THE God of nature and of grace
In all his works appears;
His goodness through the earth we trace,
His grandeur in the spheres.
Behold this fair and fertile globe,
By Him in wisdom plann'd;
'Twas He who girded like a robe,
The ocean round the land.
Lift to the firmament your eye,
Thither his path pursue;
His glory, boundless as the sky,
O'erwhelms the wondering view.
The forests in his strength rejoice:
Hark! on the evening breeze,
As once of old, the Lord God's voice
Is heard among the trees.
His blessings fall in plenteous showers,
Upon the lap of earth,
That teems with foliage, fruit and flowers,
And rings with infant mirth.
If God hath made this world so fair,
Where sin and death abound; How beautiful beyond compare, Will Paradise be found!
BENEATH our feet and o'er our head
Is equal warning given;
Beneath us lie the countless dead,
Above us is the heaven.
Our eyes have seen the rosy light
Of youth's soft cheek decay,
And death descend in sudden night
On manhood's middle day.
Our eyes have seen the steps of age
Halt feebly towards the tomb;
And yet shall earth our hearts engage,
And dreams of days to come?
Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know;
Where'er thy foot can tread
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead.
Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply
To truths divinely given;
The bodies that beneath thee lie
Shall live for hell or heaven.
WOULDST thou from sorrow find a sweet relief?
Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold?
Balm wouldst thou gather for corroding grief?
Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold.
Rouse to some work of high and holy love,
And thou an angel's happiness shalt know,
Shalt bless the earth while in the world above;
The good begun by thee shall onward flow
In many a branching stream, and wider grow;
The seed that in these few and fleeting hours,
Thy hands unsparing and unwearied sow,
Shall deck thy grave with never-fading flowers,
And yield thee fruit divine in heaven's immortal
bowers.
My God! my Father! blissful name!
O may I call Thee mine!
May I, with sweet assurance, claim
A portion so divine!
This only can my fears control,
And bid my sorrows fly;
No harm can ever reach my soul
Beneath my Father's eye.
Whate'er thy providence denies,
I calmly would resign;
For Thou art just, and good, and wise;
Oh! bend my will to thine.
Whate'er thy sacred will ordains,
Give me the strength to bear;
Let me be sure my Father reigns,
And trust his tender care!
Thy sovereign ways are all unknown
To my weak, erring sight;
Yet let my soul adoring own,
That all thy ways are right!
WHICH HE SUNG A SHORT TIME BEFORE
HE DIED.
BELOVED Saviour! let not me
In thy kind heart forgotten be;
Of all that deck the field or bower,
Thou art the fairest, sweetest flower.
Youth's prime is o'er, old age comes on,
But sin distracts my soul alone :
Beloved Saviour, let not me
In thy kind heart forgotten be.
Abdul Musseeh was a learned Mahometan, who was led to embrace Christianity by Henry Martyn, at Cawnpore; and was afterwards ordained Deacon by Bishop Heber. He died in 1827.
DID sweeter strains adorn my flowing tongue
Than ever man pronounced or angel sung;
Had I all knowledge human and divine
That thought can reach, or science can define.
Yet did not charity, that heavenly guest,
Reign the full sovereign of my willing breast,
A tinkling cymbal would my worth surpass,
And all my boasting prove like sounding brass.
Not soon provoked, o'er guilt and woe she grieves,
She suffers all things, all things she believes :
peace she brings where'er extends her sway,
And, sent from heaven, to heaven she leads the way.
While every gift beside which God bestows,
Its proper bounds and stated limit knows ;
Though tongues and miracles no more prevail,
And prophecies shall cease, and knowledge fail;
Immortal Charity! whose ample scope
Transcending these, out-measures Faith and Hope, Shall never fail; but changed to perfect love, Diffuse its blessings through the realms above.
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