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diff --git a/34752.txt b/34752.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c28e020 --- /dev/null +++ b/34752.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5895 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Rebekah Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Poems + With a Sketch of the Life and Experience of Annie R. Smith + +Author: Rebekah Smith + +Release Date: December 25, 2010 [EBook #34752] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + + + + +Produced by Heather Clark, Stephen Hutcheson, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + POEMS: + WITH + A SKETCH + OF THE + Life and Experience + OF + ANNIE R. SMITH. + + + BY + MRS. REBEKAH SMITH. + + MANCHESTER, N. H. + JOHN B. CLARKE, PRINTER. + 1871. + + + + + PREFACE. + + +A small volume of poems entitled, "Home Here and Home in Heaven," by +Annie R. Smith, appeared shortly after her death, in 1855. Her numerous +friends wishing some account of her life and last sickness, have from +time to time desired me to prepare such a sketch for publication. I have +also been requested to publish in connection therewith, a collection of +my own poetical efforts. This is the immediate occasion of the appearance +of the present volume, the publication of which, circumstances have +conspired to delay till the present time. It lays no claim to literary +merit, but professes to be only a description in rhyme of some of the +ordinary experiences of life, and the common feelings of the heart. I +have appended some additional pieces written by Annie R. Smith, and some +by Uriah Smith, which I have desired to see published in this form. It is +commended to the charitable consideration of friends, with the hope that +its appearance may prove a gratification and a benefit to some. + + Mrs. Rebekah Smith. + + West Wilton, N. H. + + + + + POEMS. + + + + + Life's Conflict. + + + In the deep recess of the inmost heart, + Where Satan tempts and angels come to shield, + Are foes by which we would be overcome, + Were Christ not with us on the battle-field. + + The tempter, seeking whom he may devour, + Would sift as wheat, and finally prevail; + But Jesus intercedes and prays for us, + That faith in these dread conflicts may not fail. + + These calls unheeded, who the end can know? + The Spirit grieved and angels forced to leave, + The victims, though unconscious, hastening where + No pardoning love is found, and no reprieve. + + If yet there's hope, one mighty effort make + To conquer, and the enemy defeat; + Watch unto prayer, in Jesus Christ abide, + And hasten to be made in him complete. + + No true enjoyment here aside from this. + No other name on earth e'er to be given, + Through him we must be cleansed and purified, + Or closed to us will be the gates of Heaven. + + + + + Christian Love. + + + Jesus sees, he feels, he pities; he for us keen anguish knew, + He was numbered with transgressors; harmless, but his friends were few. + Those immersed in love's deep ocean, nothing will or can offend; + They will bow in sweet submission, knowing Heaven will them defend. + + Let us then our suffering brother seek where'er his lot is cast; + Priests and Levites having seen him, on the other side have passed; + But of God he's not forsaken; He has known each bitter pang; + He has seen his tears and sorrows, and has known from whence they + sprang. + + Jesus sees when best to succor, every wrong will bring to light; + He will have obedient children who in doing good delight, + Who will move in love and pity, bleeding wounds to soothe and bind, + Good Samaritans, who ever seek some path of love to find. + + Courage new is then imparted, chilling words no more oppress; + Oh! for more true kindred spirits, who would make our sufferings less. + Lord forgive thine erring people; form them for thyself alone; + Then they'll bear each other's burdens, calling nought they have their + own. + + Then each suffering child of sorrow would be watched with tender care, + Love and pity for the erring would be felt and witnessed there. + Strife and jealousy would vanish; love be felt that works no ill; + Peace, sweet peace, and joy and gladness, would each home and bosom + fill. + + + + + Love Not the World. + + + Love not the world, trust not its joys; uncertain is their stay; + Its treasures I've so highly prized, on wings have flown away. + Its riches I would not recall, their loss would not deplore; + Content I'll be if but my Lord salvation's joys restore. + + Nature inclines us all to seek, a rich and grand career; + Undue attachment will but make our losses more severe. + Hardly we know how much we love our friends and things below, + Till called to see them one by one from our possession go. + + How often then the stricken heart deplores no comfort left, + Forgetting we have blessings still, of which we're not bereft. + Let houses, lands and splendor go, surroundings all upset, + If home is where we've friends to love, and friends to love us yet. + + With such a home, no matter where, how unadorned the place, + If but my Lord's, he'll visit there, and with his presence grace. + Thus consecrated to the Lord, his glory will be there. + How blest the place where oft is heard the voice of praise and prayer. + + Be I but meet for such a place, where angels camp around, + Where truth and duty are proclaimed, and works of love abound. + The poor and friendless there resort and find their wants supplied, + No lack whose trust is in the Lord; for such he will provide. + + There all of every name and race, in need of friendly aid, + Find equal welcome to the board where no distinction's made. + Thus treasures are laid up above, where endless life is given; + They who are rich in works of love, may hope for rest in Heaven. + + + + + Preparation for Heaven. + + + Our every sin must be confessed, + All guile be taken from the breast; + A holy life must we maintain, + If with the Saviour we would reign. + + Be trimmed our lamps, our light appear, + Proclaim we Jesus draweth near; + That mercy's closing hour is nigh, + Will be the angel's last loud cry. + + Now are we drawing near the port, + Decisions soon all made in court, + The scene will close, the Lord will come,-- + And who with him will have a home? + + To self we must be crucified, + Be purified, made white and tried, + Without one spot, and guileless be, + To stand before his Majesty. + + Oh! be our sleeping powers awake; + Eternal bliss is now at stake; + One wrong unrighted, spot or stain, + Will bind in sin's destructive chain. + + Haste then, from every error flee; + Strive till you gain the victory. + Triumph in Jesus' name alone, + And sit with him upon his throne. + + This right with his own blood he bought; + Oh! bliss beyond all human thought, + Where ransomed throngs the Lord adore, + And sing free grace forevermore. + + + + + Submission. + + + The Saviour knows our every grief; + He knows the time to give relief: + When we are purified and tried, + And our whole wills are sanctified. + + How to destroy our dross and tin, + And cleanse us from each stain of sin, + What to inflict, the Lord knows best; + 'Tis only ours to stand the test. + + What though we suffer grief and pain, + And earth's fair prospects strew the plain, + Let us submit, whate'er befall, + And make our God our all in all. + + What though we're wrongfully accused, + Oft times e'en slanderously abused? + Say not these ills we cannot bear, + But in our Saviour's suffering share. + + What he endured no tongue can tell, + When on Him our transgressions fell; + Meekly he bore them on the tree, + And paid the debt for you