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CHRIST'S AGONY IN THE GARDEN.
He knelt—the Saviour knelt and pray'd,
The sun set in a fearful hour,
He knew them all—the doubt, the strife,
110 CHRIST'S AGONY IN THE GARDEN.
It pass'd not—though the stormy wave
It pass'd not—though to Him the grave
But there was sent Him from on high
A gift of strength, for man to die.”
And was His mortal hour beset
—How may we meet our conflict yet,
How, but through Him, that path who trod?
Save, or we perish, Son of God!
* “And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven,
Thou art no lingerer in monarch's hall,
Thou art walking the billows, and Ocean smiles— Thou hast touch'd with glory his thousand isles— Thou hast lit up the ships, and the feathery foam, And gladden'd the sailor, like words from home.
To the solemn depths of the forest-shades,
I look'd on the mountains—a vapor lay
A crown and a mantle of living flame.
I look'd on the peasant's lowly cot—
And it laugh’d into beauty at that bright spell.
To the earth's wild places a guest thou art,
Thou tak'st through the dim church-aisle thy way,
And thou turnest not from the humblest grave, Where a flower to the sighing winds may wave; Thou scatterest its gloom like the dreams of rest,
Thou sleepest in love on its grassy breast.
Sunbeam of summer, oh! what is like theef
THE TRAVELLER AT THE SOURCE OF
IN sunset's light o'er Afric thrown,
He heard its life's first murmuring sound,
A music sought, but never found
He listen’d—and his heart beat high—
That was the song of victory !
The rapture of a conqueror's mood