Come, heavenly Healer of its thousand woes.
Then the wild waste and barren wilderness
Shall blossom as the rose.

O hearken to the Spirit and the bride
Who will not while Thou tarriest be dumb;
Nor shall their invocation be denied,
For Thou shalt surely come.

Death's Terrors.

FEAR'ST thou not death? That hour when to a close
Shall come thy crooked, frivolous career,
And thou perforce shall have to bid adieu
To earth, to country, home and bosom friend,
As things with which thou hast no more to do;
And from wet faces, dear to thee as is
Thy very soul, certain that nevermore,
On those long-loved and grief-beclouded brows,
Thy vision shall be fixed, nor theirs on thine.

O, day of anguish, yet unparalleled!
Day of despair, in which the blinding fogs
Of everlasting night shall darkly close
Upon thy poor distressed, distracted mind;
When that dread life-long struggle with the grim
Destroyer shall be drawing to a close;
When the relentless and untiring foe
His lance shall shorten for the final thrust,
And with increasing energy hard press
His harassed and exhausted victim, and
The battle force; when in thy veins the pulse
Shall feebly flutter, and the cold, damp dews
Shall gather thick upon thy suffering brow;
When friend and lover by thee mute shall stand,
Spectators of the disproportioned strife,
Until thy merciless, victorious foe,
Shall drive the spirit, vitiated, and
Stung with the torment of a conscience wake
To what a life of self-indulgence means,
Forth from the breathless tenement of clay
Into a famine-stricken land, where none
A drop of water can command, with which
To slake the thirst, which like a flame consumes
Its victim through a never ending night.

O day of long leave-taking! day of pain,
Weakness, and wretchedness, and sighs, and sobs,
And griefs, and groans, and woes, and faces pale,
And tears, and breaking hearts, and anxious thoughts,
And dire forebodings, and oppressive gloom,
And blackness, and uncertainty, and fear,
And ruthless snapping of each vital cord
Within thy writhing, racked, and struggling frame;
And horror, as thro' mantling vapours looms
Masked and mysterious the eternal world!

Oh, what a day, nor help nor refuge near,
That thou canst see in heaven or in earth!
When by a friendless gale thy storm-tossed bark,
Awhile the plaything of relentless seas,
Dismantled, shivered, shattered, shall be driven
Helpless before the fury of the storms,
Which break upon the ocean of man's life,
Towards the towering mountains of despair
Which pile their frowning masses up to heaven,
Veiling thou knowest not what; but where on reef
Or sunken rock, or rugged coast, or bar,
Of an unknown, inhospitable land
It shall be cast, bruised, broken, battered, left
A miserable wreck,

What terrors lurk
Within that region, dim, mysterious,
And fenced with nameless fears and horrors huge!
And to whose frowning frontier mariners
Instinctively give ample berth, and sail
As far as possible beyond the sight
Of every beetling cliff, which dimly gleams
Cruel and threatening thro' the veil of cloud,
Draping the margin of the dread unknown.

Then shall have failed thy wealth, and everything
That ministered to pride and happiness;
And poor and naked on that friendless shore
Thou shalt be found. Whatever may have been
Thy earthly circumstances; tho' they were
As wretched as were those of Lazarus,
Within that barren land thy poverty
Shall be so fearfully appalling that
Thy earthly lot shall be accounted wealth.

But if thou fearest this destroyer grim,
And all that meeting him might bring to thee,
There is a refuge near at hand and sure;
A refuge open to the world at large,
To which the fallen sons of men may flee
And shelter find from every form of ill.
That refuge is the Christ of God, and faith
In Him annuls the dreaded sting of death.


WE'LL praise Thee, glorious Victor,
Who met the mighty foe,
And laid in his own stronghold
The power of evil low.

Thou Man of war triumphant,
Girt for the fearful fight
With truth, and faith, and virtue,
And everlasting might;

Thou wentest forth to battle,
Destruction heard Thy fame,
The powers of darkness trembled
At Thine exalted name.

For our redemption, Saviour,
Invested with Thy bright
And glorious armour radiant
With love's own living light,

Thou hast our captor smitten;
Death's waters felt Thy stroke,
Invincible, almighty,
Which their dread power broke;

And depths unfathomed parting
Fled from Thy stern rebuke;
And in their sore confusion
Thy foes with terror shook.

But at Thy word, most Mighty,
The deep once more arose,
And on the host behind us
Poured overwhelming woes.

Nor man, nor horse, nor chariot
Are seen in battle more;
The weltering waters toss them
Like wreckage on the shore.

