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“ Abide with us, for it is towards evening."-LUKE xxiv. 29.
Abide with us—the evening shades
Begin already to prevail ;
Dark clouds along the horizon sail.
Abide with us—the night is chill,
And damp and cheerless is the air ; Be our companion, Stranger still,
And thy repose shall be our care.
Abide with us—thy converse sweet,
Has well beguiled the tedious way; With such a friend we joy to meet;
We supplicate thy longer stay.
Abide with us—for well we know,
Thy skill to cheer the gloomy hour, Like balm thy honied accents flow,
Our wounded spirits feel their power.
Abide with us—and still unfold
Thy sacred, thy prophetic lore; What wondrous things of Jesus told !
Stranger, we thirst, we pant for more.
Abide with us and still converse
Of him who late on Calvary died Of him our prophecies rebearse,
He was our friend they crucified.
Abide with us—our hearts are cold,
We thought that Israel he'd restore ; But sweet the truths thy lips have told,
And, Stranger, we complain no more.
Abide with us—we feel the charm
That binds us to an unknown friend : Here pass the night secure from harm,
Here, Stranger, let thy wanderings end.
Abide with us—to their request,
The Stranger bows, with smiles divine ; Then round the board the unknown guest,
And weary travellers recline.
Abide with us-amaz’d they cry,
As suddenly, whilst breaking bread, Their own lost Jesus meets their eye,
With radiant glory on his head.
Abide with us—thou heavenly friend,
Leave not thy followers thus alone :
The heavenly visitant is gone!
“Let me go for the Day breaketh.”
Cease here longer to detain me,
Fondest Mother, drown'd in woe,
Morn advances—let me go !
See yon orient streak appearing,
Harbinger of endless day :-
Calls my new-born soul away.
Lately launch'd a trembling stranger,
On the world's wide boist'rous flood, Pierc'd with sorrows, toss'd with dangers,
Gladly I return to God.
Now my cries shall cease to grieve thee,
Now my trembling heart finds rest,
Softer pillow than thy breast.
Weep not o'er those eyes that languish,
Upward turning towards their home,
While they wait to see thee come!
There, my Mother, pleasures centre,
Weeping, parting, pain or care,
Morn advances let me go!
As thro’ this calm holy dawning,
Silent glides my parting breath,
Gently close my eyes in death.
Blessings, endless, richest blessings
Pour their streams upon thy heart,
Breathes my spirit e're we part.
Yet to leave thee sorrowing rends me,
Though his voice again I hear,
The above lines were presented by the Rev. R. Cecil to his wife, upon the death of a child, which took place at day-breake
The Enchcape Bell.
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea.
Without either sign or sound of the shock,
(The worthy abbot of Aberbrothock
When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell,
The float of the Inchcape bell was seen,