O, the thought, it is consoling,
That your darling is at rest;
And in glory she is singing,
Where no grief can pain her breast.
Weep not then, thou tender mother,
Tho' your darling's borne away;
Jesus Christ will now relieve you,
If to him you'll humbly pray ;
Mourn not indulgent father,
'Tis the Lord that doth afflict; He will sanctify it to you,
If his grace you humbly seek.
See, your Savior's now approaching,
Now in pity he draws nigh;
Love it swells his holy bosom,
When the tear drops from your eye; See his arms of love extended,
O, to them now quickly fly; Though your heart with grief is rending; He will hush the deepest sigh.
Yet again in Heaven you'll meet her,
If you serve your God below;
And she'll welcome you to glory,
She your image there will know;
Glory, hallelujah, glory,
Oh, the thought fills with delight;
That in heaven we hope to meet her,
In that blessed world of light.
ABRAHAM OFFERING UP ISAAC.
[And they came to the place which God had told him of, and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order; and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son. And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham. And he said, Here am I.--Gen. 22: 9 to 11.]
To mount Moriah I would fly,
And view the Patriarch;
He offers up his first-born son,
The darling of his heart.
Methinks I hear the son now say,
The altar I'll prepare;
But of the lamb for sacrifice,
Father be yours the care.
Methinks the altar now I see,
Isaac is bound and laid;
His bosom it is opened wide,
For to receive the blade.
Again the aged father looks,
Upon his darling child;
The hope of his declining years,
The boy looked up and smiled.
Abraham, now spare thine only son,
Thy faith I now can see;
For righteousness I will it count,
Thou dost believe in me.
Oh! why do christians ever doubt,
Or let their faith grow cold;
He offered up his all to God,
Nor did his son withhold.
DEAR SISTER PAULINE --I accept your invitation, and address the following piece for your album.
What diamond's that which shines so bright,
It does not glow with borrowed light;
It sits upon a gilded throne,
Its honors are indeed its own;
Its robe is made of sunbeams bright,
The God of love it doth delight.
My name is Truth the diamond cries,
I am a native of the skies ;
I dwell among the shining spheres,
For you I count the rolling years:
The world upon my sholders stand,
And angels fly at my command.
O, think me not a worthless thing,
Because I am slighted by a king;
No blood is on my sceptre found,
Though on my head I wear a crown;
But praise and honor do combine,
And round my head with glory shine.
The three in one they now reply,
I am the diamond of the sky;
The Ancient then of days replied,
I am to man no erring guide;
Sell not this truth my sister dear,
For you my heart doth often fear.
Welcome spring, thou hast returned,
But who unlocked old winters arms?
Who broke the icy chains that bound,
And made the streams flow nimbly down.
The winter frosts have taken leave,
For them I'm sure I cannot grieve;
Few are the charms the pale face brings,
I fondly love thee, vernal spring.
Those winds that shook the giant oak;
Their power and fierceness now seem broke;
The balmy breeze now softly blows,
And stoops to kiss the budding rose.
How mild and placid is the sky,
1 wish that spring might never die;
Its life I would perpetuate,
And of its gentleness partake.
A carpet soon of richest green,
On every meadow will be seen;
Like diamonds then appears the dew,
And fragrant flowers of various hue.
The birds that warble on the spray,
With songs now hail the breaking day;
Their notes of joy now sweetly sing,
And usher in the new-born spring.
Bleak winter has no charms for me,
The fields and flowers 1 cannot see ;
I hear the busy hum of spring,
I hear the woodland songsters sing.
Spring is not spring to me I say,
Until the sparkling fountains play;
On spring I oft with rapture dwell,
While music fills the woodland dell.
AN APPEAL TO MY BROTHER, O, S. G.
Come brother dear, I pray attend,
And listen while I tell;
How Jesus died our souls to save,
All from a burning hell.
'Twas far beyond the starry skies,
He left the shining courts;
Came down to earth and bled and died,
That man might not be lost.
Behold him now at Pilates bar,
Though guiltless yet condemned;
His sacred flesh with whips they tore,
No mercy would they lend.
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