“ The life of life departs;
The body in the grave is laid,
Its beauty in our hearts.
Professor Wilson.
Sleep on, sleep on, ye resting dead;
The grass is o’er ye growing
In dewy greenness. Ever fled
From you hath Care; and in its stead
Peace hath with you its dwelling made,
Where tears do cease from flowing—
Sleep on!
Robert Nicol.
All at rest now—all dust!—wave flows on wave;
But the sea dries not!—what to us the grave?
It brings no real homily; we sigh,
Pause for awhile and murmur, “all must die!”
Then rush to pleasure, action, sin once more,
Swell the loud tide, and fret unto the shore. ”

“ The Lord’s own day! to man’s Creator owed,
And man’s Redeemer; for the soul’s increase
In sanctity, and sweet repose bestowed;
Type of the rest, when sin and care shall cease,
The rest remaining for the lov’d of God.
Bishop Mant.
Lord of the Sabbath, hear our vows,
On this Thy day, in this Thy house,
And own, as grateful sacrifice,
The songs which from the desert rise.
Thine earthly sabbaths, Lord, we love,
But there’s a nobler rest above;
To that our labouring souls aspire,
With ardent pangs of strong desire.
No more fatigue, no more distress,
Nor sin nor hell shall reach the place ”

“ Whose eye looks up to God; and ne’er unbends
Its fixed and placid gaze to look upon
The thorns that tear her bleeding breast; who stands
Pale, calm, unmoved amid the storms of life;
Whose soul weeps not for heart’s torture—patience,
The meek-eyed pilgrim of the earth, that child
Of heaven—perfection’s crown.
C. L. Reddell.
For God, who binds the broken heart,
And dries the mourner’s tear,
If faith and patience be their part,
Will unto these be near.
Let such but say “Thy will be done!”
And He who Jesus raised,
Will qualify them, through His Son,
To say “Thy name be praised!” ”

“ Bowed His anointed head, and with His blood
Purchased redemption for our fallen race—
And blessed they, who to that holy task
Devote the energies of their young years,
Teaching, with pious care, the dawning light
Of infant intellect to know the Lord.
C. Huntingdon.
The life that makes the heart to beat,
The light that from the heavens doth shine,
My daily strength,—the bread I eat,—
All, all, great Lord of Life, are thine.
Then let me seek Thee daily, Lord,
At morn, at noontide, and at even;
And do Thy will, and know Thy word,
That I may be Thy child in heaven! ”

“ Your trumpets, angels; and arise, arise,
From death you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go,
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o’erthrow,
All whom war, death, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain; and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death’s woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and men mourn a space;
For if above all these my sins abound,
’Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace,
When we are there; here, on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that’s as good
As if Thou hadst sealed my pardon with Thy blood. ”

“ Frail children of dust,
And feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust,
Nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender,
How firm to the end!
Our Maker—Defender,
Redeemer, and Friend.
O measureless might!
Ineffable love!
While angels delight
To hymn Thee above,
The humbler creation,
Though feeble their lays,
With true adoration,
Shall lisp to Thy praise.
Sir R. Grant.
Do good, shun evil: live not thou
As if at death thy being died,
Nor error’s syren voice allow
To draw thy steps from truth aside;
Look to thy journey’s end—the grave! ”

“ His life, his hope, his god, his all is gold.
“To-morrow, and to-morrow,” he will say,
“Soul, take thine ease, for thou hast many a day
Whose smiling dawns will make thee to rejoice.”
Hush! Hark the echoes of that awful voice!
“Thou fool! This night yield up thy earthly trust!”
Gaze once again, his treasures are but dust.
B. D. Winslow.
Gold! gold! in all ages the curse of mankind,
Thy fetters are forged for the soul and the mind:
The limbs may be free as the wings of a bird,
And the mind be the slave of a look or a word. ”

