404. And art thou desponding, and lonely, and lorn? And art thou a wanderer, and weary, and worn? And dost thou look forward the wide world to roam In sorrow and sadness? and hast thou no home? Has the wild ass a refuge when worn and oppress'd? Can the stork of the desert repose on her nest? Has the night-bird her bower, and the lion his lair? And hast thou no home in this wide world of care? O yes: there's a Saviour who suffer'd and died For the worn and the weary; and He can provide The wanderer a welcome, though long he may roam; The friendless a friend, and the homeless a home. Submit to his guidance, for He can control they, And the proud waves of ocean his whispers obey. Trust thou in his mercy: his goodness can save From the terrors of death, and redeem from the grave; He shall lighten thy pathways when dark they appear, And remove thee to heaven, and thy home shall be there. 405. So sure as death awhile shall reign, 406. Think, Reader, of the power of the Almighty: if it be put forth in thy favour, what shall harm thee? if it be directed against thee, who shall preserve thee from destruction? 407. When from my friends I parted, and hasten'd to the shore, I little thought that farewell included evermore; But He who orders wisely in mercy had decreed, That soon from toil and danger my spirit should be freed. I mark'd the mighty ocean, while sitting at the stern; And the warm glow of devotion made my ardent bosom burn: My eye was calmly resting on the tranquil sea below, When a storm came on-the lightning flashed full upon my brow. Then rose the heaving billow above the mountains high: How awful was the season, no human succour nigh! My heart was nearly bursting, as I gaz'd towards the shore, And thought upon those dear ones whom I should meet no more. Our vessel wreck'd and sinking, no earthly power could save, And soon we found in ocean a deep and watery grave: But He who stills the tempest, whose wise decrees are best, Steer'd my soul into the haven of his eternal rest. 408. When, stranger, thine eyes with amazement behold The sepulchre modell'd with marble and gold, N 409. I have entered into that rest which remaineth for the people of God, where the vain shadows of time are lost in the glorious light of eternity. 410. A gallant young captain of Albion is dead; The dear ones who saw him depart from the strand, Linger long on the pebbled shore ; But their eyes dwell in vain on the foaming main ; They will see their young hero no more. His voice is not heard on the loud howling winds, Listless and long is his slumber; Yet his spirit shall rest in the land of the bless'd, With glorified saints without number. 411. Though youth and health thy days adorn, Reflect, and ponder well On death-the resurrection morn The judgment-heaven and hell. 412. Joyous and bright was my morn of life, My night in gloom was shrouded. But I a brighter morn shall see, 413. He is now entered into that world where hope is lost in enjoyment, and faith is swallowed up in the unclouded visions of eternal glory. 414. Expect not on this graven stone Who trusted in the Lord alone Enough that here in marble wrought For that should teach thy glowing thought |