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FOR SERVANTS.

634.

He laboured in the fields, his bread to gain,
He ploughed, he sowed, he reaped the yellow grain;
Fruitful, through Christ, in works of faith and love,
He lives to reap the joys of heaven above.

635.

True to his Church, he came, no Sunday shower
Kept him at home, at the appointed hour;
Nor his firm feet could one persuading sect
By the strong glare of their new light direct.
No longer present in the house of prayer,
We view his seat, and sigh for William there;
A wise, good man, contented to be poor,
He sleeps in Jesus-grieve for him no more.*

636.

This lowly tomb records no titled fame,
It only bears "a faithful servant's name;'
Servant of man below-of Christ above,
He died rejoicing in his Saviour's love.

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*Written to the memory of a pious labourer in the Author's parish. Though distant two miles from church, his attendance was early, as well as constant.

637.

"T was stern disease his footsteps staid,
And down the woodman's axe was laid;
No more the forest feared his stroke-
He fell as falls the rugged oak,
And like that rugged oak must lie,
Till called to judgment in the sky.
There shall he find his home above,
Welcom'd and blest with Jesus' love.

638.

This stone is erected to an aged domestic, whose memory will be long cherished with affection by the family she long and faithfully served.

639.

Born to a lot of persevering toil,

He watch'd withal, and trimm'd his lamp with oil ; Resolved, by grace, to make the better choice, And be prepar'd to hear the Bridegroom's voice.

640.

May all your hours be given,
To Him from whom they flow,
And ever raise your heart to heaven,
While working here below.
Thus each passing day shall be,

A step the nearer, Lord, to thee.

FOR THE BLIND, DEAF, 迎您

ET G.

How oft hath sorrow yielded good,
Which prosperous days refused;

As herbs, which scentless when entire,
Shed fragrance when they're bruised.

641.

He who decreed I should be blind,
Poured light divine upon my mind;
His Gospel well supplied my need,
His grace my soul from darkness freed;
And now, with angel's vision bright,
I praise him in the realms of light.

642.

Blind from the hour which gave me birth,
I never saw the heavens or earth;

Without one sweet and cheering ray,

I travell'd on my gloomy way,

Hoping at death to see that light,

Which shines in heaven with radiance bright,

To see my blessed Saviour's face,

Beaming with glory and with grace.

643.

Blind from my cradle to my cold, dark tomb,
No ray of light was mine amid the gloom ;
Yet did my God, in love and mercy, give
A light from heaven, and bade the sinner live—
That light which did “reveal his Son in me,”
And from eternal darkness set me free.
No longer now is life a dreary night,
My Lord's my glory, and my God's my light.

644.

Deaf were my ears, and dumb my tongue,
A Saviour's name I never sung;
But He who made the deaf to hear,
Endued my soul with heavenly fear,
And caused my heart to feel that love,
Which now I sing with saints above.

645.

Dumb whilst I lived on earth, and deaf,
From mortal sounds debarred;

For me the organ pealed in vain,

The anthem swelled unheard.

But faith could hear my Saviour speak,

In accents sweet and mild;

Silent and deep, my heart replied,

And I was owned a child.

At last my tongue the songs of heaven employ, My opened ears sound with eternal joy.

646.

Now I am mute no more,

My sad and silent years,

With all their loneliness, are o'er;

He wiped away my tears,

Whose saving blood from Calvary streamed, The precious price of his redeemed.

647.

Long from the joys of earthly sight
Shut out a mercy all divine
Vouchsafed a ray of inward light,
Upon her lowly path to shine.
Hence, led by faith, with patient mind,
She journey'd to an end serene,
As one who sought in time to find
A joy by mortal eye ne'er seen.

648.

A Romish bigot I was strictly bred,
In superstition's chain my soul was led ;
Oft to a priest in vain my sins confest,
For he could give my soul no peace nor rest;
But when my Bible I did humbly read,
Then was my soul from Papal bondage freed;
And to my Saviour I my sins confest,

Whose pard'ning mercy gave me peace and rest.

649.

Here lies a poor, converted Jew,
Despised by many, loved by few;
But he who wandered once forlorn,
The object of contempt and scorn,
Was brought in Jesus to believe,
And pardon from his love receive.

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