and me. + + He purchased holiness and Heaven, + Or we could ne'er have been forgiven. + The Saviour's blood redemption cost, + Without which all our race was lost. + + Shall we then sink beneath the rod, + Inflicted by a holy God + To purify and make us white, + That he may be our sole delight? + + No; though it sharply smites, resign, + And pray for grace and love divine; + For all this, Heaven will make amends, + And ofttimes quick deliverance sends. + + The Lord in him would have us free; + Through Him we gain the victory, + All he will be to us we need, + That we a holy life may lead. + + Be holy. Oh! how blest to know, + Our Father helps to make us so; + 'Tis but for us to yield our will, + His word and promise he'll fulfill. + + No guilt or fear, no will, no choice; + In God alone we now rejoice, + And bless the hand that gave the blow, + And laid our earthly comforts low. + + + + + It Was True. + + + I loved th' enchanting viol's sound, + I loved the sprightly dance, + And all the dear, delightful scenes + Of nature's wild romance. + + I know the fascinating charms, + In all their depth and hight, + Presumed on days and months and years + Of exquisite delight. + + Though seventy-six, I feel I still + These halls of mirth could grace; + I left them when in youth[1] and sought + In Christ a hiding place. + + But oh! the bitter cup I drank + That tamed my wild career; + Death struck my parents from my side + And drowned my joy in tears. + + My dear loved home of childhood's years, + Where all was life and glee, + Became a house of mourning, and + Ere long no home for me. + + I've since formed nearer, dearer ties, + And they too, have been riven. + By these repeated strokes I've learned + There's nothing true but Heaven. + + My treasure's there, my heart is there, + The prize I mean to win; + But know the victory must be gained + O'er every darling sin. + + And may refiner's fire go through + Till I am purified; + Till patience is perfected here, + And all my graces tried. + + I'd bear the fiery trial now, + Till holy made and pure, + That I Christ's image may reflect, + And be in him secure. + + A home in Heaven will then be mine, + A house not made with hands; + Where Jesus will his saints receive, + Who walk in his commands. + + Be it mine to walk the narrow way, + Which my Redeemer trod, + And in the City have a place + Close by the throne of God. + + There friends will meet to part no more, + Whose sins are here forgiven. + I would not rest until I know, + I have a home in Heaven. + + +[1]At eighteen. + + + + + No Resting Here. + + + No resting place! oh! sad, oppressive thought! + The overburdened heart opprest with grief, + Must bear its weight o'er sad reflection's tide, + Fearing at last the fate of unbelief. + + Is there one here, without one beam of hope? + Oppressed, desponding, bordering on despair? + Still sinking 'neath gloom's dark and heavy cloud, + Not thinking e'er one cheering boon to share? + + Lie still, e'en here, and search the hidden cause; + O'er every sin has victory been won? + Then trust in God o'er this dark, dreary way, + And say, Dear Lord, thy will, not mine, be done. + + The broken heart, the humble, contrite one, + God will relieve from sin's dark, heavy load; + He will reveal himself a present help, + And make for us a sure and safe abode. + + For such as these a resting place remains, + When earth's dark scenes and trials all are o'er; + A home in Heaven where saints and angels are + Chanting glad songs of glory evermore. + + + + + Deny Thyself. + + + The word we preach is nigh thee, + Is in thy mouth and heart, + To cease from every evil, + From every idol part. + + The last decree, how solemn, + Except we conquer now, + No remedy can reach us, + Nor pay our broken vow. + + While faithless, unrepentant, + We cannot be forgiven, + No mercy will be offered, + No home for us in Heaven. + + As well give up to perish, + If we cannot deny + Our appetites and passions, + While Heavenly aid is nigh. + + Soon there will be no promise + Of pardoning grace, now free. + Ere Jesus ceases pleading, + We must get victory. + + Soon with no mediator + To help our ruined case, + The filthy must be filthy, + Beyond the reach of grace. + + + + + Baptism. + + + We fail not, when watching, our duty to know, + While Jesus makes out all our pathway below. + When he bids be buried with him 'neath the wave, + Let nought keep us back from the watery grave. + + Go forward; these waters are ever the place, + Where Jesus is found with his presence to grace; + While angels make each of its subjects their care, + And the Spirit of God sheds its blessedness there. + + Oh, blest institution! the Lord owns it still, + And moves on his people his word to fulfill; + In newness of life will he help to arise, + While they humbly press on toward the mark for the prize. + + How heavenly the sight of an ordinance like this; + The pledge, it would seem, of perpetual bliss: + God honored below, while his people rejoice, + Making known to the world, they obey him from choice. + + We'll follow the footsteps of Jesus, our King, + Till we the glad songs of deliverance sing. + We'll exalt him while here, we will love and adore, + And with the redeemed sound his praise evermore. + + + + + Despair of the Lost. + + + Of our strength we are shorn by indulgence in sin; + Where Jesus has reigned, now there's no room within; + A host of his murderers dwell in the heart; + Rejected, though grieved, he's obliged to depart. + + As he goes who can know he will ever return? + That the blessing is lost we may soon have to learn, + With a wail of despair, a lamentable cry, + We may soon see ourselves forever passed by. + + Too late! oh, too late! now my soul must be lost; + Though redemption was offered at infinite cost; + Though help has been laid on one mighty to save; + To self and the world I the preference gave. + + Could the hope of salvation be given once more, + Would we not turn our backs on our Lord, as before? + Would not the same spirit still bear the same fruit? + And the Lord still to us our transgressions impute? + + Oh! poor fallen man, rushing on to despair, + With high hopes all anchored in earth's fatal snare, + To be swept away soon, with the refuge of lies, + While the soul in deep anguish the second death dies. + + + + + Depart from Sin. + + + Could the deluded votaries + Of fashion and of song, + But see their danger, they would cry, + We've ventured here too long. + + Yes, ventured o'er a precipice, + Held by a brittle thread, + While "fiery billows roll beneath" + The slippery paths we tread. + + We've ventured to reject the call, + In love and pity given, + To flee sin's awful destiny, + And seek a home in Heaven. + + Could tears prevail, could pity move, + You would not longer stand, + Exposed by every dashing wave + In yon broad gulf to land. + + But tears and pity cannot save, + Nor for one sin atone, + Redemption's purchased with the blood + Of Jesus Christ alone. + + The debt is paid; salvation's free, + Though Jesus' life it cost, + And all who come to him he'll save; + Then why should you be lost? + + Oh! be entreated to forsake + The road that leads to hell, + And thus be fitted for the place + Where saints and angels dwell. + + + + + Old, but Young. + + + Infirmities of age have not + As yet made me their prey; + In social life I sometimes feel + As one still young and gay. + + My spirits buoyant, hopeful, free, + No cloud to intervene, + Till I'm a wonder to myself, + And ask what this can mean. + + Is there a dark and heavy cloud, + Now gathering out of sight, + To come o'er this my cheerful path, + And turn it into night? + + Well, be