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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
The sins and the sorrows that burden thy soul;
The storm and the whirlwind, his creatures are

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,
And bid their sorrows cease,
The dead in Christ shall rise again,
And live in joy and peace.

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,
O think less of thy dust, that will moulder away,
And more of thy soul, that shall never decay.

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;
His windingsheet is the white billow;
The fathomless ocean now pillows his head;
His flag droops like the weeping willow.

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 noon was somewhat clouded,
Shadows prevail'd at eventide,

My night in gloom was shrouded.

But I a brighter morn shall see,
And hail Redemption's story;
Nor cloud, nor eventide, nor night,
Obscure my endless glory.

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
To read his unknown worth,

Who trusted in the Lord alone
Through every hour on earth.

Enough that here in marble wrought
His honour'd name is given;

For that should teach thy glowing thought
To rise from earth to heaven.

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