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Mark, how its foamy spray,
Mimics the bow of day
Thence in a summer shower,
Could majesty and power
Yet lovelier, in my view,
Traced by the brighter hue,
It flows through flowery meads,
Its quiet beauty feeds
Gently it murmurs by
A dirge-like melody,
More gaily now it sweeps
And o'er the pebbles leaps,
May not its course express,
The charms of gentleness,
What are the trophies gained
To that meek wreath, unstained,
Niagara's streams might fail,
But Egypt would turn pale,
BERNARD BARTON. THE GOOD CONFESSION.
The voice of my Saviour I hear,
The voice of his mercy and love,
Forgetting the pleasures above.
Too long has its thraldom enslaved,
It tells me, I cannot be saved !
The words seem so fearfully true,
That often I sadly exclaim, For me there's no heaven in view,
And me there is none to reclaim : Though trials without and within,
Have told that the world is no rest, My heart so polluted with sin,
Cannot look for the joys of the blest !
Yet now is the message conveyed,
In fulness of mercy to me,
On purpose that I should be free;
That Lamb was the ransom indeed, Who died for my sins to atone,
And lives for my rescue to plead !
And now that the music of bliss,
Dispels the dark vision of woe, For mercy so boundless as this,
What grateful return can I show ? Shall I shrink from avowing the love
Whose frequent pulsations I feel, Or, ashamed of my Saviour above,
His visit of mercy conceal ?
Ah, no! I will gladly avow
What things He has done for my soul, And then with his people below,
I'll hasten my name to enrol;
When death's shades are stealing
Sweet music bring,
bed And soft notes sing.
H. M. W.
“ LOVEST THOU ME?"
As the sunset hues away?
Lovest thou thy Saviour,--say?
By the Lord of earth and sea ?
Hear thy Saviour—" Lov'st thou me ?”
As the rainbow's vision gay ?
Lovest thou thy Saviour-say?
Joys and griefs of time's brief hour,
Life's free fountain is thy dower!