it so; I'll now enjoy + Life's blessings while I may, + And meet its changes as they come, + The footsteps of decay. + + At seventy-six we might expect + Our life-lights to grow dim, + The slow-paced step and wasted form, + Though once erect and trim. + + 'Tis nature's course; time's withering blight + Will come on all below. + Be ready then for any change + Time bids us undergo. + + Then when this earth is made anew + All clothed in living green, + Where blight, decay, and care-worn brows + Are never to be seen, + + We all shall bloom immortal, fair, + In Eden beauty dressed, + To share all Heaven's eternal joys, + And be forever blessed. + + + + + Passing the Gate. + + Lines on leaving the house of a dear friend where I had + pleasantly spent several weeks. + + + Down deep in the heart is a fountain of tears, + Though seldom it flows to the eye; + 'Tis not that I have not true interest and love, + That I say not the sad words, Good bye. + + The gate must be opened, and opened for me, + For me to go out of the place, + Where I have enjoyed the best bounties of earth, + Where in love face has answered to face. + + As I passed through the gate, language fails to express + My deep-felt emotions of heart; + 'Twas leaving a home where was freedom and rest; + And who else can such favors impart? + + Not that I was homeless; another dear place + Was all ready and waiting me, where + Again I should mingle with children and friends; + But oh! there's life's burden and care. + + 'Tis not that I'd shun them, and useless remain, + That I felt thus while passing the gate; + But feelings which beckon to higher results, + Thoughts I may not attempt to relate. + + When fortune's wheel turns, will the gate opened be, + Be opened for me to come through? + Shall I find the same friends and the dear quiet room, + And my former engagements pursue? + + To Him who controls all the myriad worlds, + With Him would I leave each event; + I would move in his order, and walk in his light, + And know that my time is well spent. + + Then whether I ever that gate pass, or not, + Those loved ones again ever see, + The gates of the City will open for all + Who its glories and beauties would see. + + + + + Trust all to God. + + + We wait on God, our strength renewed, + Our love of self and pride subdued, + We then can cruel slander bear, + Nor ask why we these sufferings share. + + We may exalted be by men, + Be censured and condemned; what then? + Our worth is in the Lord alone, + To whom our thoughts and acts are known. + + That I am God, know and be still, + Though wrongfully you're suffering ill. + How many sins committed where + No eye has seen, yet still I spare. + + Be humble, meek, and low of heart, + Nor from my holy law depart. + Thus will your strength be oft renewed, + And you with holy zeal imbued. + + In that dread day you then can stand, + Where rocks are rent, and solid land + And mountains shake, and cities fall; + I'll be your strength, your God, your all. + + From earth's dread ruins you'll be caught, + To God's celestial city brought, + Robed in a pure and spotless dress, + The robe of Christ's own righteousness. + + Then every stain will be erased + From reputations now defaced; + And where was anguish, grief and tears, + Now smiles and bliss and joy appears. + + To be forever with the Lord, + To share the infinite reward, + To sit with him upon his throne, + To see and know as we are known. + + In everlasting songs divine, + In sweetest union all will join. + Who can describe the bliss there'll be, + When blessed with immortality? + + + + + The Vanity of Earth. + + + Sickness prostrates; helpless sufferer, + Who can stem the sorrowing tide? + Oh! how vain, when death approacheth, + Earthly pleasures, wealth and pride. + + Though your name may be illustrious, + Handed down through ages yet, + Worldly honor and distinction, + We shall all ere long forget. + + Weeping friends may stand around you, + Flattering prospects urge your stay; + But compelled by the destroyer, + To be launched from earth away. + + Past reflections, oh! how painful, + If not answered life's great end; + Time all spent in vain delusion, + Now no hope, no God, no friend. + + Who can paint the bitter anguish, + Felt at such a time as this; + Soon to leave those cherished idols, + Purchased with unending bliss. + + Though we gain the world, what profit, + If we lose our souls at last? + Buy the gold, the shining raiment, + Ere the day of grace is past. + + + + + Dying Words. + + + There was one who to me was most lovely and dear; + I looked, and that loved one I saw disappear; + My dear, only daughter, who in life's early years, + Has gone to the grave, and has left me in tears. + + The words of her parting, were, Jesus is mine; + He'll save, and I shall in his own likeness shine. + To God be all glory; Heaven's opened to me; + I shall rise with the saints, and immortal shall be. + + My brothers, be wise and obey Heaven's laws; + Seek the Saviour to please and to honor his cause; + Rest not till you know all your sins are forgiven, + Oh! fail not, my brothers, to meet me in Heaven. + + My mother, be ready to meet me that day, + Nor mourn that here with you no longer I stay. + Prepare for the trouble that soon is to come-- + Who then will enjoy his own loved quiet home? + + I die in the Lord, from my labors to rest + With the dead, of whom it is said, "They are blest." + For me bid farewell to the loved and the true, + May we meet where is heard no mournful adieu. + + My mother, I'm dying, but Jesus is here; + With him I have nothing of evil to fear. + Thus peaceful she died, but still lingered the trace + Of the image divine on her cold pallid face. + + In the lone, quiet tomb where she's longed to repose, + She rests from life's cares, from its "burden of woes," + Beside her loved father, to memory dear-- + O'er the graves of these loved, I withhold not the tear. + + + + + The Slave of Appetite. + + + What stings of conscience men will bear, + Their tastes to gratify; + Resolve and re-resolve, and still + Themselves cannot deny. + + They say, "I'd give a thousand worlds + Could I the victory gain." + Your cause is just, to conquer here, + And all your rights maintain. + + "What use," you ask, "to say I will, + And almost know I shan't; + I've tried, and tried, and tried again, + To quit, but oh! I can't." + + Well, be it so; your course pursue, + But what will be the end? + Your conscience soon will be so seared, + You'll want no other friend. + + Chief of the comforts you enjoy, + What comfort now you take. + When you're deprived of these, how sad, + Gloomy and desolate. + + Why thus? Your nerves are all unstrung; + You're almost ruined now. + Does patience have her perfect work, + While thus you break each vow? + + When worn with toil, how soon you seek + Your coffee, rum, or tea; + When trouble comes, these are your gods, + To which for help you flee. + + Another, all his senses gone, + When giving up his quid, + In irritation mourns his lot, + From him all good seems hid. + + The poisonous weed, the deadly drink + Are eagerly pursued; + So are they loved, men hardly wish + Their appetites subdued. + + The exhilarating influence + When loved, who will forego? + The sad effects of these produce + The sum of human woe. + + Not we alone the sufferers are; + Our friends must bear a part; + The animation felt by us + With them is a broken heart. + + An oft untimely grave the lot, + Of those thus overcome; + What desolation then is felt, + In their once peaceful home? + + Ere vigor, health, and life are gone, + Rouse every latent power; + The victory gained, again you're blest, + Within your own