Part 5

There is a God!--all nature speaks, Through earth, and air, and seas, and skies; See! from the clouds His glory breaks, When the first beams of morning rise.

The rising sun, serenely bright, O'er the wide world's extended frame, Inscribes, in characters of light, His mighty Maker's glorious name.

Ye curious minds, who roam abroad, And trace creation's wonders o'er, Confess the footsteps of your God, And bow before Him, and adore.

--_Steele._

Lord, how mysterious are Thy ways! How blind are we! how mean our praise! Thy steps, can mortal eyes explore? 'Tis ours to wonder and adore.

Great God! I would not ask to see What in my coming life shall be; Enough for me if love divine, At length through every cloud shall shine.

Are darkness and distress my share? Then let me trust Thy guardian care; If light and bliss attend my days Then let my future hours be praise.

Yet this my soul desires to know, Be this my only wish below, That Christ be mine;--this great request Grant, bounteous God, and I am blest!

--_Steele._

THE SHADOW OF THE ROCK.

The Shadow of the Rock! Stay, Pilgrim, stay! Night treads upon the heels of day; There is no other resting-place this way. The Rock is near, The well is clear-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock.

The Shadow of the Rock! The desert wide Lies round thee like a trackless tide, In waves of sand forlornly multiplied. The sun is gone, Thou art alone-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! All come alone; All, ever since the sun hath shone, Who traveled by this road have come alone. Be of good cheer-- A home is here-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock?

The Shadow of the Rock! Night veils the land; How the palms whisper as they stand! How the well tinkles faintly through the sand! Cool water take Thy thirst to slake-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! Abide! Abide! This Rock moves ever at thy side, Pausing to welcome thee at eventide. Ages are laid Beneath its shade-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! Always at hand, Unseen it cools the noon-tide land, And quells the fire that flickers in the sand. It comes in sight Only at night-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! 'Mid skies storm-riven It gathers shadows out of heaven, And holds them o'er us all night cool and even. Through the charmed air Dew falls not there-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! To angels' eyes This Rock its shadow multiplies, And at this hour in countless places lies. One Rock, one shade, O'er thousands laid-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! To weary feet, That have been diligent and fleet, The sleep is deeper and the shade more sweet. O weary, rest! Thou art sore pressed-- Rest in the shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! Thy bed is made; Crowds of tired souls like thine are laid This night beneath the self-same placid shade. They who rest here Wake with Heaven near-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! Pilgrim! sleep sound; In night's swift hours with silent bound, The Rock will put thee over leagues of ground, Gaining more way By night than day-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock!

The Shadow of the Rock! One day of pain, Thou scarce wilt hope the Rock to gain, Yet there wilt sleep thy last sleep on the plain; And only wake In Heaven's daybreak-- Rest in the Shadow of the Rock.

--_F. W. Faber._

ELEGY.

Sleep on my love, in thy cold bed, Never to be disquieted! My last good night! Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake, Till age, or grief, or sickness, must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves, and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. Stay for me there; I will not fail To meet thee in that narrow vale; And think not much of my delay: I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. For hark! my heart, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come; And howe'er long my marches be, I shall at last lie down by thee.

* * * * *

Each minute is a short degree, And every hour a step toward thee; At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life, almost by eight hours' sail, Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale. The thought of this bids me go on, And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear, forgive The crime: I am content to live Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part.

--_Henry King._

REST YONDER.

This is not my place of resting Mine's a city yet to come; Onwards to it I am hasting-- On to my eternal home.

In it all is light and glory, O'er it shines a nightless day; Every trace of sin's sad story, All the curse, has passed away.

There the Lamb, our Shepherd, leads us, By the streams of life along; On the freshest pastures feeds us, Turns our sighing into song.

Soon we pass this desert dreary, Soon we bid farewell to pain; Never more be sad or weary, Never, never sin again.

--_Horatius Bonar._

Soldiers of Christ, arise, And gird your armor on, Strong in the strength which God supplies, Through His eternal Son:

Strong in the Lord of hosts, And in His mighty power, Who in the strength of Jesus trusts, Is more than conqueror.

Leave no unguarded place, No weakness of the soul; Take every virtue, every grace, And fortify the whole.

Stand, then, in His great might, With all His strength endued, And take, to arm you for the fight, The panoply of God:

That, having all things done, And all your conflicts past, You may o'ercome thro' Christ alone, And stand complete at last.

From strength to strength go on; Wrestle, and fight, and pray; Tread all the powers of darkness down, And win the well-fought day.

--_C. Wesley._

Thy will be done! I will not fear The fate provided by Thy love; Though clouds and darkness shroud me here, I know that all is bright above.

The stars of heaven are shining on, Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears; The hopes of earth indeed are gone, But are not ours the immortal years?

