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He comes ! to cheer the trembling heart,
Bids Satan and his host depart;
Again the Day-star gilds the gloom,
Again the bowers of Eden bloom !

O Zion ! lift thy raptured eye,
The long-expected hour is nigh;
The joys of Nature rise again,
The Prince of Salem comes to reign.”



Not the ship that swiftest saileth,

But which longest holds her way
Onward, onward, never faileth,

Storm and calm, to win the day ;
Earliest she the haven gains,
Which the hardest stress sustains.

O'er life's ocean, wide and pathless,

Thus would I with patience steer ; No vain hope of journeying scathless,

No proud boast to face down fear ;

Dark or bright his Providence,
Trust in God be



Time there was,—'tis so no longer,

When I crowded every sail, Battled with the waves, and stronger

Grew, as stronger grew the gale ; But my strength sunk with the wind, And the sea lay dead behind.



bark had founder'd surely,
But a power invisible
Breathed upon me;—then securely,

Borne along the gradual swell,
Helm, and shrouds, and heart renew'd,
I humbler course pursued.


Now, though evening shadows blacken,

And no star comes through the gloom, On I move, nor will I slacken

Sail, though verging tow'rds the tomb : Bright beyond,-on heaven's high strand, Lo, the lighthouse !-land, land, land !

Cloud and sunshine, wind and weather,

Sense and sight are fleeing fast; Time and tide must fail together,

Life and death will soon be past;

But where day's last spark declines,
Glory everlasting shines.



Dim as the borrow'd beams of moon and stars
To lonely, weary, wandering travellers,
Is Reason to the soul ; and as on high,
Those rolling fires discover but the sky,
Not light us here; so Reason's glimmering ray
Was lent, not to assure our doubtful way,
But guide us upward to a better day.
And as those nightly tapers disappear
When day's bright lord ascends our hemisphere;
So pale grows Reason at Religion's sight;
So dies, and so dissolves in supernatural light.


WEAK and irresolute is man ;

The purpose of to-day,

Woven with pain into his plan,

To-morrow rends away.

The bow well bent, and smart the spring,

Vice seems already slain :
But Passion rudely snaps the string,

And it revives again.

Some foe to his upright intent

Finds out his weaker part; Virtue engages his assent,

But Pleasure wins his heart.

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Tis here the folly of the wise

Through all his heart we view; And, while his tongue the charge denies,

His conscience owns it true.

Bound on a voyage of awful length

And dangers little known,
A stranger to superior strength,

Man vainly trusts his own.

But oars alone can ne'er prevail,

To reach the distant coast; The breath of heaven must swell the sail,

Or all the toil is lost.



FEAR was within the tossing bark,

When stormy winds grew loud,
And waves came rolling high and dark,

And the tall mast was bow'd.

And men stood breathless in their dread,

And baffled in their skill-
But one was there, who rose and said

To the wild sea, Be still !

And the wind ceased-it ceased that word

Pass'd through the gloomy sky ; The troubled billows knew their Lord, And sank beneath his


And slumber settled on the deep,

And silence on the blast,
As when the righteous falls asleep

When death's fierce throes are past.

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