loved bower. + + Heed not the tempter when he comes, + And pleads once more to yield; + Have you not fully yet resolved, + To shun this battle-field? + + Why risk the victory you have gained? + Your resolution lost + This once might prove your ruin here, + And life eternal cost. + + Try once again, while there is hope + To conquer and to live; + God will, if you will let him, help, + And all the past forgive. + + He'll help to get the victory; + And victory must be gained, + Or no resolve to break the hold, + Will ever be maintained. + + Not victory for a single day, + A week, a month, a year; + But victory that will stand the test + While we continue here. + + A victory that will overcome + Inordinate desire, + To gratify perverted taste, + By habit made entire. + + The conflict rages fiercely on; + Here victory, then defeat; + But faint not, you can overcome, + And make your foes retreat. + + An armor for us is prepared, + A helmet, sword and shield, + And He who mighty is to save, + Is with us on the field. + + Experience can alone impart + The joy of sins forgiven, + Freedom in God while here below, + And soon a home in Heaven. + + + + + All Trials Cease. + +[A young lady passing through great trials, accidentally met with a piece +of poetry, and was greatly comforted and relieved from her sorrow by the +last line, "All trials cease in Heaven, at home with God."] + + + Are we assured our home's in Heaven? + That all our sins are now forgiven? + Do we with all the heart believe, + And God's approving smile receive? + + Is every weight now laid aside? + The last besetting sin denied? + God then to us this knowledge gives: + "I know that my Redeemer lives." + + This consciousness must purify, + And bring eternal glories nigh. + Though here we bear affliction's rod, + No tears "in Heaven, at home with God." + + No suffering there; "all trials cease, + In Heaven at home with God," is peace. + Yea, more than this, all there unite, + In sweetest anthems of delight. + + There will they hallelujahs sing, + In honor of their Heavenly King; + Forever there, their voices raise, + In songs seraphic to his praise. + + This glory Jesus' word reveals; + Each promise with his blood he seals. + We're sure, if here to him we come, + To be in Heaven with God at home. + + + + + To Ellena Boutwell. + + + And is there another dear loved one for me? + May a strong cord of union now bind me to thee? + Would you call me your mother? Permit in return, + That I call thee my child, and your history learn. + + Pleased with your demeanor, and turn of your mind, + With attractions I seem to see in thee combined; + But few would take interest in one of my age, + Though he might be an artist, a bard or a sage. + + Though past man's alloted threescore and ten years, + Though I've passed through afflictions, in sorrow and tears, + In feeling still young, and in sympathy true, + I would have the world better for my passing through. + + I'm glad I have seen you; I've one more to love, + On whom to ask blessings that come from above. + This friendship new-formed--may it ever increase, + And we find in Jesus true heavenly peace. + + + + + To Aaron A. Smith, + + On his leaving to join the Army. + + + For one who can fill such a place in the choir, + Whose musical talents none can but admire, + Who is loved and looked up to as teacher and guide, + To leave for the war, will be felt far and wide. + + But it is not, dear nephew, for earth's vain delight, + That you leave home and friends for your country to fight; + It is for the Union--our rights to maintain-- + That you go where the strife piles its thousands of slain. + + Good bye! God protect you; on his arm rely, + There is safety for no one except from on high. + We are safe only while we in Jesus abide; + He's our rule, he's our pattern, our only sure guide. + + Be careful to follow where he leads the way; + Let nothing entice from his footsteps to stray. + May he keep you from falling and lead you safe through + To the home and the friends you are bidding adieu. + + + + + To Samuel. + + + Good morning, you said, as you left for your bride, + For the one in whom you so truly confide. + Good morning, my son, Heaven's blessings attend, + As you take a companion, a dear, chosen friend. + + I'm happy in thinking you'll bring home a wife + To take the direction in things of this life, + May her interest and aim be all one with us here, + And she be to mother a daughter most dear. + + The sister, the daughter, and wife, all combine; + The home of her childhood she too must resign. + Though former companions may not be forgot, + New duties, new trials will fall to her lot. + + Be true and affectionate, always the same; + One in heart as you now are to be one in name, + Wherever she is, be it your joy to come; + While each can say truly, "There's no place like home." + + You've doubtless informed her you intended your mother + Would have a home with you, and also your brother, + That she unexpectedly might not find these, + To add to her household, to care for and please. + + You've been an affectionate, dutiful son; + Everything in your power, for my comfort you've done; + You've said this attention you owed me through life-- + Oh! I'd be a rich blessing to your and your wife. + + Should I be a burden still greater to bear, + The daughter and wife in the trial must share. + Think then of my age, over seventy years, + And bear with me though I cause sorrow and tears. + + Though fretful, impatient, not suited at all, + And you think it best not to mind every call, + Remember past seasons, my kindness, and know + I would have you as blest as one could be below. + + And in the new earth when all trials are o'er, + I would be with you there to have life evermore. + An unbroken band may we all there appear, + The father, the mother, the children so dear. + + We should there know each other, and all we've been through, + While Annie would greet her dear brothers anew + And Harriet and Frances[2] would help swell the song, + Of Heaven's free grace, with the numerous throng. + + + My dearest Samuel, through life's scenes + I'd thought to live with thee, + But providentially a change, + Has taken you from me; + Dear child you need not fear for me. + + Those kind words, "Mother, live with me," + As then are now the same; + Unshaken is my confidence, + That you are just the same, + To-day, the very, very same. + + Oh! how my heart goes after thee, + My dear, loved, cherished son, + Your father's name and image bear, + As does no other one; + I see the once-loved in my son. + + I see thee oft in fancy's view, + And love to see thee so; + I'm happy that to your new home, + I'm wholly free to go; + My son to your home I can go. + + It is my choice; I would be here, + I love to be alone, + I love this quiet solitude, + I love the wild wind's moan; + My child, I would be here alone. + + Yet not alone, another son + Is with me all the while. + Though frail in health, he cares for me, + And greets me with a smile; + He does my lonely hours beguile. + + Another too, though far away, + Away now at the West-- + With three kind sons to care for me, + Most signally I'm blest; + Be Heaven our place of final rest. + + The husband and the daughter sleep; + Thus friends are parted here, + But they in joy will live again, + When Jesus shall appear, + To dry each Christian mourner's tear. + + _February, 1865._ + + +[2]Daughters-in-law. + + + + + Lines + + Written on the death of Annie R. Smith. + + + Let Annie sleep; her rest is with the dead; + All sorrow past, her last sad tear is shed; + Why call to mind the sufferings here she bore, + When now with her they are