Father! forgive the heart that clings, Thus trembling, to the things of time; And bid my soul, on angel wings, Ascend into a purer clime.

--_J. Roscoe._

No, no, it is not dying To go unto our God, This gloomy earth forsaking, Our journey homeward taking Along the starry road.

No, no, it is not dying Heaven's citizen to be; A crown immortal wearing, And rest unbroken sharing, From care and conflict free.

No, no, it is not dying To hear this gracious word, "Receive a Father's blessing, Forever more possessing The favor of thy Lord."

No, no, it is not dying The Shepherd's voice to know; His sheep he ever leadeth, His peaceful flock he feedeth, Where living pastures grow.

No, no, it is not dying To wear a lordly crown; Among God's people dwelling, The glorious triumph swelling Of Him whose sway we own.

Oh, no, this is not dying, Thou Saviour of mankind! There, streams of love are flowing, No hindrance ever knowing; Here drops alone we find.

--_Malan._

Watchman! tell us of the night, What its signs of promise are.-- Traveler! o'er yon mountain's height, See that glory-beaming star!-- Watchman! does its beauteous ray Aught of hope or joy foretell? Traveler! yes; it brings the day-- Promised day of Israel.

Watchman! tell us of the night, Higher yet that stars ascends.-- Traveler! blessedness and light, Peace and truth its course portends! Watchman! will its beams alone Gild the spot that gave them birth?-- Traveler! ages are its own, See, it bursts o'er all the earth.

Watchman! tell us of the night, For the morning seems to dawn.-- Traveler! darkness takes its flight, Doubt and terror are withdrawn.-- Watchman! let thy wanderings cease; Hie thee to thy quiet home.-- Traveler! lo! the Prince of Peace, Lo! the son of God is come.

--_Bowring._

THE SPIRIT ACCOMPANYING THE WORD OF GOD.

O spirit of the living God, In all Thy plenitude of grace, Where'er the foot of man hath trod, Descend on our apostate race.

Give tongues of fire, and hearts of love, To preach the reconciling word; Give power and unction from above, Where'er the joyful sound is heard.

Be darkness, at Thy coming, light; Confusion--order, in Thy path; Souls without strength inspire with might, Bid mercy triumph over wrath.

O, Spirit of the Lord! prepare All the round earth her God to meet; Breathe Thou abroad like morning air, Till hearts of stone begin to beat.

Baptize the nations; far and nigh, The triumphs of the cross record; The name of Jesus glorify, Till every kindred call Him Lord.

God from eternity hath willed, All flesh shall His salvation see; So be the Father's love fulfilled, The Saviour's sufferings crowned through Thee.

--_James Montgomery._

THE CLOUDLESS.

No shadows yonder! All light and song; Each day I wonder, And say, How long Shall time me sunder From that dear throng?

No weeping yonder? All fled away; While here I wander Each weary day, And sigh as I ponder My long, long stay.

No partings yonder! Time and space never Again shall sunder; Hearts cannot sever; Dearer and fonder Hands clasp for ever.

None wanting yonder, Bought by the Lamb! All gathered under The evergreen palm; Loud as night's thunder Ascends the glad psalm.

_--Horatius Bonar._

COMFORT.

Hast thou o'er the clear heaven of thy soul Seen tempests roll? Hast thou watched all the hopes thou wouldst have won Fade, one by one? Wait till the clouds are past, then raise thine eyes To bluer skies.

Hast thou gone sadly through a dreary night, And found no light, No guide, no star, to cheer thee through the plain, No friend, save pain? Wait, and thy soul shall see, when most forlorn, Rise a new morn.

Hast thou beneath another's stern control Bent thy sad soul, And wasted sacred hopes and precious tears? Yet calm thy fears, For thou canst gain, even from the bitterest part, A stronger heart.

Has Fate o'erwhelmed thee with some sudden blow? Let thy tears flow; But know when storms are past, the heavens appear More pure, more clear; And hope, when farthest from their shining rays, For brighter days.

Hast thou found life a cheat, and worn in vain Its iron chain? Has thy soul bent beneath earth's heavy bond? Look thou beyond; If life is bitter--_there_ forever shine Hopes more divine.

Art thou alone, and does thy soul complain It lives in vain? Not vainly does he live who can endure. O be thou sure, That he who hopes and suffers here, can earn A sure return.

Hast thou found naught within thy troubled life Save inward strife? Hast thou found all she promised thee, Deceit, And Hope a cheat? Endure, and there shall dawn within thy breast Eternal rest!

_--Adelaide Procter._

"MASTER, SAY ON!"

Master, speak! Thy servant heareth, Waiting for Thy gracious word, Longing for Thy voice that cheereth; Master! let it now be heard. I am listening, Lord, for Thee; What hast Thou to say to me?