And Thou hast brought Thy people
From darkness into light;
From base and bitter bondage
To liberty and light;

To God, whose great compassions
Have filled with gratitude
Our hearts, which thus have tasted
And known that God is good.


(John 12:26).
WOULD you wish to be one to work for Me
In a world that needs to know Me?
To serve Me truly, wholeheartedly,
And the depth of your love to show Me?

The works I have done would you wish to do,
Yea, works still more and greater;
That men might be brought from darkness to
Your Father — their Creator?

If so, have courage to stand amid
Profession vain and hollow.
Take up thy cross, and a farewell bid
This world, and My footsteps follow,

And where I am shall My servant be,
In death, or in life, or in glory;
And My Father Himself shall honour thee
Where they sing My deathless story.


No dread of vengeance now
Can to our conscience cleave;
Our condemnation, Thou
Lord Jesus, didst receive;
And in Thy life we live,
And at Thy footstool bow.

The arm which once had driven
The sword of justice thro'
Our hearts Thy heart has riven,
And God-forsaken, too,
While frowned the heavens, we view
Thy soul for our souls given.

Wrath's thunderstorm awoke
That hour with vengeance red;
Deep called to deep, and broke
Upon Thy fenceless head.
Of death and judgment, dread
The angry lightnings spoke.

And we have seen Thee laid
Within the cave secure,
Shut up, and sealed, and made
With watch of warriors sure,
Lest Thy disciples poor
Thy prison should invade.

But with more might than he,
Who once their two new cords
Burst, and like hinds that flee,
Chased the Philistian lords,
While helmets, spears, and swords,
Swam in a bloody sea;

Thou from Thy rocky bed
Didst rise, and cast from Thee
The cords of death, and led
Captive captivity.
And glorified we see
Thee, Saviour, who wast dead.

The ground beneath my feet
Is firm, above my head
The heavens are bright, and sweet
Upon my path are spread
Mercies divine, which shed
Odours of the Increate.

Who shall lift up a voice
With purpose to condemn
The objects of Thy choice,
Or speak of endless shame
To those Thy grace doth claim
For beatific joys?

Silence supreme doth reign
In heaven, earth, and hell;
None can a charge sustain,
No man, nor angel fell.
Let us His praises swell,
Who did the victory gain.

The Necromancer.

THE vicious tendency of men to pry
Into things prudently from mortals hidden,
Especially such mysteries as lie
Within the boundary of spheres forbidden,
Is great, as is the fact that few decry
Such baneful bent of mind, or have it chidden,
When all should frown
At every sight of it, and cry it down.
But no: they let it seethe, and boil, and bubble,
Until it overflows in seas of trouble.

Right from the outset of our sinful state,
Or from the day the angel hosts invaded
This fallen world, with lust inordinate,
And much degraded man still more degraded,
With spirits mortals would associate,
Tho' well they knew the way was barricaded
By Him who knew
What for His creature was the best to do.
'Twere not to his advantage were it granted
That he should have just everything he wanted.

But the desire to force a passage thro'
The barrier which hindered conversation,
Lay not alone with man: the ghostly crew
Wrought with most vehement determination
The bolted door to force or to undo,
And means establish for confabulation;
For, from the first
These spiteful beings, venomous, accurst,
Have sought by their conspiracies infernal
To make man's miserable plight eternal.

The various families throughout the vast
Far-reaching universe had habitation,
In dim and distant ages that are past,
E'en from the foremost hour of their creation,
Marked by their Maker. They no trumpet blast
Of red rebellion, hinting violation
Of regions strange,
Or territory out beyond the range
Of their respective limits, should give heed to,
Nor follow where the tempter fell might lead to.

Their blessing lay in being well content
With that for which their Maker had designed them;
And as His servants true to be intent
On every work which He was pleased to find them;
Knowing that never to one element,
Nor to one sphere He would desire to bind them;
Or fences great
Erect to limit them to one estate,
If it were good for them abroad to travel,
With license every mystery to unravel.

Thousands there are who have their first estate
Inviolate maintained without transgression;
But there are thousands who have risen irate
Against authority; to such regression
Seems never granted, but upon their pate,
The consequences of their indiscretion,
Their vile revolt,
Their treacherous and treasonable fault,
Must one day fall: till then, their course pursuing,
They work assiduously for man's undoing.