forever o'er? + + Why ope the wound--that wound so deeply given, + When from the parent tree this branch was riven? + Oh! spare thy tears, wake not the fount of grief; + No human power can aid or give relief. + + She died in hope of living evermore + With those she loved, when Time's last scene is o'er. + When Jesus comes, we trust there'll be a place + Prepared for her with all the ransomed race. + + Shall we then see her in immortal bloom, + Risen triumphant from the silent tomb? + Shall we there meet her all in bright array, + And spend in Heaven with her an endless day? + + Shall we behold the glorious city fair, + And by the King of kings be welcomed there? + To eat with her the fruit of earth made new, + And give to Jesus praise and glory due? + + Oh, 'tis enough! Let earthly sorrow cease, + While Jesus says in him we shall have peace. + That God in us may his designs fulfill, + We'll meekly suffer all his holy will. + + + + + To My Mother. + + BY ANNIE R. SMITH. + + + My lot has been to roam + Far from the cheering light of home, + Mid scenes of commotion, turmoil and strife, + Temptation and snares that beset this life. + Oh! yonder I see a beacon light gleaming, + O'er the dark wave its lustre is beaming, + Dear mother! as the light to the mariner lost, + So thou to the bark on the billow tossed. + + My lot has been to meet + The bitter mixed with transient sweet; + To struggle on, in toil and care, + The tide of adverse fate to bear. + Oh! yonder I see a tender vine, twining + Around a tree, its tendrils are shining; + Dear mother! as the vine twines around the tree, + So from life's rude blasts I cling to thee. + + My lot has been to feel + Dark shadows o'er my spirit steal; + From slanderous tongues, and envy's wiles, + Deceit that lurked 'neath wreathing smiles. + Oh! yonder I see the floweret's hue; + Reviving 'neath the pearly dew. + Dear mother! as the dew to the drooping flower, + So thou to me in sorrow's dark hour. + + My lot has been to learn + Of friendship false, that bright will burn + When fortune spreads her wing of light, + But fades away when cometh night. + Oh! yonder I see a bright star sparkling, + While all around lies cold and darkling. + Dear mother! as the star thou art in weal or wo, + The darker the night, the brighter the glow. + + My lot has been to pore + Learning's classic pages o'er; + Seeking for hidden pearls to wear, + Fame's golden wreath, the victors bear. + Oh! yonder I see a lone bird flying, + Seeking her nest with voice of sighing. + Dear mother! as the wearied bird her downy nest, + So seek I thee, for quiet rest. + + My lot is now to tread + A troubled path whence light hath fled; + But ne'er do I thy words forget, + Or smiles of love from thee I've met. + I think of thee in morning's beaming light, + In burning noon and shadowy night. + Dear mother! mid all my thoughtless wanderings wild, + Still clings to thee thy devoted child. + + Whate'er my future lot may be, + On life's tempestuous trackless sea, + Oh, may I never, where'er I roam, + Forget the cheering light of home, + That blessed light to the wanderer given, + To guide the way that leads to Heaven. + Dear mother! to thee may I cling till life is o'er, + And united above--we part nevermore. + + + + + Response. + + +Dear Annie: + + What though thy lot has been to bear + Much adverse fate, 'mid toil and care, + Raised expectations crushed and dead, + And hope's triumphant visions fled? + + Dost thou not feel a mightier power, + A hand divine in this dark hour? + Does not thy heart begin to feel + The claims of Him who wounds to heal? + + 'Tis true, my child, misfortune's blast + But breaks the rock whence gems are cast; + The polished steel and marble white, + Was once as rough and dark as night. + + As purest gold and clearest glass + Must through the hottest furnace pass, + So oft repeated strokes are given, + To form and fit a soul for Heaven. + + What though you've learned of envy's wiles, + The slanderous tongue, which oft beguiles? + The sweetest fruit on bush and trees, + Is culled and plucked by birds and bees. + + Although you've traced the landscape fair, + And sought for knowledge rich and rare, + Gone to the depth of hidden ore, + That richest mine you might explore, + + Lines "To my Mother," more I prize + Than all the paintings 'neath the skies; + And they will ever bring to me, + Dear child, sweet memories of thee. + + Although I prize the painter's art, + Yet more th' effusions of the heart; + Kind feelings, sympathy and love, + All arts and wealth I prize above. + + Since then these trials but refine, + Bring out deep caverns' hidden mine, + Resign all to that power on high, + Till sufferings cease and sorrows die. + + + + + Lines + + To a mother whose son enlisted in the army. + + + For a mother to part, for the war, with a son, + Whose kindness and love her affections have won, + Cannot but excite deep emotions of grief, + And in tears the torn bosom will seek for relief. + + Commend, in submission, this loved son to Heaven, + And thank Him who gave, that to you he was given; + That he leaves here a circle of associates dear, + Who his memory and name will delight to revere. + + In the family circle his place will be missed, + And some may regret that he felt to enlist, + While others look forward, still hoping to see + Him back in the choir, where his place used to be. + + If God has a work for him still here to do, + His eye will be on him to bring him safe through. + He will suffer no harm to befall him while there; + As a man spares his own son, so God will him spare. + + But nought of the future to us is revealed; + His destiny and ours is most wisely concealed; + 'Tis for us to submit; be our lot what it may, + And all the requirements of Heaven obey. + + + + + Lines + + Read at a gathering of the oldest people of Wilton, at + Miss Sarah Livermore's, November, 1870. + + + Now far advanced in life we're here, + To visit one long held most dear; + Though we have all been young and gay, + Time's rolling years have worked decay. + + Though lingering here on earth's broad shore, + Life's journey must be nearly o'er; + And may this friendly, gathering call, + A blessing prove to one and all. + + Convened here, then, be this our aim, + To make each other glad we came; + In union these rich blessings share, + And say, 'Twas good that we were there. + + Refreshed, we'd patiently pursue + This last part of our journey through. + On those who entertain these guests, + Would ask that they be doubly blest. + + We would not fail while here to see + All we're required to do and be. + Would advocate and teach the right, + Still hastening toward perfection's hight. + + Earth's pleasures then will be increased + By this delightful, social feast, + And we prepared to meet in Heaven, + Where joys eternal will be given. + + + + + Lines + + On the death of my husband, Samuel Smith. + + + Gone is my husband, no more shall I see + That kind look of love as he smiled upon me. + I cherished and loved him; and who can tell + My anguish while on his departure I dwell? + Long I have been with him, in sickness and health, + Shared in his losses, and enjoyed with him wealth; + He lives in my memory, lives in my heart, + His virtues are printed there, ne'er to depart. + + Fast were we joined by the tenderest ties, + And lonely I mourn o'er the grave where he lies. + I hear not his steps, but the lone place I see, + Where oft his kind words have been spoken to me. + I miss him while gather the shadows of night; + I miss him when dawns the fair morning light. + I miss him--but where are the words to express + The depth of my grief in such loneliness. + + I