Evening Song of the Weary.

Save us from the great and wise,
Till they sink in their own eyes,
Tamely to thy yoke submit,
Lay their honor at thy feet.

Never let the world break in,
Fix a mighty gulf between ;
Keep us little and unknown,
Prized and loved by God alone.

Far above all earthly things,
Look we down on earthly kings!
Taste our glorious liberty;
Find our happiness in thee!

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Evening Song of the Weary.

CXIV.

FELICIA HEMANS.

FATHER of heaven and earth!
I bless the for the night,

The soft still night!

The holy pause of care and mirth,

Of sound and light!

210 Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

Now far in the glade and dell,

Flower cup, and bud and bell,

Have shut around the sleeping woodlark's nestThe bee's long murmuring toils are done, And I, the o'erwearied one,

O'erwearied and o'erwrought,

Bless the, O God, O Father of the oppressed,
With my last waking thought,
In the still night!

Yes, ere I sink to rest,

By the fire's dying light,

Thou Lord of earth and heaven!

I bless thee, who hast given
Unto life's fainting travellers, the night,
The soft, still, holy night,

Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

OXV.

BRETHREN, while we sojourn here,
Fight we must, but should not fear,
Foes we have, but we 've a friend,

One who loves us to the end;

Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

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Forward then, with courage go,

Long we shall not dwell below; Soon the joyful word will come,

Child, your Father calls-come home.

In the world a thousand snares
Lay to take us unawares;
Slavery, with malicious art,
Watches each unguarded heart;
But from hate and malice free,
Saints shall soon victorious be;
Soon the joyful word will come,
Child, your Father calls-come home.

But of all the foes we meet,
None so apt to turn our feet-

To betray us into sin,

As the foes we have within; Yet let nothing spoil your peace, Christ will also conquer these ; Then the joyful word will come,

Child, your Father calls-come home.

Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

CXVI.

CAROLINE W. SEWALL.

Lord, when thine ancient people cried,
Oppressed and bound by Egypt's king,
Thou did'st Arabia's sea divide,

And forth thy fainting Israel bring.

Lo, in these latter days our land,

Groans with the anguish of the slave; Lord God of hosts! stretch forth thy hand,Not shortened that it cannot save.

The Truly Forlorn.

CAROLINE W. SEWALL.

Grievously the captive sighs,
Wearily his strength applies,
Joylessly his task pursues,

Hopelessly the future views.

Who his abject lot shall bless?

Who shall soothe his soul's distress?

Bring his happy children near;

They his burdened heart will cheer.

Hymn for the Monthly Concert.

Roll back the swelling tide of sin,

The lust of gain-the lust of power: The day of Freedom usher in :

How long delays the appointed hour!

How long, oh Lord, how long !—we wake,
We watch, we weep, we cry to thee-
The oppressor hears yet heareth not.
Thou captive lead'st captivity.

Free young spirits God hath made
Such sweet ministry to aid.

Ah! the light hath left their brow,
For the chain hath bound them now!

She who shared his leafy cot,

(Life was new, and griefs were not,)
Screened from day's too fervid gleams,
Filled his gourd by Afric's streams;

She will come; affection's smile
Shall his fiercest woes beguile.
Ha! the smile her lip hath past,

And the chain is round her cast!

Look to Christ! mid'st wrongs and grief;

Sufferer, he will give relief.

Mountains fall and hide our shame!

He hath not even heard his name!

Thou, just God, art over all,—
For Thy help the helpless call.
Hearts of pride with mercy view,
For they know not what they do.

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