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Well, lay me by my brother's side,

Where late we stood and wept;
For I was stricken when he died,-
I felt the arrow as he sighed
His last, and slept.

THE GARDEN OF GETHSEMANE.

PIERPONT.

O'ER Kedron's stream and Salem's height,
And Olivet's brown steep,

Moves the majestic queen of night,
And throws from heaven her silver light,
And sees the world asleep ;-

All but the children of distress,
Of sorrow, grief, and care-

Whom sleep, though prayed for, will not bless;-
These leave the couch of restlessness,

To breathe the cool, calm air.

For those who shun the glare of day,
There's a composing power,

That meets them, on their lonely way,
In the still air, the sober ray
Of this religious hour.

'Tis a religious hour;-for he,
Who many a grief shall bear,
In his own body on the tree,
Is kneeling in Gethsemane,
In agony and prayer.

1

O, Holy Father, when the light

Of earthly joy grows dim,

May hope in Christ grow strong and bright,
To all who kneel, in sorrow's night,

In trust and prayer like him.

DIVINE CONDESCENSION.

BARTON.

WHEN I view the vaulted sky,

Rear'd by thee, by thee sustain'd, Sun, and moon, and stars on high,

By thy fiat first ordain'd,

Lord! what is man? my spirit well may say,
That thou should'st thus be mindful of his way.

The world can proffer no relief,
E'en to the worldling-in his grief;
Its emptiness is then made known,
It loves-but cannot save its own.

Beasts have their dens-wherein they creep,
Leviathan-the billowy deep;

Birds to their nests for shelter flee;

Souls troubled and oppress'd—to thee!

Thou art their refuge :-in the day
Of trouble, thou art still their stay;
Thy name, in which is power sublime,
A shelter in the needful time.

But if we hope thine outstretch'd arm
In darker hours when ills would harm,

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MIDNIGHT HYMN.

H. MORE.

WHERE'ER I am, whate'er I see,
Eternal Lord, is full of thee!
I feel Thee in the gloom of night,
I see Thee in the morning light.
When care distracts my anxious soul,
Thy grace can every thought control;
Thy word can still the troubled heart,
And peace and confidence impart.

If pain invade my broken rest,
Or if corroding griefs molest;
Soon as the Comforter appears,
My sighs are hushed, and dried my tears.
Thy wisdom guides, Thy will directs,
Thy arm upholds, Thy power protects;
With Thee, when I at dawn converse,
The shadows sink, the clouds disperse.
Then, as the sun illumes the skies,
Oh, Sun of Righteousness, arise;
Dispel the fogs of mental night,
Being of beings, Light of light!

THE REIGN OF DECEMBER.
HEMANS.

In winter awful, lovely in the spring,
Romantic Cambria, hail! to thee I sing.

No longer now I view thy verdant trees,
Thy joyous harvest waving to the breeze;
Thy mountain streams, thy valleys filled with corn,
Thy larks which fly to greet the roseate morn;
Thy summer sun cheering all nature round,
Thy meads with Flora's early primrose crown'd;
The stores Pomona's liberal hand bestows,
And from her lap in rich profusion throws:
Of these no more I sing; those cheerful days
Are fled, and winter claims my pensive lays.
Yet even in winter charms may oft be view'd,
If by the philosophic mind pursu'd:
Yes, even in chilling frost, and blustering wind,
The grandeur of the Almighty Power we find.
Do not the winds aloud his praise declare?
Look at the snowy hills-we view him there!
Whether by cold we're nipp'd, or heat oppress'd,
In either is the Great Supreme confess'd.

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.

ANDREWS NORTON.

O STAY thy tears; for they are blessed,
Whose days are passed, whose toil is done;
Here midnight care disturbs our rest,
Here sorrow dims the noon-day sun.

For labouring virtue's anxious toil,
For patient sorrow's stifled sigh,
For faith that marks the conqueror's spoil,
Heaven grants the recompense, to die.

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