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Beneath the frown of wicked men

Our country's strength is bowing; But, thanks to God! they can't prevent The lone wild-flowers from blowing.

High, high above the tree-tops
The lark is soaring free,

Where streams the light, through broken clouds, His speckled breast I see:

Beneath the might of wicked men

The poor man's worth is dying; But thank'd be God! in spite of them The lark still warbles flying.

The preacher prays,

"Lord bless us!"

"Lord bless us !" echo cries; "Amen!" the breezes murmur low! "Amen!" the rill replies.

The ceaseless toil of woe-worn hearts,

The proud with pangs are praying; But here, O God of earth and heaven The humble heart is praying!

Speak low, thou heav'n-paid teacher !
The tempest bursts above:
God whispers in the thunder-hear
The terrors of his love!

On useful hands, and honest hearts
The base their wrath are wreaking;
But thank'd be God! they can't prevent
The storm of heaven from speaking.


LEAD, kindly light amid the encircling gloom; Lead thou me on!

The night is dark, and I am far from home; Lead thou me on!

Keep thou my feet! I do not ask to see
The distant scene-one step's enough for me!

I was not ever thus inclined that thou
Should'st lead me on.

I lov'd to see and choose my path; but now
Lead thou me on!

I lov'd the garish day, and spite of fears, Pride ruled my will-remember not past years!

So long thy power and love hath led me, sure it still

Will lead me on

O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till The night is gone;

And, with the morn, those angel faces smile, Which I have loved long since and lost awhile! KEEBLE.


How oft do they their silver bowers leave,
To come to succour us that succour want?
How oft do they, with golden pinions cleave
The flitting skies, like flying pursuivant,
Against foul fiends, to aid us militant?
They for us fight, they watch and duly ward,
And their bright squadrons round about us

And all for love, and nothing for reward:
Oh! why should heavenly love to man have
such regard?


CHRIST to the young man said: Yet one thing


If thou would'st perfect be,

Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,
And come, and follow me!

Within this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words hath said,

And his invisible hands to day have been
Laid on a young man's head.

And evermore beside him, on his way,
The unseen Christ shall move;
That he may lean upon his arm, and say,
"Dost thou, dear Lord! approve?"

Beside him at the marriage feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair,
Beside him in the dark Gethesemane
Of pain and midnight prayer.

O holy trust! O endless sense of rest,
Like the beloved John,

To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast,
And thus to journey on!



Man-like is it to fall in sin,
Fiend-like is it to dwell therein,
Christ-like is it for sin to grieve,
God-like is it all sin to leave.



WHEN, marshall'd on the nightly plain,
The glitt'ring host bestud the sky;
One star alone, of all the train,

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem!

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud-the night was darkThe ocean yawn'd-and rudely blow'd

The wind that toss'd my foundering bark.

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