PIONEERS OF THOUGHT. J. F. CLARKE.
1 For all thy gifts we praise thee, Lord,
With lifted song and bended knee;
But now our thanks are chiefly poured
For those who taught us to be free.
2 For when the soul lay bound below
A heavy yoke of forms and creeds,
And none thy word of truth could know,
O'ergrown with tares and choked with weeds :
3 The monarch's sword, the prelate's pride,
The church's curse, the empire's ban,
By one poor monk were all defied,
Who never feared the face of man.
4 Half-battles were the words he said,
Each born of prayer, baptised in tears;
And routed by them, backward fled
The errors of a thousand years.
1 WHEN troubles overflow the soul,
And foaming billows proudly roll,
These words to us are ever blest,
"Take courage, all is for the best."
2 When disappointment throws us down,
And courted fortune casts a frown,
On these consoling words we rest,
Still knowing, "all is for the best."
3 When pestilence is in the land,
And sickness strikes with heavy hand,
We are of comfort still possest,
Believing "all is for the best."
4 Then let us trust, from day to day,
The hand that gives and takes away;
And gladly cry, "His name be blest,
Who worketh all things for the best."
GOD'S PRESENCE IN NATURE.
1 THOU art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see ;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from thee;
Where'er we turn thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are thine.
2 When day, with farewell beams, delays
Among the opening clouds of even,
And we can almost think we gaze
Through golden vistas into heaven;
Those hues that make the sun's decline
So soft, so radiant, Lord, are thine.
3 When night, with wings of starry gloom,
O'ershadows all the earth and skies,
Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume
Is sparkling with unnumbered dyes;
That sacred gloom, those fires divine,
So grand, so countless, Lord, are thine.
4 When youthful spring around us breathes,
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh;
And every flower the summer wreathes
Is born beneath thy kindling eye;
Where'er we turn thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are thine.
1 We do not die-we cannot die ;
We only change our state of life
When these earth temples fall and lie
Unmoving 'mid the world's wild strife.
2 There is no death in God's wide world;
But one eternal scene of change;
The flag of life is never furled,
It only taketh wider range.
3 And when the spirit leaves its frame,
Its home in which it long hath dwelt,
It goes, a life that's real to claim,
As if in this it had but slept.
4 Then let us not speak of "the dead,"
For none are dead-all live, all love :
Our friends have only changed-have sped
From lower homes to homes above.
ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE.
1 THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Doth his Creator's power display ;
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
2 Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly, to the listening earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;
While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.
3 What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark, terrestrial ball;
What though no real voice nor sound
Amidst their radiant orbs be found?
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice ;
For ever singing as they shine,
"The hand that made us is divine."
1 ARRAYED in clouds of golden light,
More bright than heaven's resplendent bow,
The holy angels come by night
To bless the sleeping world below.
How soft the music that they bring !
How sweet the hallowed strains they sing!
2 Good-will henceforth to man be given;
The light of glory beams on earth;
While angels tune the harps of heaven,
Their kindred here rejoice with mirth;
And to the skies their voices raise
In one sweet song of gushing praise.
MUSIC FROM THE SPIRIT SHORE.
1 THE outward world is dark and drear
When friends we love are seen no more;
But hark! their happy songs we hear
In music from the spirit shore.
2 We wake no more by night to mourn;
They are not lost, but gone before;
And still their loving thoughts are borne
In music from the spirit shore.
3 With cheerful steps to heaven we move,
Our mortal toils will soon be o'er;
Then all the angels of our love
Will greet us on the spirit shore.
4 Our Father-God, for this we pray,
That we may bear thine image more ;
And do thy will in love alway,
Like angels on the spirit shore.
1 0 THOU, to whom in ancient time,
The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung,
Whom kings adored in song sublime,
And prophets praised with glowing tongue!
2 Not now on Zion's height alone
Thy favoured worshipper may dwell;
Nor where, at sultry noon, thy Son
Sat weary by the patriarch's well.
3 From every place below the skies,
The grateful song, the fervent prayer-
The incense of the heart-may rise
To heaven, and find acceptance there.
4 To thee shall age with snowy hair,
And strength and beauty bend the knee,
And childhood lisp, with reverent air,
Its praises and its prayers to thee.
THE YOUNG SPIRIT'S FLIGHT. MRS. HEMANS.
1 CALM on the bosom of thy God,
Young spirit, rest thee now!
E'en while with us thy footsteps trod,
His seal was on thy brow.
2 Dust, to its narrow house beneath!
Soul, to its place on high !
They that have seen thy look in death
No more may fear to die.
3 Lone are the paths, and sad the bowers,
Whence thy meek smile is gone;
But, oh a brighter home than ours,
In heaven, is now thine own.
IMMORTAL praise to God be given,
By all in earth, and all in heaven;
The First, the Last, who reigns alone,
And fills an undivided throne.
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