ROMANS VIII. 28.

"AND WE KNOW THAT ALL THINGS WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD TO THEM THAT LOVE GOD."

THE winds were loud, the night was chill,

No star-gleams slept upon the hill:

To brighter scenes I winged my way,
And mingled with perpetual day!

I mused on those who wander here
In "trembling hope" and filial fear,
But, glowing with celestial fire,
To ever-blooming joys aspire.
A darkly mingled cup is theirs;
Many their foes, nor few their cares ;
Their Father's love is rich, but wise;
And oft their character he tries,
By pain-by grief-by outward ills-
By budding hopes, which sorrow chills-
By want-disease-by friends who die
By tears, which withered joys supply.
Were earth alone their home confessed,

And the cold grave their final rest,
Theirs were a lot but ill defined

A nameless agony of mind!

But lift the veil, the future scan

This stormy world conceals the plan

By Wisdom framed, by Love controuled,
To save each wanderer of the fold.

Oh, when the heart's disease is healed,
And God's impression brightly sealed
When all the bosom-pulses beat
In moral harmony complete;

And all thy Godlike Love displayed,
Gethsemane! the heart hath swayed;
When earth-born pleasures weave no more
Their cruel spells; when, from the store
Of consecrated thought, high themes
Wake ever, and the spirit deems
A Saviour's grace the only joy,
A Saviour's praise the just employ;
When all Affection's grasping force,
Unbroken, clings to God, its source;
Then shall the day celestial dawn,
And, earthly images withdrawn,
In robes of light, at God's right hand,
'Mid visions fair, the soul shall stand!
Yes! then the chain its links shall close,
And bind the bosom to repose;
Dark providence no more seem strange,
Nor blooming seasons fear a change!

PSALM LXXIII. 24.

"THOU SHALT guide me wITH THY COUNSEL, AND AFTERWARDS RECEIVE ME WITH GLORY."

AMBITION Swells; self-love misleads;

The wounded bosom quickly bleeds:
Earth yields no med'cine for the mind-
Passion's delusive, Reason blind.

Unwise, inconstant, weak, and vain,
Who shall my feeble steps sustain ?
Where shall I find a lasting rest?

A reed which will not pierce the breast?

Oh, SAVIOUR! on the storm-toss'd wave
My fragile bark 'tis thine to save!

'Tis thine the beacon-light to rear ;
Then ocean wrecks I need not fear!

Be Thou my wisdom, Thou my guide;
Within my heart thy precepts hide :
Traced out by Thee, my path is right;
Noble my aim, my prospect bright.

I

I know there are, who, life survey'd,

Believe it clear, without a shade; Give their affections to the scene,

Nor dream of clouds that intervene !

Soon flies the vision! but they wake

Too late the baffled heart will break!

Others the fields of science roam,

There to erect a quiet home:

Alas! the hour of trial speeds;

Some comfort dies-despair succeeds. Or Conscience whispers, in the night, That all within may not be right.

Cold Science sheds no lustre here;

Still grate those accents on the ear; They will not pause: the voice is strong, And wakens fears a restless throng!

Oh! who can tell the gloomy state

Of him who dreads to meet his fate;

Who walks amidst perpetual tombs,

And, sighing, says, "Here nothing blooms!"

JESUS! thy counsel meets my case,

And bids me earth-born wishes chase;

Tells me to curb Affection's power,

Nor build a nest where tempests lower!

I would obey thy high behest,

Nor ask that Earth should be my rest; For future ills my heart prepare,

And cast on Thee my every care.

If wrecked the hopes which Fancy forms;
If on my path the wintry storms
Of Sorrow fall; if future time

Forbid that life should reach its prime;

Or if in early youth, alone,

I gaze upon the sculptured stone Which covers all to me most dear, And oft receives the gushing tear;

Still, JESUS! thou shalt guide my hand, And watch me through the desert land;

Thy counsel shall my tears restrain,

And make me feel that loss is gain!

Sweet will it be to trust Thy care,

And in Thy bosom pour my prayer; Sweet will it be Thine arm to need,

And on thy hidden "manna" feed!

Thus suns will roll, till from the west

Life's setting beams will gild my breast;

And, as I heave my latest sigh,

Thy tender love will strength supply!