'Tis such who in defiance of divine
And wholesome laws respond to all who call them.
Men count their baneful influence benign,
And as their spiritual guides instal them;
Tho' they be but a brood of viperine,
Who men deceive in order to enthral them.
What soul could guess
How false, how mischievous, how merciless,
Are all their diabolic machinations!
And how pernicious their communications!

The silly folk incited to consult
The spirits have been oft the heavy-hearted,
Who hope by means of mysteries occult
To come in contact with their dear departed;
But few escape the terrible result
Of this mad quest when in it they have started.
Soon full of fears,
Old, nervous, feeble, far beyond their years.
And how they cleave to this is past believing;
Deceived themselves, and many more deceiving.

No human spirit may to earth return,
Nor have with living men communication;
With lifeless clay or ashes in an urn
One might as well expect fraternization.
The lost to warn their fellow men may yearn,
But fruitless their most fervent supplication:
None from the wrack
Of hades is permitted to come back
To tell a human being what they found there:
The blest would not; the profligate are bound there.

Therefore no living soul of man can get
The dead to pay to them the least attention,
Neither by table-rapping nor planchette,
Nor any other means that one might mention;
Unless the evil quest of man were met
By the Almighty's special intervention.
As in the case
Of Samuel, when Saul was in disgrace.
But not another instance is narrated
Where dead with living have confabulated.

The dead, by demons who delight in ill,
Impersonated are, and those inquiring,
Not with the spirits of departed will
Converse, but with infernal powers conspiring
The souls of the inquisitive to kill,
By training them in principles bemiring.
And false, or true,
Or vague, the answers at each interview
Leave meddlers muddled, hoping, doubting, fearing;
But ever panting for a fresh appearing.

A certain person I myself have met
Who boasted an illustrious reputation
As necromancer, into touch to get,
And lucid answers gain on each occasion;
In worldly status just a little set
Above the lower order of creation;
And in demand
As one who had the spirits well in hand —
'Tis strange that they to some will answer readily,
To others they keep silence ever steadily.

This man was famous, and in great demand.
At every séance you were sure to find him.
In intimacy with the spirit-band
He left the very best of them behind him.
No spirit could his beck or call withstand;
For this it seemed that nature had designed him.
But what it was
That fitted him to further such a cause,
And give himself so altogether over
To it, I leave the reader to discover.

You may be sure it was not heavenly grace
That gave him such a bent in that direction.
Celestial dew does not the soul debase
Nor qualify it for such vile connection.
Where grace is present there the truth has place,
And demonolatry is in rejection.
The fitness given
For such a calling comes not down from heaven.
For tho' such novelties may be decoying;
To all who touch them they are soul-destroying,

But every mortal has his day down here,
And when his time is up he must be going.
Death puts an end to wilful man's career,
However stupid or however knowing.
From human haunts all men must disappear,
And reap beyond what they have here been sowing.
And so it came
To pass that he of spirit-stirring fame
Lay sick in bed, the malady defying
Man's skill; at last the doctor said, You're dying!

Dying! he shrieked; he shuddered, shook with dread!
Dying! and at the doctor stormed, blaspheming!
Dying! and railed at God, upon his bed
Gasping and grovelling, struggling, swearing, screaming!
Mad for the moment, mad in heart and head,
Mad with the death-dew from his temples teeming.
It was a lie!
He vowed in spite of God he would not die.
Thus with his Maker war unholy waging!
Trembled the house with his infernal raging.

The doctor left him in this desperate state,
But promptly sent two nurses to attend him,
Who from his presence fled in terror great,
Leaving no human being to befriend him.
Two men were sent, but left precipitate
Before the fury that seemed like to rend him.
And thus he died,
With not a living soul by his bedside!
His sun was set, his life on earth was ended.
Gone God to meet! God mocked, blasphemed, offended!

Some time elapsed: his old companions sought
A fitting opportunity to get him
To tell them something of his present thought,
For much he must have learned since last they met him;
Besides a rumour had to them been brought,
The foe had said that they were sure to let him,
Now he was gone,
Sink into darkness and oblivion;
And all the many battles he had fought on
Behalf of spiritism would be forgotten.

Two women specially took up the task
Of getting him to tell how he was faring;
Now, what they heard or witnessed you may ask,
But as to answers — well, I must be sparing;
Satan o'er that event has cast a mask
Lest someone should abroad the truth be blaring.
One home was brought
Brain-fevered, raging with a mind distraught,
Stark-mad the other to the madhouse hurried,
And both within a fortnight dead and buried.

