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with a It came again,
The angel wrote, and omished. The wat
night a great wakasing light hind sheath the names álom love of gas but then, And lo! Ben Atkem's name led all the rest
There This bleas Thanksgining tight,
POEMS OF RELIGION.
MY GOD, I LOVE THEE.
I hope for heaven thereby ;
Must burn eternally.
Upon the cross embrace !
And manifold disgrace.
And sweat of agony,
That was thine enemy.
Should I not love thee well ?
Nor of escaping hell !
Not seeking a reward ;
O everlasting Lord !
And in thy praise will sing,
ST. FRANCIS XAVIER (Latin). Translation
For as thou dost impart thy grace,
The greater shall our glorie be.
The stuffe with thee.
A life as barren to thy praise
But with delaies.
Neither bring hony with the bees,
To water these.
But all my companie is a weed.
To my poore reed.
THE NEW JERUSALEM.
of EDWARD CASWELL.
O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem,
When shall I come to thee ?
Thy joys when shall I see?
O sweet and pleasant soil !
Nor grief, nor care, nor toil.
Nor gloom, nor darksome night; But every soul shines as the sun,
For God himself gives light. Thy walls are made of precious stone,
Thy bulwarks diamond-square,
O God ! if I were there!
Thy joys when shall I see ? —
And thy felicity ?
IF as a flowre doth spread and die,
Thou wouldst extend me to some good, Before I were by frost's extremitie
Nipt in the bud, The sweetnesse and the praise were thine ;
Fut the extension and the room Which in thy garland I should fill were mine
At thy great doom.
DARKNESS IS THINNING.
Thy gardens and thy goodly walks
Continually are green, Where grow such sweet and pleasant flowers
As nowhere else are seen.
Quite through the streets with pleasing sound
The flood of life doth flow ; And on the banks, on every side,
The trees of life do grow.
DARKNESS is thinning; shadows are retreating;
God the Almighty !
Glory hereafter !
Blessing and glory!
of J. M. NEALE.
These trees each month yield ripened fruit ;
Forevermore they spring,
To thee their honors bring.
Jerusalem, God's dwelling-place
Full sore I long to see ; O that my sorrows had an end,
That I might dwell in thee !
I LOVE, AND HAVE SOME CAUSE
I long to see Jerusalem,
The comfort of us all ; For thou art fair and beautiful,
None ill can thee befall.
I LOVE, and have some cause to love, the earth, –
She is my Maker's creature, therefore goud; She is my mother, for she gave me birth ;
She is my tender nurse, she gives me food : But what 's a creature, Lord, compared with
thee? Or what's my mother or my nurse to me?
No candle needs, no moon to shine,
No glittering star to light ; For Christ the King of Righteousness
Forever shineth bright.
0, passing happy were my state,
Might I be worthy found To wait upon my God and King,
His praises there to sound !
Jerusalem! Jerusalem !
Thy joys fain would I see ;
I love the air, - her dainty sweets refresh
My drooping soul, and to new sweets invite me; Her shrill-mouthed choir sustain me with their
flesh, And with their polyphonian notes delight me: But what's the air, or all the sweets that she
Can bless my soul withal, compared to thee? I love the sea,
-she is my fellow-creature, My careful purveyor ; she provides me store ; She walls me round ; she makes my diet greater ;
She wafts my treasure from a foreign shore : But, Lord of oceans, when compared with thee, What is the ocean or her wealth to me?
DROP, DROP, SLOW TEARS.
DROP, drop, slow tears,
And bathe those beauteous feet Which brought from heaven
The news and prince of peace ! Cease not, wet eyes,
His mercies to entreat ; To cry for vengeance
Sin doth never cease ; In your deep floods
Drown all my faults and fears ; Nor let his eye
See sin but through my tears.
Time posteth, O, how fast ! Unwelcome death makes haste ; None can call back what's past,
Judgment delays not ; Though God bring in the light,
Sinners awake not, Because hell's out of sight,
They sin forsake not.
If not possessed, if not enjoyed in thee,
What's earth, or sea, or air, or heaven to me? The highest honors that the world can boast
Are subjects far too low for my desire ;
But dying sparkles of thy living fire ;
But nightly glow-worms if compared to thee. Without thy presence, wealth is bags of cares ;
Wisdom but folly ; joy, disquiet, sadness; Friendship is treason, and delights are snares ; Pleasures but pain, and mirth but pleasing
madness, Without thee, Lord, things be not what they be,
Nor have their being, when compared with thee. In having all things, and not thee, what have I ?
Not having thee, what have my labors got ? Let me enjoy but thee, what further crave I ?
And having thee alone, what have I not?
Man walks in a vain show ;
But run for sha lows,
In Christ's sweet meadows. Life's better slept away
Than as they use it; In sin and drunken play
Vain men abuse it.