Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts though stout and brave, Still like muffled drums are beating, Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead;
Act, act in the living Present!
Heart within, and God o'er head!
Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime;
And departing leave behind us,
Footprints on the sands of time.
Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main;
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother-
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us then be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
THE MIRACLE OF BETHESDA.-C. M. D.
The aged sufferer waited long
Upon Bethesda's brink;
Till hopes, once rising warm and strong,
Began in fears to sink:
And heavy were the sighs he drew,
And fervent was his prayer,
For he with safety full in view,
Still languished helpless there.
His hope grew dim; but one was nigh
Who saw the sufferer's grief:
That gentle voice, that pitying eye,
Gave promise of relief.
Each pang that human weakness knows
Obeyed that powerful word:
He spake, and, lo! the sick arose,
Rejoicing in his Lord!
Father of Jesus! when opprest
With grief and pain we lie,
And, longing for thy heavenly rest,
Despair to look so high,-
Oh, may the Saviour's words of peace,
Within the wounded heart,
Bid every doubt and suffering cease,
And strength and joy impart !
MY FATHER'S AT THE HELM.
The curling waves with awful roar,
A little boat assailed;
And pallid fear's distracting power
O'er all on board prevailed.
Save one, the captain's darling child,
Who steadfast viewed the storm;
And cheerful, with composure, smiled
At danger's threatening form.
"Why sport'st thou thus," a seaman cried, "While terrors overwhelm ?"
"Why should I fear?" the boy replied,
"My father's at the helm!"
So when our worldly all is reft,
Our earthly helper gone;
We still have one true anchor left,
God helps, and He alone.
Then turn to Him, 'mid sorrows wild,
When wants and woes o'erwhelm ;
Remembering like the fearless child,
Our Father's at the helm.
SABBATH EVENING.
The Sabbath day has reached its close,
Yet, Saviour, 'ere I seek repose,
Grant me the peace Thy love bestows,
Smile on my evening hour.
Oh! heavenly Comforter, sweet Guest,
Hallow and calm my troubled breast;
Weary I come to Thee for rest,
Smile on my evening hour.
If ever I have found it sweet,
To worship at my Saviour's feet,
Now to my soul this bliss repeat,
Smile on my evening hour.
Let not the gospel seed remain
Unfruitful, or be lost again;
Let heavenly dews distil like rain,
Smile on my evening hour.
Oh! ever present, ever nigh,
Jesus, to Thee I lift mine eye,
Thou hear'st the contrite sinner's cry,
Smile on my evening hour.
My only intercessor Thou!
Mingle Thy fragrant incense now
With every prayer and every vow,
Smile on my evening hour.
And oh, when life's short course shall end, And death's dark shades around impend, My God! my everlasting Friend!
Smile on my evening hour.
THE BIBLE.
The praises of my tongue
I offer to the Lord,
That I was taught and learnt so young
To read His holy word.
Great God! this book of thine
Informs me where to go,
For grace to pardon all my sin,
And make me holy too.
Here I can read and learn
How Christ, the Son of God,
Proclaimed the covenant of Thy grace,
And sealed it with His blood.
Oh, may the gospel teach,
And may my heart receive,
Those truths which all Thy servants preach,
And all Thy saints believe!
Then shall I praise the Lord
In a more cheerful strain,
That I was taught to read His word,
And have not learnt in vain.
A LITTLE CHILD'S MORNING HYMN.
The morning bright,
With rosy light,
Has waked me from my sleep:
Father, I own
Thy love alone
Thy little one doth keep.
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