smile when I'm sad, and seem joyful in grief; + When alone bitter tears are my only relief; + Bruised now is the heart by the blow that has come, + Dark now the dear spot, once so bright as my home. + Though wealth were my portion, and splendor surround, + More empty 'twould seem while the loved was not found. + With him I'd be blest, though earth's treasures were few, + And trouble should prove my affection more true. + + Oft I imagine each member is here, + Those pledges of love and affection so dear, + I view the loved circle, but ah! there's a space-- + 'Tis vacant, and nought can to me fill the place. + But those left behind, his dear image reveal, + Who only affection and sympathy feel; + Their kindness I know, the returns of their love, + And ask for them blessings that come from above. + + But he's gone to the grave, where, free from all care, + He knows not the grief which for him I now bear. + There rest till our Saviour shall bid thee arise; + Then may we immortal ascend to the skies. + With this hope I can triumph o'er earth's deepest gloom, + The dearest and loveliest can yield to the tomb; + When bowed in submission, my Saviour appears, + Bids me trust in his word, and refrain from my tears. + + + + + Look Up. + + + Lone Pilgrim, cease that mournful sigh-- + Look up! redemption draweth nigh. + Have loved ones gone, does earth look drear? + Look up! shed not that bitter tear. + + What though the heart is saddened now, + And shadows gather on thy brow, + And grief the bosom heaving still-- + Look up! submit to Heaven's own will. + + Do trials, unexpected, rise? + Look up! and view the glorious prize; + Let not life's sorrows press you down-- + Look up! prepare to take the crown. + + Lift up your head, rejoice and sing-- + Look up! by faith behold your King. + He soon is coming, heed his call-- + Look up! and make your God your all. + + He'll come, all troubles here to end, + He'll come, a never-failing friend, + He'll come to take his children home-- + Look up! and pray, Lord, quickly come. + + + + + Overcoming Sin. + + + How fiercely does the conflict rage within, + While striving to subdue some cherished sin; + What shall be done? The idol is most dear, + And often is the victim vanquished here. + + Though trivial it may seem, sin's poisonous dart + Will sting the conscience and will wound the heart, + Destroy the peace and condemnation bring, + And drive us from the shelter of His wing. + + In view of this, who dare a sin commit? + Our cherished idols we must all submit; + As one small leak the largest ship will sink, + So one dear sin, will lead to ruin's brink. + + While love for sin in any form remains, + Though not committed, we are still in chains; + Sins must be broken off by righteousness, + And then will God deliver, own and bless. + + No condemnation then--all peace within, + Untrammeled freedom from the love of sin; + Oh! blessed freedom! nought can then control + The heavenward flight and rapture of the soul. + + + + + Will You be a Pilgrim? + + + Will you come in with the pilgrims, though a remnant they may be, + And know the blessed privilege of gospel liberty? + Will you take the name of Christ, and be redeemed by sovereign grace, + And find in him from every storm a sure, safe hiding-place? + + Will you part with earth's delusive joys, with all its vain delights, + And "bear the consecrated cross," to have the Christian's rights? + They have a right to call on God; and he's vouchsafed his aid. + The ancients said, We'll trust in thee, nor ever be dismayed. + + They said, 'Tis nothing, Lord, with thee, with many or with few, + To put a mighty host to flight, and all our foes subdue. + Will you go against the multitude, in his own strength and name? + He fought their battles and he's still unchangeably the same. + + Their hope's an anchor to the soul, both sure and steadfast too, + And buoys their spirits up in all the conflicts they go through. + Will you have this hope to cheer you, to an unfading crown-- + A crown that far outshines this world, with all its grand renown? + + They've no abiding city here, but look for one to come, + A glorious city all illumed, to be their final home. + Oh! will you suffer sorrow here, and have a home in Heaven, + A kingdom that will shortly be, to all the faithful given? + + + + + Home for the Weary. + + + If there's rest for the weary, a home for the meek, + Hope for the trembling and strength for the weak, + Take courage, worn pilgrim, nor sink in despair, + While braving the storms that but hasten us there. + + The waves and the billows will over us go, + And waters most bitter will oft overflow. + Our hearts with fierce conflicts and anguish be riven, + But hope to the end; there's salvation in Heaven. + + Oh, who will endure the last searching test, + With Abrah'm and Isaac and Jacob be blest + In the kingdom of God? and who will be lost, + To find when too late, what earth's pleasures have cost? + + Shall we cling, then, to what Christ would have us give up? + Oh, no! grieve him not, and he with us will sup. + He'll shelter us here in the last coming strife, + And give us to drink of the water of life. + + How blest to be ready and waiting to hear + The last trumpet sound, and see Jesus appear! + Such then will rejoice that redemption has come, + Be changed to his image, and received to their home. + + + + + The Enemy's Power. + + Rev. xii, 12. + + + As Satan has in wrath come down, + To bring us 'neath our Maker's frown, + We must resist his course. + He'll bring beneath his dread control + The doubting, disobedient soul, + By his satanic force. + + Where least expected his attack, + To lead us to perdition back, + And claim us as his own. + Alarming are his wily arts, + Most fearful, too, his fiery darts, + When undiscovered thrown. + + Armed and equipped we must be sure, + His fierce temptations to endure, + His fatal snares to meet. + 'Tis easy going with the tide; + In Jesus Christ we must abide, + And be in him complete. + + There's no true consolation here, + But to be holy in our sphere, + From condemnation free. + When all our foes within are slain, + The tempter then comes but in vain, + With Heaven he'll ne'er agree. + + The humble, merciful and just, + In God who wholly put their trust, + Shall find protection sure. + Their fortress, shield and firm defense, + Is naught less than Omnipotence, + With strength given to endure. + + Those who in God securely stand, + When thousands fall at their right hand, + No plague will them come nigh; + They're safe 'neath Heaven's sheltering wings, + 'Mid crash of worlds, all earthly things, + Which will in ruin lie. + + Thus guarded here, when all is o'er, + They'll be with those who die no more, + Forever safe in Heaven, + Where all is union, peace and love, + Made welcome to the courts above, + Where life eternal's given. + + But we are here on dangerous ground; + Some will be weighed and wanting found, + Will from the truth depart, + Will false, delusive spirits heed, + And pride and arrogance will feed, + And harden still the heart. + + When self, that mighty foe, prevails + To conquer, every effort fails; + Self will be gratified, + E'en at the expense of present peace, + Till conscience' warning voice will cease, + And self feel justified. + + And some, in view of being lost, + Will self indulge, whate'er the cost, + Nor think to be forgiven. + Their dearest idol bears such sway, + So loved, their practice does but say, + If one must go, 'tis Heaven. + + A course deliberate thus pursued, + Instead of having self subdued, + Eternal life they'll lose. + They'll bear the burden of their guilt, + For which the blood of Christ was spilt, + And go the way they choose. + + Justice will utter, Let them go, + They've proved their final overthrow-- + Their day of grace is past. + May those who're not yet given o'er, + Repent, ere closed is mercy's door, + And thus be saved at last. + + + + + Sustaining Grace. + + + Homeless was my blessed Saviour, + Patient, too, mid all his grief; + Why be downcast, sad, desponding, + When he'll freely give relief? + + Oh, 'tis not that I am homeless, + Nor that I am suffering pain; + But my Saviour seems hid from me, + And my hope does not sustain. + + I would daily have the witness, + That my dear Redeemer lives; + That he's interceding for me, + And my every blessing gives. + + Live then for this blest approval, + Not one sin allow a place; + God commands us to be holy, + While we run the Christian race. + + He is holy who hath called you; + So be ye, in word and deed; + To enjoy the Saviour's presence, + We must to our ways take heed. + + None can have this full salvation, + While to one known sin a slave; + Jesus came to free and pardon, + And from sin his people save. + + Fearless then go forth to battle, + Conquering sin through Christ the Lord; + He'll assist while we're obedient + To the teachings of his word. + + Glorious conquests have been witnessed; + God for ever is the same; + We may all be strong and mighty, + Through his great and holy name. + + + + + Go Forward. + + + Stay not halting, be decided! + With God's people take your place, + They who seek a home in Heaven + All must run the Christian race. + + Though the Red Sea is before you, + And the Egyptians in the rear, + Venture forward, no retreating, + Linger not a moment here. + + If you go, you can but perish; + Onward move where God can save. + Hasten ere you're with the wicked, + Sinking 'neath the swelling wave. + + God here meets his trusting people, + Makes a passage through the deep, + He'll display his power in saving + Those who his commandments keep. + + + + + Why Art Thou Cast Down? + + + Why this dark depth of grief and gloom, this anguish and despair? + The unpardonable sin you mourn, is not yet yours to bear. + Why thus disquieted, cast down? Hope thou in God; he'll give + The very blessing you most need; look up to him and live. + + This crushing weight of heartfelt grief, this flow of sorrow's tide, + Will ere long bring the sad report, Of broken heart he died. + God knows what has befallen you, knows why the sore event; + Wait until he shall show you why this bitter cup was sent. + + Be at your post, where'er it be; the claims of life fulfill. + Be no one act or motive wrong; heed Heaven's own bidding still. + Then let the hail sweep o'er your path, let storms in fury rise, + God will in safety bring you through to mansions in the skies. + + He's at the helm, he'll guide the ship through every dangerous strait, + And make you welcome when within the holy city's gate. + No bitter scenes of heartfelt grief, though now with anguish riven, + Will meet you in that world of bliss, the holy calm of Heaven. + + + + + Trust. + + + My cause is with my blessed Lord, he does my footsteps guide; + He's led me in an unknown way, and laid my plans aside; + He's hedged up all my well-laid schemes, or what seemed so to me, + And oh! what wisdom I behold, now his designs I see. + + I'll glory in his holy name, and pray, Lord guide me still; + In each event submission learn, and sink into his will. + His will is welcome, tho' it lay each earthly prospect low; + God is too wise to err, and will what's best for us bestow. + + The Psalmist made his boast in God, and we may do the same; + The word exhorts to cry aloud, and praise his holy name. + Should those here hold their peace, whom God has his own Spirit given, + Where could he look for honor due, and whom make meet for Heaven? + + Regardless of the world's cold frown, we would march boldly on, + Nor right nor left would turn, but go where our dear Saviour's gone, + There's mansions there, and Jesus will prepare his saints a place, + Where they will never cease to sing of his redeeming grace. + + Are we expecting to be there, and share each proffered bliss? + The Father's love is not in those who love a world like this. + Then tarry not in all the plain; seek high and holy ground, + Lest in the balance when we're weighed, we should be wanting found. + + + + + "Brother, Live!" + + + When dark misfortune's tide is up, + Its surges running high, + If we have lost our hold on God, + Where then for refuge fly? + + Oppressed, desponding, near despair, + Health, strength and courage fled, + These cheering words heed, "_Brother, live!_" + And raise your sinking head. + + Though anguish deep, and bitter grief + Be felt and long be borne, + Abide the test; seek no relief + That's not from Heaven alone. + + Deliverance must be found in God, + A blessing to secure; + There is encouragement for those + Who trials well endure. + + In tribulation's beaten path, + The ancient prophets trod; + It is the only way that brings + The wanderer home to God. + + Let patience have its perfect work, + Be purified and tried; + Be ready when the King shall come, + To e'er with him abide. + + + + + Condense. + + + The article which now you think + So perfect and complete, + Would doubtless be, if half as long, + For printing twice as meet. + + Once and again your thoughts condense, + Then what remains improve; + For matter must be weighty now, + The minds of men to move. + + No preface does your piece demand, + No introduction needs; + Select the wheat, but cast aside + The straw, and chaff, and weeds. + + How many worse than wasted hours + Are spent foul works to read, + Fictions which poison heart and mind, + And basest passions feed. + + Search for some richer gems than these, + Ideas new and rare; + Soon will you learn the good to save, + The valueless to spare. + + With heart and mind thus disciplined, + And quickened every sense, + Let these three rules your pen control-- + Condense, condense, condense. + + + + + "The Bond of Peace." + + + When love unites the saints + There'll be no sad complaints + Against each other; + No bitter root will spring, + A wrong report to bring + Against a brother. + + Each will delight to see + Sweet peace and harmony, + And long for more; + God's love the heart will fill, + And selfish motives kill, + As ne'er before. + + In union there'll be strength, + Through all the breadth and length + Of this grand host; + Armed for the battle-field, + No point of truth they'll yield, + Firm at their post. + + And when the battle's o'er, + They're safe forevermore, + With Christ their King; + Through him they gain their crown, + And lay their weapons down, + And victory sing. + + + + + Christian Submission. + + + The Lord is mine, his will my choice; + I'm his to suffer or rejoice, + While here on earth I stay. + I know in whom I have believed; + He has my sacrifice received, + And will direct my way. + + Whate'er he calls me here to do, + He'll give me grace and help me through; + He'll lead and guide me home. + He's promised to be with me here, + And said to me, "Be of good cheer, + The world I've overcome." + + Let friends deride, let scoffers rage, + Let hell against my soul engage; + No one of them I fear. + My Lord has conquered all my foes, + In vain they rage, or me oppose, + While my Deliverer's near. + + Myself, my all, to God I give, + And to his glory would I live, + From sin's dominion freed. + I'll trust him though he hides his face. + Sufficient for me is his grace, + In every time of need. + + He's coming, whom we have desired, + In all his saints to be admired; + Even so, Lord Jesus, come. + Come, in thine