2 Still, to the lowly soul

He doth himself impart,

And, for his temple and his throne,
Selects the pure in heart.

78

[C. M.]

Heaven.

TUNE-" Lanesboro."

1 THERE is an hour of peaceful rest, To mourning wanderers given; There is a tear for souls distressed, A balm for every wounded breast'Tis found alone in heaven.

2 There is a home for weary souls

:

By sin and sorrow driven :

When tossed on life's tempestuous shoals,
Where storms arise and ocean rolls,

And all is drear but heaven;

*Vide Matt. v. 8.

3 Then faith lifts up the tearless eye,
The heart with anguish riven;
It views the tempest passing by,
Sees evening shadows quickly fly,
And all serene in heaven.

4 There fragrant flowers immortal bloom,
And joys supreme are given;
There rays divine disperse the gloom;
Beyond the dark and narrow tomb,
Appears the dawn of heaven.

W. B. TAPPAN.*

79

[6s & 78.]

Tyrolese Evening Hymn.

AIR-" Come to the sunset tree."

1 COME to the sunset tree!

The day is past and gone;
The woodman's axe lies free,
And the reapers' work is done.
The twilight star to heaven,

And the summer dew to flowers,
And rest to us is given

By the cool, soft evening hours.

2 Sweet is the hour of rest!

Pleasant the wood's low sigh,
And the gleaming of the west,

And the turf whereon we lie.
When the burden and the heat
Of labor's task are o'er,

And kindly voices greet
The tired one at his door.

* Born in Beverly Mass., 1795, and died in 1849.

3 Yes, tuneful is the sound

That dwells in whispering boughs;
Welcome the freshness round,

And the gale that fans our brows.
But rest more sweet and still
Than ever night-fall gave,
Our longing hearts shall fill
In the world beyond the grave.

4 There shall no tempest blow,
No scorching noontide beat;
There shall be no more snow,
No weary, wandering feet;
So we lift our trusting eyes
From the hills our fathers trod,

To the quiet of the skies,
To the Sabbath of our God.

MRS. F. HEMANS.

80

[7s.]

Saturday Evening.

TUNE-" Safely through another week."

1 SAFELY through another week,

God has brought us on our way;

Let us now a blessing seek

On the approaching Sabbath day;
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.

2 Mercies, multiplied each hour,

Through the week our praise demand;
Guarded by thy mighty power,
Fed and guided by thy hand,
From our worldly cares set free,
May we rest this night in thee.

3 When the morn shall bid us rise,
May we feel thy presence near;
May thy glory meet our eyes,

When we in thy house appear;
Blest may all our Sabbaths prove,
Till we join the church above.

CHRISTIAN PSALMIST.

"Albion."

81

[C. M.]

Heaven.

TUNE-" Arlington."

1 WHEN I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I'll bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weeping eyes.

2 Let cares like a wild deluge come,
And storms of sorrow fall;
May I but safely reach my home,
My God, my heaven, my all;-

3 There shall I bathe my weary soul
In seas of heavenly rest;
And not a wave of trouble roll
Across my peaceful breast.

DR. WATTS.

82

[C. M.]

Trust in Providence.

TUNE-"The Pilot."

1 O PILOT, 'tis a fearful night;

There's danger on the deep,

I'll come and pace the deck with thee-
I do not dare to sleep.

"Go down," the sailor cried, " go down ;
This is no place for thee;
Fear not, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou mayest be."

2 Ah, Pilot, dangers often met,
We all are apt to slight,

And thou hast known these raging waves
But to subdue their might.

It is not apathy!" he cried,

"That gives this strength to me;
Fear not, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou mayest be.”

3 "On such a night the sea engulfed
My father's lifeless form;
My only brother's boat went down
In just so wild a storm.

And such, perhaps, may be my fate;
But still I say to thee!

Fear not, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou mayest be."

83

T. H. BAYLEY.

[L. M.]

The Vanity of the World.

TUNE-"Averno."

1 How vain is all beneath the skies! How transient every earthly bliss! How slender all the fondest ties

That bind us to a world like this!

2 The evening cloud

"Arcola."

the morning dew-
The withering grass - the fading flower
Of earthly hopes are emblems true
The glory of a passing hour!