274. C. M. Sarah F. Adams.

The Strength of Hope.

1 The world may change from old to new, From new to old again; Yet hope and heaven, forever true, Within man's heart remain.

The dreams that bless the weary soul, The struggles of the strong, Are steps towards some happy goal, The story of hope's song.

2 Hope leads the child to plant the flower, The man to sow the seed; Nor leaves fulfilment to her hour,-- But prompts again to deed.

And ere upon the old man's dust The gra.s.s is seen to wave, We look through falling tears, to trust Hope's sunshine on the grave.

3 O, no! it is no flattering lure, No fancy weak or fond, When hope would bid us rest secure In better life beyond.

Nor love, nor shame, nor grief, nor sin, Her promise may gainsay; The voice divine hath spoke within, And G.o.d did ne'er betray.

275. C. M. Chr. Register.

Faith Triumphant Over Sorrow.

1 Not that Thy boundless love, my G.o.d, Sheds blessing on my way, And gilds as with a heavenly beam The darkness of earth's day,-- Not now for breath of summer flowers, For smiles of sunny skies, The still, small voice of grat.i.tude Shall to Thine ear arise.

2 I bless Thee for the ministry Of sorrow's lonely hour, When darkly o'er my stricken head I see the storm-clouds lower; Thy love can still the billows' roar, And whisper, "Peace; be still!"

While faith doth on Thy promise rest, And bless the Father's will.

3 The shadow and the storm must come; O, grant that faith divine Which triumphs o'er the might of grief, And moulds man's will to Thine!

In hours of deepest gloom, mine eye One blessed ray can see; A sunlit side that cloud must have, Which hides Thy face from me.

276. L. M. Jane Roscoe.

The Bitter Cup.

1 Thy will be done! I will not fear The fate provided by Thy love; Though clouds and darkness shroud me here, I know that all is bright above.

2 The stars of heaven are shining on, Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears; And though the hopes of earth be gone, Yet are not ours the immortal years?

3 Father! forgive the heart that clings, Thus trembling, to the things of time; And bid the soul, on angel wings, Ascend into a purer clime.

4 There shall no doubts disturb its trust, No sorrows dim celestial love; But these afflictions of the dust, Like shadows of the night, remove.

5 That glorious life will well repay This life of toil and care and woe; O Father! joyful on my way, To drink Thy bitter cup, I go.

277. S. M. Doddridge.

I Say unto You, Watch!

1 Ye servants of the Lord!

Each in your office wait, Observant of His heavenly word, And watchful at His gate.

2 Let all your lamps be bright, And trim the golden flame: Gird up your loins, as in His sight; For holy is His name.

3 Watch! 'tis your Lord's command; And while we speak, He's near: Mark the first signal of His hand, And ready all appear.

4 O happy servant he In such a posture found!

He shall his Lord with rapture see, And be with honor crowned.

278. P. M. Whittier.

Patience.

1 Shall we grow weary in our watch, And murmur at the long delay, Impatient of our Father's time And his appointed way?

2 O, oft a deeper test of faith Than prison-cell, or martyr's stake, The self-renouncing watchfulness Of silent prayer may make.

3 We gird us bravely to rebuke Our erring brother in the wrong; And in the ear of pride and power Our warning voice is strong.

4 Easier to smite with Peter's sword Than watch one hour in humbling prayer; Life's great things, like the Syrian lord, Our hearts can do and dare:

5 But, O, we shrink from Jordan's side, From waters which alone can save; And murmur for Abana's banks And Pharpar's brighter wave.

6 O Thou, who in the garden's shade Didst wake thy weary ones again, Who slumbered at that fearful hour, Forgetful of thy pain,--

7 Bend o'er us now, as over them, And set our sleep-bound spirits free, Nor leave us slumbering in the watch Our souls should keep with thee!

279. L. M. Wotton.

Independence.

1 How happy is he born or taught Who serveth not another's will; Whose armor is his honest thought, And simple truth his highest skill;

2 Whose pa.s.sions not his masters are; Whose soul is still prepared for death; Not tied unto the world with care Of public fame or private breath;