LIV. HOLY SCRIPTURE. ERE is the fpring whence waters flow, Here is the tree, where truth doth grow, To lead our lives therein. Here is the Judge that ftints the ftrife, When men's devices fail; Here is the bread, that feeds the life, The tidings of falvation dear, Then be not like the Hog, that hath Yet takes more pleasure in the trough, Read not this book in any cafe, But with a fingle eye; Read not, but firft defire God's grace To understand thereby. Stay ftill in faith, with this refpect, To fructify therein; That knowledge may bring this effect, Then happy thou, in all thy life, Yea, doubly happy fhalt thou be, LV. THE REDEEMER. ND who is He? the vaft, the awful form, Girt with the whirlwind, fandal'd with the ftorm; A western cloud around His limbs is fpread, His crown a rainbow, and a fun His head. Lo! cherub hands the golden courts prepare ; Nor fun, nor moon, they need, nor day, nor night, God is their temple, and the Lamb their light; * These lines are to be found in the "Bishop's Bible" of 1568. And fhall not Ifrael's fons exulting come, Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home? And the hoarfe flood repeats the found of praise; LVI. A DREAM. SLEPT; and in my fleep I dreamed Which, like a mighty barrier, feemed Its lofty fummit touched the skies, And as I gazed, it seemed to rife, An icy ftillness o'er me ftole, And thrilled through every fense; In fore diftrefs, I cried aloud And out of it there came a drop, And lo! the mountain passed away, Beyond it lay a fruitful land, With rivers deep and wide, Befide them goodly trees, endued And flowers with ravished eyes I viewed, And there his sheep a fhepherd fed, In pastures green and fair, And unto living fountains led, With ever-watchful care. Good Shepherd, well I know Thee now, With ardent voice I cried; Thou art my Lord and Saviour, Thou, The Lamb, the Crucified. The mountain was the load of guilt, My guilty foul, O Lord, renew LVII. THE SEA OF GALILEE. OW pleasant to me thy deep blue wave, O Sea of Galilee ! For the glorious One who came to fave Fair are the lakes in the land I love, Where the pine and heather grow; But thou haft loveliness far above It is not that the wild Gazelle Comes down to drink thy tide; But He that was pierced to fave from hell |