FROM LAYS OF THE EARLY MARTYRS.
The iron chain hath bound him Which mercy never broke; The echoes sleep around him Which gladness never woke; No bright ray cheers his dungeon gloom, Meet prelude to the darker tomb. His young bride knelt imploring, They recked not of her prayer; His aged sire was pouring
The plaints of wild despair:
In vain--they dragged him to his cell, Scarce might he pause to breathe-farewell. Yet calmly is be sleeping
On earth, his only bed;
While armed guards are keeping Their vigils o'er his head;
And voices through the midnight gloom, And hurrying steps proclaim his doom. A tyrant's wrath enchains him
To die the death of shame; The only guilt that stains him, He bears a Christian's name :
name-unhonored-unforgiven- So loathed by man-so loved by Heaven. Now joyous morn is breaking Bright o'er the empurpled sky, The fettered captive waking Remembers death is nigh:
Yet his firm step and placid brow Nor sign of doubt, or fear avow. A quenchless hope shall cheer him In nature's weakest hour; His Lord is ever near him
With arm of matchless power: And guilt may fear, or falsehood fly, The faithful Christian dares to die. One prayer for her, the dearest, His own beloved bride, In peril's hour the nearest, And firmest, at his side:
Then on, without a tear or sigh, On to the scene of agony !
But soon shall he awaken,
On realms more bright and fair;
Here lorn-though not forsaken; By angels welcomed there.
Where death shall then thy triumph be, And where, O grave, thy victory?
doom be when array'd in terror, God shall command thee, cover'd with pol
THE VOICE OF WARNING.
Ah, guilty sinner, ruin'd by transgression, What shall thy doom be, when array'd in terror, God shall command thee, cover'd with pollution, Up to the judgment? Wilt thou escape from his omniscient notice, Fly to the caverns, court annihilation? Vain thy presumption, justice still shall triumph In thy destruction. Stop, thoughtless sinner, stop awhile and ponder, Ere death arrest thee, and the Judge, in vengeance, Hurl from his presence thine affrighted spirit, Swift to perdition.
Oft has he called thee, but thou wouldst not hear him, Mercies and judgments have alike been slighted; Yet he is gracious, and with arms unfolded, Waits to embrace thee.
Come, then, poor sinner, come away this moment, Just as you are, come, filthy and polluted, Come to the fountain open for uncleanness; Jesus invites you.
But, if you trifle with his gracious message, Cleave to the world and love its guilty pleasures, Mercy, grown weary, shall in righteous judgment, Quit you for ever.
Then you shall call, but he will not regard you, Seek for his favor, yet shall never find it, Cry to the rocks to hide you from his presence,
Where the worm dies not, and the fire eternal, Fills the lost soul with anguish and with terror, There shall the sinner spend a long for ever. Dying unpardoned.
Oh! guilty sinner, hear the voice of warning; Fly to the Saviour, and embrace his pardon; So shall your spirit meet, with joy triumphant, Death and the judgment
MARY HATH CHOSEN THAT BETTER PART, WHICH SHALL NOT BE TAKEN FROM HER.-ST. LUKE.
While the skies of youth are o'er thee, And beneath thy feet its flowers, Hope's delightful dream before thee, And around thee Pleasure's bow'rs,
Take the gifts that Heav'n provides thee To enjoy with grateful heart,
But the Lord who made and guides thee, Oh! choose Him thy "better part."
So, when youth's bright skies are vanish'd, And its freshest flowers shall fade, Hope's delightful dream be banish'd, Pleasures's fairest bow'rs decay'd,— Blessings still shall rest upon thee, How distress'd so e'er thou art, Which shall ne'er be taken from thee, If thou choose the "better part."
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