And his weariness would pass away,
And many thoughts of sin,
Because of him the old man grey,
The priest of God within.
O softly fell the twilight,
And the sunlight of the clime,
On that dwelling mid the mountains,
Whose crowned crests sublime
O'erlooked a thousand humble homes;
But only one abode,
Of a husbandman whose life was spent
In sowing seed for God.
A SWALLOW in the spring
Came to our granary, and 'neath the eaves
Essay'd to make her nest, and there did bring
Wet earth, and straw, and leaves.
With patient art; but, ere her work was crown'd, Some sad mishap the tiny fabric spoil'd,
And dash'd it to the ground.
She found the ruin wrought:
Yet not cast down, forth from her place she flew, And with her mate fresh earth and grasses brought,
But scarcely had she placed
The last soft feather on its ample floor,
When wicked hands, or chance again laid waste,
And wrought the ruin o'er.
But still her heart she kept,
And toil'd again; and, last night hearing calls,
I look'd, and lo! three little swallows slept
Within the earth-made walls.
What trust is here, O Man!
Hath Hope been smitten in its early dawn?
Have clouds o'ercast thy purpose, trust, or plan?
Have faith and struggle on!
THIS is the field, the world below,
In which the sowers came to sow :
Jesus the wheat; Satan-the tares,
For so the word of God declares ;
And soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.
Most awful truth, and is it so ?
Must all the world the harvest know?
Is every man a wheat or tare?
Then for the harvest, Oh! prepare!
For soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.
To love my sins, a saint to appear—
To grow with wheat, and be a tare—
May serve me while on earth below,
Where tares and wheat together grow;
But soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.
But all who truly righteous be,
Their Father's Kingdom then shall see ;
Shine like the sun for ever there-
He that hath ears, then, let him hear;
For soon the reaping time will come,
And angels shout the harvest home.
PRAYER FOR OLD ENGLAND.
Now pray we for our country,
That England long may be
The holy and the happy,
And the gloriously free:
Who blesseth her is blessed,
So peace be in her walls,
And joy in all her palaces,
Her cottages and halls !
For brethren and companions
We pray, that they may be
Both holy and happy,
And from sin and sorrow free.
May Jesu's kingdom flourish,
So error's throne shall fall,
And Britain, free and grateful,
Shall own Him Lord of all.
GOD save our gracious Queen,
Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen.
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us :
God save the Queen.
O Lord our God, arise,
Scatter her enemies,
And make them fall:
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their Popish tricks,
On Thee our hopes we fix :
O save us all.
Thy choicest gifts in store
On her be pleased to pour,
Long may she reign;
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice,
God save the Queen.
GOD save the Queen! a thousand voices cry,
Though death her thread of life will sometime sever:
God save the Queen! a nation's hopes reply;
God save the Queen! for ever and for ever!
PRINTED BY B. HUNT AND SONS, HIGH STREET, BIRMINGHAM.
|