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Milton.-George Whitfield.

243

LXV.

MILTON.

OR second He that rode sublime,
Upon the seraph-wings of ecstasy,
The secrets of the abyss to spy ;
He passed the flaming bounds of place

and time :
The living throne, the fapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but, blafted with excess of light,
Closed his eyes in endless night.

GRAY.

LXVI.

GEORGE WHITFIELD,

E loved the world that hated him - the

tear

That dropped upon his Bible was fin

cere ;
Affailed by scandal and the tongue of

strife,
His only answer was a blameless life ;
And he that forged, and he that threw the dart,
Had each a brother's interest in his heart.

CowPER.

LXVII.

SCHWARTZ.

[graphic]

JIRM wast thou, humble and wise,

Honest, pure, free from disguise ;
Father of orphans, the widow's sup-

port;

Ccmfort in sorrow of every sort.
To the benighted, dispenser of light;
Doing and pointing to that which is right;
Blessing to princes, to people, to me :
May I, my Father, be worthy of thee,
Wishes and prayeth thy Sarabojee.

SARABOJEE.

LXVIII.

HENRY MARTYN.

ERE Martyn lies ! In manhood's early

bloom,
The Christian hero found a Pagan tomb.
Religion, forrowing o'er her fav'rite fon,
Points to the glorious trophies which he

[graphic]

won.

Immortal trophies ! Not with slaughter red,
Nor stained with tears, by hapless orphans shed ;
But trophies of the Cross! In that dear name,
Through every scene of danger, toil, and shame,
Onward he journeyed to that peaceful shore,
Where danger, toil, and shame, are known no more.

MACAULAY,

LXIX.

GOD'S WORKS.

HESE are thy glorious works, Thou

Source of Good !
How dimly seen, how faintly under-

stood !

LXX.

LIFE.
IVE while you live, the Epicure will

say,
And give to pleasure each returning day;
Live while you live, the Sacred Preacher

cries,
And give to God each moment as it flies :
Lord,

in
my

view let both united be!
I live to pleasure while I live to Thee.

DODDRIDGE.

LXXI.

LIFE.

UR birth is but a sleep and a forgetting :

The soul that rises with us, our

life's ftar,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar-
Not in entire forgetfulness,

And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home-
Heaven lies around us in our infancy ;
Shades of the prison-house begin to close

Upon the growing boy-
Yet he beholds the light, and whence it flows;
He sees it in his joy.

WORDSWORTH.

[graphic]

LXXII.

DEATH.

O me the thought of death is terrible,
Having such a hold on life. To thee

it is not
So much even as the lifting of a latch;

Only a step into the open air Out of a tent already luminous With light that shines through its transparent walls.

[graphic]

Death.-The Three Graces.

247

LXXIII.

DEATH.

WHAT is death? 'Tis life's last shore,
Where vanities are vain no more ;
Where all pursuits their goal obtain,
And life is all retouched again.

LXXIV.

THE THREE GRACES.

H! give me Faith!
The sweet assurance that a Saviour

died
That, for my sins, His flesh was cru-

fied Lasting till death!

Hope give me, too!The glorious hope that Thou, O God! art mine ; This beacon light in me for ever shine,

Joyful and true.

And give me Love !
Love for my neighbour and Jehovah's name ;
Unfailing, boundless love my heart inflame,

Sprung from above.

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