By day or night, in toil or rest, With thee, my fond heart finds its rest, And, come what can, of pains or cares, Of joys, or griefs, to me; I still will shield thee, with my prayers, RIVERSIDE, August 30, 1852. "PERFECT, THROUGH SUFFERINGS." HEB. II. 10. PERFECT, through sufferings:" may it be, I bow, I kiss, I bless the rod, That brings me nearer to my God. "Perfect, through sufferings:" be Thy Cross The crucible, to purge my dross! Welcome, for that, its pangs, its scorns, Its scourge, its nails, its crown of thorns. "Perfect, through sufferings:" heap the fire, And pile the sacrificial pyre; But spare each loved and loving one, And let me feel the flames, alone. "Perfect, through sufferings:" urge the blast, It recks not where the dust be trod, THE BREAKERS, June 1, 1853. THE CHURCH OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS, (IN ALBANY ;) "A HOUSE OF PRAYER FOR ALL PEOPLE;" Was Erected by a Childless Man, as the Memorial of his Four Dead Children. In the Chancel, is a mural tablet, of the purest marble, with the simple record of their names and deaths, in four compartments, surrounded and separated by an exquisite wreath of lilies of the valley, the leaves and flowers, together; the design of a young saint, (the wife of the architect,) who came from a Northern climate, to find, with us, an early grave. At the foot of the tablet, a lamb is sleeping, on the cross. "Behold the lilies, how they grow." "Of such, is the kingdom of God." SWEET lilies of the valley, ye have been, From earliest childhood, my instinctive joy ; That tricksome spring, in her embroidery weaves. I've twined you, on the breast of blushing bride, And childless sorrow kissed the rod, and smiled. Ye charm, anew, my meditative heart; Four lovely children glide, into the grave; Enwreathed with lilies, he records his loss; "RORES, FLORES." WHEN April showers Wake up the flowers, From their long winter's sleep, The crocus starts, The rose-bud parts, The fragrant violets peep. When tear-drops fall, On penitential heart, The perfect peace, Like flowers in Spring, will start. TO ONE OF RAPHAEL'S ANGELS.* "Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my FATHER which is in heaven." SWEET angel, while I gaze on thee, So mute, so meek, so mild, I deem that thou must surely be The angel of some child; To whom the SAVIOUR said, such grace, Sweet angel, I would be like thee, Engaged with things above; * That one of the two at the foot of the Madonna di S. Sisto, which is leaning on both arms. My thoughts, turned off from earth, like thine, "Commercing with the skies," Till all the Majesty Divine Grow radiant, to mine eyes. Sweet angel, I will ever pray, So, through the Cross, such grace to me, That thou for me, may'st always see My FATHER's face, in Heaven. THE BREAKERS, June, 1853. THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM-BY CRAWFORD. TO S. P. O. SWEET maiden, I would be like thee, As heavenward, eye, and thought, and heart; And foot, as lightly, to the earth, Like greyhound, straining on the start; As closely to the Cross, I'd cling, And lean as simply on its stay; Sweet maiden, by that scollop shell, Thy thoughts are, where the Saviour lay; As dead to self, as dead to sin; With thee, His Cross, on earth, to bear, 1853. TO MY SWEET GRAND-DAUGHTER, ELIZA GREENE DOANE, ON HER BAPTISMAL BIRTH-DAY. SWEET baby, when thy father Now, two and twenty winters Have heaped on us their snows: In the sunshine of our sunshine, Thou meek and gentle Jesus, And humbly, we implore Thy grace, To keep her for Thine own; Before Thy glorious throne. RIVERSIDE, ST. Andrew's Day, 1834. |