Canadian Wild Flowers Part 21

Why is thy face unseen, and thou unknown?-- Source and support of all, why is thy form Hidden from mortal eyes? when every storm That sweeps athwart the dark and angry sky, When all the bright and burning orbs on high, When the deep sea that in its fury roars, When all its beautiful and fertile sh.o.r.es, When every river, hill and lowly dale, When every mountain, tree, and flowery vale, When every bird, and e'en the springing Whisper aloud, _"There is, there is a G.o.d!"_

These are thy works; but where, O G.o.d, art thou?

Pavilioned in deep darkness, is thy brow Hid in dark folds, ne'er to be drawn apart?

Will mortal never see thee as thou art?

Yes; when the wheels of time have ceased to run, When yon bright orb its glorious, task has done, Then will the veil be rent which once concealed The throne of G.o.d, the mighty unrevealed; Then human eyes will view his dwelling-place, And saints, as angels, see him face to face.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

Lo in the east the Star begins to rise.

The glorious centre for admiring eyes Of men and angels--Herald of the morn So long foretold, the Prince of peace is born!

O'er all the earth let hallelujahs ring, Let all the earth a fitting tribute bring-- With gold and silver, frankincense and myrrh.

Come from the south, or, clad in robes of fur, Come from the frozen north, from east and west, Prince, priest and warrior, earth's great ones and best, Come to the manger, humbly there lay down The sword, the mitre and the jeweled crown.

The rich and n.o.ble celebrate the day With pomp and show; but who are these? make way Ye sons of wealth! ye rulers stand aside!

This is no place, this is no hour for pride; The sick, the lame, the Wind, the deaf, the dumb, The sinful, poor and sorrowful may come; And even I can bring my little store-- A weary, sin-sick heart--I've nothing more: The world may frown, the lofty may despise, The gift is precious in my Saviour's eyes.

To him as sacred are the tears that fall In lowly cottage as in princely hall,-- No rich, no poor his loving bosom knows, He cares for all and pities all their woes, In the same censer offers up their prayers, And on his heart their names alike he bears.

O Star above all stars! whose blessed light Illumes the darkness of our moral night, Still guide our wandering feet till He whose birth Thou didst announce shall come again to earth, And wise and simple, king and subject meet To hear their doom before the judgment-seat,-- Till nature's groans with human groans shall cease, And Earth itself, once more with Heaven at peace, Shall put her robes of deathless beauty on, Time be no more, and the millennium dawn!

G.o.d MADE ME POOR.

G.o.d made me poor--am I to blame?

And shall I bow my head As though it were some dreadful shame I had inherited?

Shall I among the rich and great Like trembling culprit stand, Or like obedient servant wait To do their least command?

And when they pa.s.s me by in scorn-- As they have often done,-- Shall I regret that I was born An humble farmer's son?

No! should it ever cause a sigh This were indeed a shame; For all unworthy then were I To bear my father's name.

I'll pay to all the homage due Whatever rank they hold; But to my manhood ever true, _I will not bow to gold,_

THE STRANGER GUEST.

Came a stranger, sad and weary, To my humble cot one day, And he asked me for a shelter,-- Long and rough had been the way He had traveled On that sultry summer day.

Pain and grief had marred his beauty, And a tear was in his eye As he asked me for a shelter, And then waited a reply.

Tears did gather In mine own, I knew not why.

'Neath my humble roof I led him, As he crossed the threshold o'er "Peace to thee," he softly whispered; Peace I never knew before Filled my bosom, As the stranger filled my door.

Be my friend and guest forever, In a trembling voice I said; And he smiled and laid so gently One dear hand upon my head; It was bleeding, And I knew for me it bled!

"I will be thy guest forever,"

Said the stranger unto me; "But the cost--say, hast thou counted-- Counted what the cost will be?

Earthly pleasures, Wilt thou leave them all for me?

"Wilt thou take my yoke upon thee?

Wilt thou humbly bear my name?

Crush the risings of ambition, And the hopes of earthly fame?

Freely suffering, For my sake, reproach and shame?"

Then I said, Both fame and pleasure Willingly I can resign; Let me only feel thy presence, Let me know that thou art mine, And dear Saviour, All I have and am are thine!

A LONG DELIGHTFUL WALK.

While reading to-day an account of the descendants of Adam my mind was particularly struck with the short but comprehensive narrative of Enoch: "He walked with G.o.d, and he was not; for G.o.d took him" (Gen.

5:21-24). He "walked with G.o.d," and how long? "Three hundred years"

after he begat Methuselah. Oh, how strange that it should be so hard for me to walk in the commandments of the Lord even for a few days! O G.o.d, give me more of the love and more of the faith that Enoch possessed.--_Aug._ 18,1853.

"THE SERVANT IS NOT ABOVE HIS MASTER."

Lonely pilgrim, art thou sinking 'Neath the weight of grief and care?

Bitter dregs of sorrow drinking From the cup of dark despair?

Mourn not, for thy Master's footsteps The same gloomy paths have trod He has drained the cup of anguish,-- He, the mighty Son of G.o.d.

Does gaunt poverty surround thee, With its pale and meagre train?

Do they gather closely round thee, Want, and suffering and pain?

Mourn not, for the chilly dew-drops, Fell upon thy Master's bed; Mourn not, for the Prince of Glory Had not where to lay his head!

Are thy kindred lowly lying In the cold and silent tomb, Heedless of thy plaintive sighing, Heedless of thy grief and gloom?

Know thy Master's tears descended, Where a dearly-loved one slept; He knows well thy weight of sorrow; Murmur not, for Jesus wept.

Do the friends that once caressed thee Pa.s.s thee by with frowning brow?

Has the friendship that once blessed thee Changed to bitter hatred now?

Weep not, for thy Masters brethren In his sorrow turned aside, Scorned to own that once they loved him; Weep not,--Jesus was denied!

Does a scoffing world deride thee, And expose to scorn and shame?

Do thy foes rise up beside thee, Blast thy character and name?