Should friends belov'd from me be torn,
And I with trials, crosses, mourn,
Dear Saviour leave me not forlorn.
But then remember me!
And when the hour of death is near,
Be with me Lord, my soul to cheer,
To quell each doubt, each rising fear,
Then, then, remember me!
A SUMMER EVENING.
THE sun is sinking in the western skies,
The farm yard's busy sounds are lulled to rest,
The wild bird, on swift-wing, now homeward flies,
Or pours her evening carol from her nest;
The town has sent from its hot crowded street,
Its pale inhabitants to seek the air,
The pleasant lanes they trace with lingering feet,
Or
gaze with rapture on the landscape fair;
Rose-scented zephyrs cool each weary brow,
And crimson clouds shed over them their glow.
The wearied peasants wend their homeward way,
Laden with implements of daily toil,
Their darkly bronzed, but healthy cheeks display
The signs of hard day's work, and heat and broil;
Loved ones are waiting for them—many a meal,
Upon the grass plats, near each cottage home,
Is spread by children's hands, who softly steal
Down the green paths to watch their parents come,
Who seem right pleased to greet the welcome sight,
And bid their fellow laborers now good night!
The vesper star is shining in the sky,
The busy gnats have ceased their mazy flight,
The bees from all the odorous blossoms fly,
The glow-worm shows her soft and mellow light;
And all is calm and peaceful—not a sound
Mars the deep quiet, save the tinkling bell
Of far off sheep, feeding on thymy mound,
Or roaming through some distant fragrant dell,
Where the dark purple heath, and golden broom,
Shed on the gale their faint but sweet perfume.
It is the hour of prayer, thanksgivings rise,
From many a cottage home on England's isle,
To Him, who will not turn from, nor despise
The lowliest one on earth that seeks his smile.
It is the hour of prayer, and children bow
Beside their parents in the twilight dim;
Or stand and sing, in cadence soft and low,
And voices sweet, the sacred evening hymn.
Oh blest are they who thus the daylight close,
And seek, at peace with all, their night's repose.
ANNIE WHITE.
ANSWERS TO THE ENIGMA.
(Page 287.)
"Twas FAITH reveal'd the Martyr's crown,
HOPE smil'd-serene and sweet:
LOVE in his prayer for foes was shewn,—
This trio I would greet:
And pray that through the grace divine,
Faith, Hope, and Love, in me may shine. Pimlico.
What can compose the Christian's parting breath? What cheers his prospect through the darksome grave? “FAITH” sheds its glory's o'er the hour of death
The faith in Jesus, who from death can save.
What makes the pris'ner wipe away his tears
But the sweet" HOPE" he may his freedom gain?
This made the prodigal dismiss his fears,
He hoped to see His slighted home again.
But "LOVE" shall live when faith is lost in sight,
When Hope in full fruition ends above,
Then Love shall reign, with infinite delight,
For this can make it Heaven-" God is Love."
Behold the martyr at the stake,
While thousands round exulting cry ;
What but the eye of FAITH can make,
Him calmly thus prepare to die?
And mark his calm and peaceful smile;
As HOPE lights up his trembling frame,
"Tho now he must endure awhile;
Death, will be life, thro' Jesus' name.
Sweet CHARITY now fills his breast,
As for his foes, in earnest prayer,
He mercy craves, then sinks to rest,
To rise in Heaven-His home is there.
FAITH, HOPE, and CHARITY, these three,
A glorious diadem will shine;
Oh priceless gems! my prayer shall be,
That they may each, may all, be mine.
As on we travel through life's dreary road,
FAITH strengthens us to bear the heaviest load;
We know in whom we trust, and firmly rest,
Believing all that he ordains is best.
Sweet, smiling HOPE, points upward to the skies,
And bids us aim, where all our treasure lies;
But yet, though bright, these Christian graces shine,
One still remains, more radiant, more divine-
Brightest and best! chief of the blessed three!
We hail thee! meek, enduring CHARITY!
FAITH fir'd the martyr's burning zeal,
And lent a glowing light,
Eternal glories to reveal,
To his enraptured sight.
And HOPE shed forth a blessed ray,
To gild that darksome hour,
And chase the clouds of doubt away,
With her benignant power.
While sweet celestial CHARITY,
Spoke forth in words of love,
Forgiveness to the enemy,
And blessings from above.
These graces then his soul inspir'd,
Who sought not earth's renown,
But with undying ardour fired,
Obtained a martyr's crown.
Though helpless be thy solitary lot,
Yet place thy trust in God, and tremble not;
When aid is sought in vain, cast all thy care
On Him, who finds no load too hard to bear.
What though thy youthful charms have from thee flown,
God sees thee still, nor will his child disown;
What though thy dearest friend should faithless prove,
God still enfolds thee in His arms of love.
Then be the Lord alone thy hiding place,
And ever near to aid thee by his grace;
Oh! choose Him for your friend, for only He
Can Comforter and Father be to thee.
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