Doth man herself in growing self-controul,
From weakness felt in dungeons of dim Night
Gathering immortal sinew, to unroll

And nerve her wing to bear the mighty flight, And cleanse her eye to stand the blaze of Heaven's light?

Oh then, from the dark world, and worldly wile,
From many-worded strife, and tempest's wing,
Gently to steal 'neath Thy Parental Aisle!
Meek suffering Spouse of thine anointed King,
Pillaring strength, and fill'd with thoughts that
spring

In golden sweetness; while the monarch swain,
Thine own anointed Psalmist, wakes the string;
And ages back reecho to the strain,

Like rocks which hold the voice of their own sounding main.

CONSOLATION.

Blest Author of our better birth,
Methinks I have no wish on earth,

But Thee to love, and do Thy will,
Yet sin is with me still,

In action prone to seek the feebler part,

As streams the fountain speak, so action speaks the heart.

'Mid wounded friends when yesternight
I seem'd to see, in streaming light,

Thy Hand 'mid clouds and shades between,
In showers of blessing seen,

Remorse behind was telling o'er her fears,

And 'neath a smiling eye the soul was full of tears.

Thus have I seen the mountain Wye

Steal from his alder canopy,

To bask awhile in sunny vales

His silver-glittering scales,

The dimpled surface caught the living gleam,

Then sought the shades again a cold and sombre

stream.

The bark all-wing to harbour hies;
The beast to woodland covert flies;
The dove to home by summer sea;

But where shall sinner flee?

The wayward child with shame and grief opprest,His head where shall he hide, but in a Parent's breast?

"Ye heavy-laden, come to me!"

Ne'er voice that set a captive free,—
Ne'er watery breeze on Arab sand,-
Ne'er Sun on Arctic strand,-

Ne'er native strain to heart of exile stole,
So sweet as those blest words to heavy-laden soul.

Dear words! still let me read you o'er,
And on each Heav'nly accent pore;
"Come unto me," ye grief-opprest!

Dear words on you I rest,

Henceforth I bow unto Thy chastening rod, And turn to Thy dread Cross, my Saviour and my God!

REPOSE.

Oh, let me not distrust Thee more!
While wearily we onward press,
Still Thy Love flies our Fears before,

And meets us at each turn to bless:
Sad fancies cower with boding wing
Before, or clouds their shadow fling,
But at each turn 'tis Thou art there,
In azure sky and landscape fair.

The rose-bud trusts the zephyr's wing,
And doth unfold her tender bloom;
The painted insect trusts the spring,
And doth unfurl her pictured plume.
The lark doth not do morning wrong,
But doth unbosom all her song;

Thy love like light around us glows,
But we 'gainst Thee our bosoms close.

The star doth climb Heav'n's crystal stair, To fill his grateful lamp with light; Earth feeds in fields of lucid air,

And giveth back in verdure bright;

The Sun at fountain of Thy beams

Doth draw, and with life-giving streams;
We live in th' ocean of Thy love,
But Thee distrusting barren prove.

Still thro' our prison-house dark Fear
Looks, mocking at our destinies ;
And whispers in the sea-boy's ear
Of howling winds, and shipwreck cries;
He
opes his eyes on summer sky,
The water-whirlwind passes by;
His home expands her quiet shore,
He smiles at what he fear'd before.

Distrustful Fear, the child of guilt,
He brings to fancy's brooding eye,
The year's full urn in waters spilt,
Or clos'd by dewless iron sky;
Thou op'st Thine hand with promis'd store,
And the full year is flowing o'er

With glad and golden plenteousness ;-
We drink, the Fount forget to bless.

The shades are varying while time's chain
Unravels, and life's day-light sinks,
Thy Love doth still unchang'd remain;
I have a home where Memory drinks