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Taught its dear mother soon to know,
The simplest babe its love can show:
Bid bashful servile fear retire,
The task no labour will require.

The sovereign Father, good and kind,
Wants but to have his child resign'd;
Wants but thy yielded heart (no more)—
With his rich gifts of grace to store.
He to thy soul no anguish brings,
From thy own stubborn will it springs;
That foe but crucify, thy bane,

Nought shalt thou know of frowns or pain.

Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelm'd, deprest,
Th' incumbering load that galls its rest;
That wastes her strength with bondage vain ;
With courage break th' enslaving chain!
Let faith exert its conquering power;
Say, in thy fearing, trembling hour,
"Father! thy pitying aid impart!
"Tis done; a sigh can reach his heart.

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Yet if, more earnest plaints to raise,
Awhile his succours he delays;

Though his kind hand thou canst not feel,
The smart let lenient patience heal;
Or if corruption's strength prevail,
And oft thy pilgrim footsteps fail,
Lift for his grace thy louder cries,
So shalt thou cleansed and stronger rise.
If haply still thy mental shade
Deep as the midnight's gloom be made,
On the sure faithful arm divine
Firm let thy fast'ning trust recline.

Unto death, to whom monarchs must bow? Ah, no! for his empire is known,

And here there are trophies enow!

Beneath the cold dead, and around the dark stone,
Are the signs of a sceptre that none may disown.
The first tabernacle to Hope we will build,
And look for the sleepers around us to rise!

The second to Faith, which ensures it fulfill'd; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice, Who bequeath'd us them both when he rose to the skies.



"Tis not too hard, too high an aim,
Secure thy part in Christ to claim;
The sensual instinct to control,
And warm with purer fires the soul.
Nature will raise up all her strife,
Foe to the flesh-abasing life,
Loth in a Saviour's death to share,
Her daily cross compell'd to bear;
But grace omnipotent at length

Shall arm the saint with saving strength;
Through the sharp war with aids attend,
And his long conflict sweetly end.

Act but the infant's gentle part,
Give up to love thy willing heart;
No fondest parent's tender breast

Yearns, like thy God's, to make thee blest;

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From thy own stubborn wi. ¦ springy
That foe but crucify, thy bane,
Nought shalt thou know of frowns or pain.
Shake from thy soul, o'erwhelm'd, deprest.
Th' incumbering load that gails its rest.
That wastes her strength with bondage an
With courage break th' enslaving

Let faith exert its conquering ow**
Say, in thy fearing, Tembang da
"Father! thy ptune af

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The gentlest sire, the best of friends,
To thee, nor loss nor harm intends ;
Though tossed on the boist'rous main,
No wreck thy vessel shall sustain.
Should there remain of rescuing grace
No glimpse, no shadow left to trace,
Hear thy Lord's voice; ""Tis Jesus' will;"
Believe, thou dark lost pilgrim, still.

Then thy sad night of terrors past,
Though the dread season long may last,
Sweet peace shall from the smiling skies
Like a new dawn before thee rise;

Then shall thy faith's firm grounds appear,
Its eyes shall view salvation clear,
Be hence encouraged more, when tried,
In the best Father to confide.

O my too blind but nobler part,

Be moved! be won by these, my heart!
See of how rich a lot, how bless'd,
The true believer stands possess'd!

Come, backward soul, to God resign ;
Peace, his best blessing, shall be thine;
Boldly recumbent on his care,
Cast thy full burden only there.


OH, ETERNAL! hear our prayer,
For we are passing swift away,
Like ECHO on the wayward air,
Or dew upon the leafy spray,

Exhaled amid the sunny ray,

That in the mid-day is not found:

We are but dust-we are but clayA breath, a vapour, and a sound,

Heard for a moment brief, then lost to all around!
Oh, INFINITE !-for we are nought!
A fragile flower-a broken reed-
Life's mockery-time's cruel sport!
The worm waits in the brain to breed,
The viper on the heart to feed.

Oh, less than nought! a speck! a stain
On nature's page! a noisome weed!

And all we hold is false and vain,

Save our birthright of woe, and heritage of pain!

Oh, MOST MIGHTY! we are weak

A brittle vase-a shatter'd urn! Corruption lingers now, to wreak

Her vengeance on us, and to turn

The heart that fain in prayer would burn To ashes!-then, Most Mighty! waken Hope in this sinking breast, and have

Mercy when it is all forsaken,

Like some o'erthrown and ruin'd cave,

Foul with the taint of sin, and darksome as the grave.

Oh, OMNISCIENT!-for all dark,

And deadly dim and drear we feel;
And what, to this poor prison'd spark
Call'd soul, can idle life reveal?
Or what can paltry time unseal?
Do we not grope in blindness here?

Are we not lost when we would rise
Above this sublunary sphere?

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