What being fell was seen they never said,
For neither of the twain regained her senses;
They dared invade the precincts of the dead,
That land which with dull melancholy dense is.
One would have thought they might have feared to tread
Beneath their rebel feet their Maker's fences;
And if they fell
In lawless ways among the dogs of hell,
And torn and mangled were, whose was the error? —
In such things, Lord, keep me from being sharer.

A Child's Prayer.

FATHER, I thank Thee, 'tis Thy deep desire
To have a little child's faith fixed on Thee;
And that no gift from me Thou dost require,
Sinful and feeble tho' my heart may be.

In Jesu's blood Thou hast found what doth more
Than meet the dreadful nature of my guilt;
And Thy dear Son, my Saviour, I adore,
And bless Him for His blood so freely spilt.

Although my days on earth as yet are few,
My wayward will has oft Thy precepts crossed;
And were it not Thy grace can this subdue,
I must for all eternity be lost.

I am a little child, and understand
But little of Thy heart, and of my own
Much less indeed; but as my thoughts expand,
Both in Thy school shall unto me be shown.

I do not fear to face the dreadful truth
That mine deceitful is beyond all cure;
But teach, Oh, teach me, Father, in my youth,
The love of Thine that ever shall endure.

Let Thy blest Spirit lead me, bear me up,
Nor leave me to the mercy of my will.
Thou art my Saviour-God, in Thee I hope:
Keep me apart from every form of ill.

Let Jesus fill my thought: Thy Word declares
Thou lovest Him. Let Him securely found
His kingdom in my heart, ere earthly cares,
Or riches sprout and cumber all the ground.

And let me grow in grace, and learn each day
To follow in the steps of Thy dear Son;
Thus pleasing Thee, and leaving Him to say
The word He loves to have to say: "Well done."

The Jewels of the King.

THEN they that feared the Lord — when every heart,
Except one solitary, here and there,
Was lifeless, hard, insensible, and cold,
As those huge hills of ice which float within
The tumbling waters of the Northern seas —
Nearer to one another drew, as when
The frosts of winter, merciless, and keen,
Bite to the bone through garments worn and thin,
The trembling limbs of the defenceless poor,
Who cling together thro' the bitter night
To feel the comfort and the warmth of life.

Thus drew together those who loved the Lord
And thought upon His name, dishonoured now
By such as should have held it as a trust,
Inviolate and sacred, dearer far
Than wealth, or ease, or comfort, or the sweets
Of the vain, fickle, friendship of the world;
Yea, to be held most sacred, hallowed more
Than life itself.

The faithful remnant, far
Removed in heart and spirit from the proud,
Thought oft upon that holy name, and spoke
To one another of His endless love;
Till in the sweetness of that fellowship,
Each saddened heart afresh found life and joy,
And beat responsive to the grace of God.
And He, from whose omniscient holy eye
Is nothing hid, beheld with great delight
The feeble faithful few, where all around,
Black with rebellion, flung back every charge
Of faithlessness, or falsehood in His face,
Who had in patience great, yea, infinite,
And far beyond our power to understand,
But all in vain, endeavoured to recall
Their haughty hearts to righteousness and peace.

The names of those who sought to serve Him then
Were doubly dear to Him; and in the book
Of His remembrance He commanded them
To be inscribed, that they might still appear
Before Him unforgotten. On that page
His holy eye with infinite delight
Shall rest, until that day in which He shall
Show, to the wonder of assembled worlds,
The riches of His grace: And these shall be
Mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that glad day
When I make up My jewels.

Precious words!
Shining like gems of purest ray upon
The page of Holy Writ, and pointing out
A path for all who would be true to Christ,
When at the close of dispensations grown
Weak, and decaying, they must sad at heart
Walk in retirement from the multitude
Who do the evil that the Lord condemns,
And cannot see they have done ought amiss.

Oh, what an honour to be thus allowed
To walk alone! to be despised, reproached,
Accounted nothing by the proud and great
Who anything prefer before the One
Who came from heaven and from the form of God,
To dark Golgotha with its shame and woe,
That from the gloom of death's domain, and from
The consequences of our ruined state,
A highway of deliverance might be made,
And that our souls might be securely set
Forever in the light of His great love.

Then as the days grow darker, and as night
In all its blackness seems to settle down
On that which Christian still subscribes itself,
But yet denies what makes Him what He is
To heavy-laden and to weary souls,
Let those who love Him speak together oft;
And though they may not, in the world's account,
Be of the least importance, if His name
We think upon together, and if He
Is everything to us, we may be sure
The Father's heart is gratified, and He
Numbers such up among His jewels rare.