“ Messiah founded, when His truth declar’d
In meekness lies the majesty of man!
At once the wisdom of the world was dumb,
And fortune blasted on her throne of bliss.
The ways of pleasantness, the paths of peace,
Are dim and narrow, tracks of noiseless gloom
Which glory flies, and grandeur seldom walks:
The poor in spirit, and the meek in heart,
Who thirst and hunger for Thy righteous word.—
Oh! these are blest, for Thine unerring voice
Hath call’d them so.
R. Montgomery.
Behold! where, in the friend of man,
Appears each grace divine:
The virtues, all in Jesus met,
With mildest radiance shine. ”

“ Is like a member that’s benumbed with sleep;
Which, as it gathers blood, and wakes again,
It shoots, and pricks, and feels as big as ten.
Quarles.
The swelling of an outward fortune can
Create a prosperous, not a happy, man;
A peaceful conscience is the true content,
And wealth is but her golden ornament.
Quarles.
Divine authority, within man’s breast,
Brings every thought, word, action, to the test;
Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains,
As reason, or as passion takes the reins.
Heaven from above, and Conscience from within,
Cries in his startled ear,—Abstain from sin. ”

“ I suffer now for what hath former been,
Sorrow is held the eldest son of sin.
John Webster.
Peace was theirs, and harmony within,
They know no sorrow, for they know no sin.
Whyte.
Whate’er thy lot, whoe’er thou be,
Confess thy folly,—kiss the rod;
And in thy chastening sorrow, see
The hand of God.
A bruised reed He will not break—
Afflictions all His children feel:
He wounds them for His mercy’s sake—
He wounds to heal.
James Montgomery.
With boldness, therefore, at the throne
Let us make all our sorrows known;
And ask the aid of heavenly power
To help us in the evil hour. ”

“ My rock, my fortresse, for thy honour aid,
And my engaged feet from danger guide,
Pull from their subtile snares in secret laid,
O thou, my only strength, so often try’d.
O let thy face upon thy servant shine;
Save for thy mercies sake, from shame defend.
Shame cover those who keepe no lawes of thine,
And undeplored to the grave descend!
Sandys.
How are thy servants blest O Lord!
How sure is their defence!
Eternal wisdom is their guide,
Their help omnipotence.
In midst of dangers, fears, and death,
Thy goodness I’ll adore;
And praise thee for thy mercies past,
And humbly hope for more. ”

“ Thou hast shrined, for bale or bliss,
An immortal soul in thee!
But that this undying guest
Shares thy body’s degradation,
Until slavery’s bonds unblest,
Check each kindling aspiration.
And what should have been thy light,
Shining e’en beyond the grave,
Turns to darkness worse than night,
Leaving thee a hopeless slave!
Such is Slavery! Couldst thou bear
Its vile bondage? Oh! my brother,
How, then, canst thou, wilt thou dare
To inflict it on another?
Bernard Barton.
Slave-mart!—
Oh, mart of blood!—but God for vengeance cries,
And man shall shrink when slaves in judgment rise ”

“ His power vindictive just, and call him Honour,
All cannot sanctify what public good
What nature’s moral dictates disavow,
And Heaven’s almighty mandate impious deems.
Samuel Hayes.
Honour—in blood congealed to take a life,
Which had been murder in the heat of strife!
Honour—when its result we dare not tell!
Honour—to plunge a fellow’s soul to hell!
Honour—to stand to be a murderer’s mark,
And hurl defiance e’en with life’s last spark;
To dare that law which has for ages stood—
“He dies by man who sheds a brother’s blood!” ”

“ When Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood,
In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns her Maker good.
The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the shade;
The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade;
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way,
The moon and stars their Maker’s name in silent pomp display.
Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky—
Shall man, alone unthankful, his meed of praise deny?
No,—let the sun forsake its course, the seasons cease to be,
Thee, Maker, must we still adore; and, Saviour, honour Thee. ”

“ Behold I lay in Zion a stumbling-stone and rock of offence; and whosoever believeth on Him shall not be ashamed.—Romans, ix. 33.
Glorious things of thee are spoken,
Zion, city of our God!
He, whose word cannot be broken,
Formed thee for His own abode.
On the rock of ages founded,
What can shake Thy sure repose?
With salvation’s walls surrounded,
Thou may’st smile at all Thy foes.
Saviour, if of Zion’s city
I through grace a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in the name.
Fading is the worldling’s pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show ”