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Though harps are wanting, and bright pinions
folded, We know them by the love-light on their brow.
I have seen angels by the sick one's pillow; Theirs were the soft tone and the soundless
tread: Where smitten hearts were drooping like the wil
low, They stood " between the living and the dead.”
And if my sight, by earthly dimness hindered,
Beheld no hovering cherubim in air,
They smiled upon the wingless watchers there.
There have been angels in the gloomy prison,
In crowded halls, by the lone widow's hearth; And, where they passed, the fallen have uprisen, The giddy paused, the mourner's hope had
Oh! many a spirit walks the world unheeded,
That, when its veil of sadness is laid down,
The Disciples' Hymn-book. 18. CONTENTMENT.
My mind to me a kingdom is ;
Such perfect joy therein I find As far exceeds all earthly bliss
That world affords, or grows by kind: Though much I want what most men have, Yet doth my mind forbid me crave.
Content I live: this is my stay,
I seek no more than may suffice;
Look! what I lack my mind supplies.
I see how plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers oft do fall;
Mishap doth threaten most of all : They get, they toil, they spend with care ; Such cares my mind could never bear.
I laugh not at another's loss,
I grudge not at another's gain;
I brook that is another's pain.
Some have too much, yet still they crave;
I little have, yet seek no more: They are but poor, though much they have;
And I am rich, with little store. They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; They lack, I lend; they pine, I live.
I wish not what I have at will;
I wander not to seek for more;
In greatest storm I sit on shore,
, there is a country
soul, there is
Afar beyond the stars,
All skilful in the wars :
Sweet Peace sits crowned with smiles;
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend,
And (O my soul, awake !)
To die here for thy sake.
the flower of peace,
Thy fortress and thy ease.
For none can thee secure,
Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure!
20. THE ANGELS' GREETING.
“Hark! they whisper! angels say,
YOME to the land of
peace; Come where the tempest hath no longer
sway, The shadow passes from the soul away,
The sounds of weeping cease.
Fear hath no dwelling there.
Through the celestial air.
Come to the bright and blest ;
Thou hast been long alone. Come to thy mother: on the sabbath-shore, The heart that rocked thy childhood, back once
Shall take its wearied one.
In silence wert thou left.
Shall greet their long bereft.
Over thine orphan-head The storm hath swept as o'er a willow's bough. Come to thy father: it is finished now;
Thy tears have all been shed.
In thy divine abode, Change finds no pathway, memory no dark trace, And, O bright victory! death by love no place. Come, spirit, to thy God!