Often through my heart is pealing Other voices, Lord, than Thine, Many an unwilled echo stealing From the walls of this Thy shrine: Let Thy longed-for accents fall; Master, speak! and silence all.

Master, speak! I do not doubt Thee, Though so tearfully I plead; Saviour, Shepherd! Oh, without Thee Life would be a blank indeed! But I long for fuller light, Deeper love, and clearer sight.

Resting on the 'faithful saying,' Trusting what Thy gospel saith, On Thy written promise staying All my hope in life and death, Yet I long for something more From Thy love's exhaustless store.

Speak to me by name, O Master, Let me _know_ it is to me; Speak, that I may follow faster, With a step more firm and free, Where the Shepherd leads the flock, In the shadow of the Rock.

Master, speak! I kneel before Thee, Listening, longing, waiting still; Oh, how long shall I implore Thee This petition to fulfil! Hast Thou not one word for me? Must my prayer unanswered be?

Master, speak! Though least and lowest Let me not unheard depart; Master, speak! for oh! Thou knowest All the yearning of my heart, Knowest all its truest need; Speak! and make me blest indeed.

Master, speak! and make me ready, When Thy voice is truly heard, With obedience glad and steady Still to follow every word. I am listening, Lord, for Thee; Master speak, oh, speak to me!

_--Frances Ridley Havergal._

THE LEPER.

St. Luke. Chapter xvii.

Room for the leper! "Room!" And, as he came, The cry pass'd on--"Room for the leper! Room!" Sunrise was slanting on the city gates Rosy and beautiful, and from the hills The early risen poor were coming in, Duly and cheerfully to their toil, and up Rose the sharp hammer's clink, and the far hum Of moving wheels and multitudes astir, And all that in a city murmur swells-- Unheard but by the watcher's weary ear, Aching with night's dull silence, or the sick Hailing the welcome light and sounds that chase The death-like images of the dark away. "Room for the leper!" And aside they stood-- Matron, and child, and pitiless manhood--all Who met him on his way--and let him pass. And onward through the open gate he came, A leper with the ashes on his brow, Sackcloth about his loins, and on his lip A covering, stepping painfully and slow, And with a difficult utterance, like one Whose heart is like an iron nerve put down, Crying, "Unclean! Unclean!"

'Twas now the first Of the Judean autumn, and the leaves, Whose shadows lay so still upon his path, Had put their beauty forth beneath the eye Of Judah's loftiest noble. He was young, And eminently beautiful, and life Mantled in eloquent fullness on his lip, And sparkled in his glance; and in his mien There was a gracious pride that every eye Follow'd with benisons--and this was he! With the soft airs of summer there had come A torpor on his frame, which not the speed Of his best barb, nor music, nor the blast Of the bold huntsman's horn, nor aught that stirs The spirit to its bent, might drive away. The blood beat not as wont within his veins; Dimness crept o'er his eye; a drowsy sloth Fetter'd his limbs like palsy, and his mien, With all its loftiness, seem'd struck with eld. Even his voice was changed--a languid moan Taking the place of the clear silver key; And brain and sense grew faint, as if the light And very air were steep'd in sluggishness. He strove with it awhile, as manhood will, Ever too proud for weakness, till the rein Slacken'd within his grasp, and in its poise The arrowy jereed like an aspen shook. Day after day, he lay as if in sleep. His skin grew dry and bloodless, and white scales, Circled with livid purple, cover'd him. And then his nails grew black, and fell away From the dull flesh about them, and the hues Deepen'd beneath the hard unmoisten'd scales, And from their edges grew the rank white hair, --And Helon was a leper!

Day was breaking, When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense lamp Burn'd with a struggling light, and a low chant Swell'd through the hollow arches of the roof Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. The echoes of the melancholy strain Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, Struggling with weakness, and bow'd down his head Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off His costly raiment for the leper's garb; And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still, Waiting to hear his doom:--

Depart! depart, O child Of Israel, from the temple of thy God! For He has smote thee with His chastening rod; And to the desert-wild, From all thou lov'st, away thy feet must flee, That from thy plague His people may be free.

Depart! and come not near The busy mart, the crowded city, more; Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er; And stay thou not to hear Voices that call thee in the way: and fly From all who in the wilderness pass by.

Wet not thy burning lip In streams that to a human dwelling glide; Nor rest thee where the covert fountains hide; Nor kneel thee down to dip The water where the pilgrim bends to drink, By desert well or river's grassy brink;

And pass thou not between The weary traveler and the cooling breeze; And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees Where human tracks are seen; Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain.

And now depart! and when Thy heart is heavy, and thine eyes are dim, Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him Who, from the tribes of men, Selected thee to feel His chastening rod. Depart! O leper! and forget not God!

