Child! that to hours of busy play
Dost health and gladness bring-
That, tireless, seem'st all summer day
A blithe bird on the wing-
Thou surely art a gift to bless
The earth, by sorrow trod,
And yet thy wealth of happiness
We consecrate to God.
Youth that with careless step dost tread
The flowery road of bliss,
And shunning brighter worlds, art led
To seek thy heaven in this, -
We watch thy wayward way with pain,
And asking mightier care
To guard thy inexperience, fain
Would yield thee up in prayer.
Oh, as we ponder o'er the path
Which ye, alone, must walk,
And mark where skies are mustering wrath,
And storms together talk, –
Remembering He who safely guides
The wrack, is round ye too,
That He life's twilight kindly bides
To whom was given its dew-
We gather round His shielding love,
And weep as we draw near;
There is no studded crown above
So precious as that tear.
Yet, in His presence, words are weak,
Desire is mighty, we
Ask boon that Time can never speak,
That means Eternity.
Even angels look-such offering paid,
Where love intense has part-
To see it on that altar laid,
An anxious mother's heart; Acceptable to God, who strung
Each fine mysterious string;
And who, to move the thoughtless young, Doth touch the hidden spring.
MANY ways, Jehovah! Thou
Hast to make the sinner bow;
Many gracious ways to bring
Home the lost and wandering —
Journeyers in forbidden roads,
Whom a guilty conscience goads;
And the thoughtless, who is free
From its stingings, Lord, to thee
Thou dost win in many ways,
And to thee be all the praise !
Some thou callest in a tone
Musical as Mercy's own.
Is upon the spirit riven,
Not of earth, but all of heaven.
Some thou callest by the loud
Thunderings of thy judgment cloud ;
When the midnight volleying peal
Doth to quickened thought reveal
All of vileness, dared and done,
All of utter ruin won.
When transgressors, that were wooing
Pleasure to the soul's undoing,
Pause, bewildered-look within,
Look to Christ, and leave their sin.
By the path of sorrow, thou
Leadest stricken parents now;
She who bendeth silently
O'er the child that soon must die,
Thou dost call in every groan
Of that sufferer, to her own
Keener anguish answering, —
Thou in bitterness dost bring,
That she may of mercy sing,
And from flowerets of the tomb
Turn to trees of living bloom.
Some by sickness thou dost call, -
Some, above a buried friend,
Ponder on their latter end.
Others, shuddering at the pall,
Winding sheet, and sepulchre,
Some, in visions of the night;
Some, when basking in the bright
Beamings of prosperity;
Some in abject poverty.
Some-filled up existence' page —
Thou dost call in wintry age;
most sweet and pleasant flowers
Offer thee their vernal hours.
Some, in their ancestral halls,
Some, as beggared prodigals;
Some, the anxious father's care,
Poured out in the midnight prayer;
Some, a mother's quiet tear
To the kingdom bringeth near.
Plaintive hymn dissolves that soul,
This, the noble organ's roll;
Some, a single caution wins;
This one stops, in view of sins
Raging round him like a flood,
And rebuked, alarmed, to God
Flies he in the troublous hour,
Only safe with Sovereign Power.
Some, within their cedar rooms,
Others, wrapt in dungeon glooms.
Some, whose lot with thrones is cast,
Some, upon the giddy mast;
Some, before the public gaze,
Some, in secret. Many ways
Of compassion, Lord! hast thou!
Teaching rebel men to bow;
Many ways to bring to thee
Wilful heart and stubborn knee;
Many ways to lead above :-
Oh, for ways to praise thy love!
Go, proud Perfectionist! approach the throne
Wrapt in thy self-wrought righteousness alone;
And scorning thus the Saviour's crimsoned robe,
Look greatly down on Paul, Isaiah, and Job.
Bidding him stand apart, who, in his need,
Craved from Sin's loathsome body to be freed.
Deriding, in thy purity, the cry
That burst impassioned, when the prophet's eye
Saw glimpse of those that company above,—
How pure the lips that warble matchless love!
How vile his own! - Spurn him who felt the rod,
And yet, in all, sinned not, nor idly charged his God.
Do this, and as thon proudly livest, as proudly die,
And be alone! -Thou mayest not sit on high
With those that washed in blood their raiment white,
The dwellers now in uncreated light.
No! while they touch the glowing chords of love,
Another harp 'tis thine to take above.
* A representative of the sect which appeared a few years since in the western part of New York state-repudiators of the Bible and the ordinances of the gospel.
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