And he went forth--alone! not one of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea--he went his way, Sick, and heart-broken, and alone--to die! For God had cursed the leper!

It was noon, And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow, Hot with the burning leprosy, and touch'd The loathsome water to his fever'd lips, Praying that he might be so blest--to die! Footsteps approach'd, and, with no strength to flee, He drew the covering closer on his lip, Crying, "Unclean! unclean!" and in the folds Of the coarse sackcloth shrouding up his face, He fell upon the earth till they should pass. Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er The leper prostrate form, pronounced his name-- "Helon!" The voice was like the master-tone Of a rich instrument--most strangely sweet; And the dull pulses of disease awoke, And for a moment beat beneath the hot And leprous scales with a restoring thrill. "Helon! arise!" and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before Him.

Love and awe Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye As he beheld the stranger. He was not In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow The symbol of a princely lineage wore; No followers at His back, nor in His hand Buckler, or sword, or spear,--yet in His mien Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled, A kingly condescension graced His lips, The lion would have crouch'd to in his lair. His garb was simple, and His sandals worn; His stature modell'd with a perfect grace; His countenance the impress of a God, Touch'd with the opening innocence of a child; His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky In the serenest noon; His hair unshorn Fell to His shoulders; and His curling beard The fulness of perfected manhood bore. He look'd on Helon earnestly awhile, As if His heart were moved, and stooping down He took a little water in His hand And laid it on his brow, and said, "Be clean!" And lo! the scales fell from him, and his blood Coursed with delicious coolness through his veins And his dry palms grew moist, and on his brow The dewy softness of an infant's stole. His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down Prostrate at Jesus' feet and worship'd Him.

--_N. P. Willis._

THINGS HOPED FOR.

These are the crowns that we shall wear, When all thy saints are crowned; These are the palms that we shall bear On yonder holy ground.

Far off as yet, reserved in heaven, Above that veiling sky, They sparkle, like the stars of even, To hope's far-piercing eye.

These are the robes, unsoiled and white, Which then we shall put on, When, foremost 'mong the sons of light, We sit on yonder throne.

That city with the jeweled crest, Like some new-lighted sun; A blaze of burning amethyst-- Ten thousand orbs in one;

That is the city of the saints, Where we so soon shall stand, When we shall strike these desert-tents, And quit this desert-sand.

These are the everlasting hills, With summits bathed in day: The slopes down which the living rills, Soft-lapsing, take their way.

Fair vision! how thy distant gleam Brightens time's saddest hue; Far fairer than the fairest dream, And yet so strangely true!

Fair vision! how thou liftest up The drooping brow and eye; With the calm joy of thy sure hope Fixing our souls on high.

Thy light makes even the darkest page In memory's scroll grow fair; Blanching the lines which tears and age Had only deepened there.

With thee in view, the rugged slope Becomes a level way, Smoothed by the magic of thy hope, And gladdened by thy ray.

With thee in view, how poor appear The world's most winning smiles; Vain is the tempter's subtlest snare, And vain hell's varied wiles.

Time's glory fades; its beauty now Has ceased to lure or blind; Each gay enchantment here below Has lost its power to bind.

Then welcome toil, and care, and pain! And welcome sorrow too! All toil is rest, all grief is gain, With such a prize in view.

Come crown and throne, come robe and palm! Burst forth glad stream of peace! Come, holy city of the Lamb! Rise, Sun of Righteousness!

When shall the clouds that veil thy rays For ever be withdrawn? Why dost thou tarry, day of days? When shall thy gladness dawn?

--_Horatius Bonar._

THE SURE REFUGE.

Jesus, my Saviour, look on me! For I am weary and oppressed; I come to cast myself on Thee; Thou art my Rest.

Look down on me, for I am weak; I feel the toilsome journey's length; Thine aid omnipotent I seek; Thou art my Strength.

I am bewildered on my way; Dark and tempestuous is the night; Oh! shed thou forth some cheering ray; Thou art my Light.

I hear the storms around me rise, But when I dread the impending shock, My spirit to her refuge flies; Thou art my Rock.

When the accuser flings his darts, I look to Thee--my terrors cease,-- Thy cross a hiding-place imparts; Thou art my Peace.

Standing alone on Jordan's brink, In that tremendous, latest strife, Thou wilt not suffer me to sink; Thou art my Life.

Thou wilt my every want supply, Even to the end, whate'er befall Through life in death eternally; Thou art my All.

--_Unidentified._

UNFRUITFULNESS.

My soul! what hast thou done for God? Look o'er thy misspent years and see; Sum up what thou hast done for God, And then what God has done for thee.

He made thee, when He might have made A soul that would have loved Him more; He rescued thee from nothingness, And set thee on life's happy shore.