own appointed way; + We'd wait in patience to that day, + When thou shalt call us home. + + + + + Who is Without Fault? + + + Is there one here, who, e'er thus far, + Has blameless been preserved? + Who never strayed, made one mistake, + Or e'er from duty swerved? + + There may have been no outward act + To cause one pang of grief; + But has there been no secret fault, + No sin of unbelief? + + Then judge not harshly; who can tell + Thy brother's suffering now, + That he has failed in any point, + To pay the Lord his vow? + + From secret faults, the Psalmist prayed, + Dear Lord, oh! cleanse thou me, + And from presumptuous sins keep back, + Preserve and make me free. + + Left to himself, how great his fall! + And he himself the guide. + How humbled, mortified, subdued, + His vanity and pride! + + We are left to sin, to punish sin, + No consolation here; + Reflection only swells the tide + Of anguish sad and drear. + + Our falls oft cause a bitter grief, + That no redemption knows; + The deep, the painful, bleeding wound, + Time here can never close. + + The die when cast, the ship when sunk, + To light can never rise. + Our good name lost--and all on board, + Then goes in sad surprise. + + Oh! what a vacancy then made, + An empty, aching void; + Our peace of mind in silence crushed, + And hope's bright boon destroyed. + + But there is pardon with our God, + For crimes of deepest dye; + Be self and pride then humbled low, + In dust and ashes lie. + + It should be there, and God will see + Those whom he loves refined. + He'll keep them in the crucible + Till they his statutes mind. + + He'll watch the furnace and will see + The gold sustains no loss. + Oh! be the faithful process borne, + And all consumed the dross. + + God must in us his image see, + And we reflect the same. + Oh! may we honor and adore, + And glorify his name. + + + + + Overcome and Live. + + + Confess your faults, and for each other pray; + The slanderous tongue, oh! be it far away; + That tameless thing which sets the world on fire, + And rouses all the angry passion's ire. + + Where this is god, our God can ne'er abide, + Nor where there's lightness, selfishness, or pride; + His dwelling's with the meek and low of heart, + And for himself he'll set all these apart. + + Who would not thus be honored of the Lord, + And have from him a large and rich reward? + Who would not be with saints and angels blest, + And have in Heaven at last eternal rest? + + Live for it, then; all God's commandments keep, + Although the way be through afflictions deep. + Cast all your care on Him who cares for you, + And he will lead and guide you safely through. + + And when you reach fair Canaan's blissful shore, + When sin and suffering are forever o'er, + You'll find the city glorious to behold, + Christ is its light, its streets all paved with gold. + + You'll by the King of kings be welcomed there, + Where tuned to praise is every sigh and prayer. + No blight to mar, no tear to dim the sight; + And to the tree of life you'll have a right. + + You'll meet dear loved ones long since fallen asleep, + All deathless raised from their lone caverns deep; + Together there you'll sing, We're saved by grace, + And brought by Jesus to this glorious place. + + No farewell parting, no sad word adieu, + Your home forever in the earth made new. + Oh! bliss which mortal tongue can ne'er express, + To be with Jesus, robed in righteousness. + + Glory and honor will to Him be given, + Who's purchased for us peace and rest in Heaven, + Who bore our sins, and by whose stripes we're healed. + And to eternal life and glory sealed. + + With glory, hallelujah, Heaven will ring, + In honor to the Lord our sovereign King. + Each will his note the highest strive to raise, + To give to Jesus, honor, glory, praise. + + + + + The Last Message of Mercy. + + + Angel of mercy art thou here + And hovering o'er us now? + Oh! may we all before our God, + In adoration bow. + + To heed the message, or reject, + The world will soon decide. + While some in love receive the truth, + More will its claims deride; + + Why will they slight the offered boon? + Though we their lot deplore, + They place themselves beyond the reach + Of mercy's lingering store. + + Too late! their dreadful doom now sealed, + Too late! will be their cry; + We might have lived, but now, alas! + The second death must die. + + The Spirit and the bride say come, + Let naught obstruct the way; + But hasten God's commands to keep, + And all his will obey. + + Oh! be entreated while there's hope, + To heed the message given; + That with the ransomed you may find + A place of rest in Heaven. + + + + + We Love. + + + We love; for Jesus loves, + We love his image here. + We love to meet, we love to pray, + And hold each other dear. + + We know it's of the Lord, + Or we could not unite + With those ne'er seen before + In bonds of sweet delight. + + By this shall all men know, + One family we are. + Oh! could they know our joys, + And with us in them share! + + There's hope, we know there's hope, + That mercy lingers yet, + Or we should cease to feel, + Their miseries forget. + + We'll feel as Jesus feels; + We'll love and pity too; + We'll weep, we'll pray, we'll plead, + And tell them it's for you. + + This love we'll not give o'er + Though we endure their hate. + 'Twill urge, Oh! come to Christ + Ere it shall be too late. + + 'Twill bring us at their feet + In attitude of prayer, + 'Twill cry, O Lord, forgive, + And these yet longer spare. + + He says, I hear your prayer, + I'll save if they will come, + Oh! then to God return, + And have in Heaven a home. + + + + + Have Mercy on Yourselves. + + + Have mercy, Lord, we often pray, + And lead us in the narrow way, + While we ourselves refuse to go + Where God can lead or mercy show. + + Have mercy on yourselves. Beware + Lest you are caught in Satan's snare, + Or wandering far on worldly ground, + Are in its deadening spirit drowned. + + Have mercy on yourselves. Take heed, + That no perverted taste you feed; + That neither word nor act degrade + The vows and promises you've made. + + True, in ourselves we helpless are + To help ourselves. Lord help, 's our prayer, + Poor, wretched, miserable and blind, + In thee all needed help we find. + + Be this our motto, then: We'll try + To help ourselves; while God is nigh; + And he in every trying hour + Will aid us with his sovereign power. + + + + + The Advent. + + + Those who've heard the proclamation + Of a coming Saviour near, + Will behold him in great splendor, + When in clouds he shall appear. + + He will come; this generation + Will not pass till all is o'er. + Signs foretell he's now approaching, + And is even at the door. + + Oh! what scenes will burst upon us, + When the heavens and earth shall shake, + When the trump of God is sounding, + And the dead in Christ awake! + + Saints now living, made immortal, + With the risen from the dead, + All arrayed in robes of honor, + With their Saviour at their head. + + Freed from sin and every sorrow, + Ever to be with their Lord, + And for all they've suffered for him, + Meet a rich and sure reward. + + But where will the thoughtless sinner + Find a secret place to hide, + From the wrath of him who loved us, + And for us was crucified? + + Rocks and mountains cannot hide them, + Caves and dens are sought in vain; + Unlamented and unburied, + Will be found the wicked slain. + + If there's yet one ray of mercy, + Lingering for transgressors here, + Let them haste to gain the treasure, + Bought and paid for us so dear. + + + + + The Coming Day. + + + The great day is near, when probation no more, + For the careless backslider will longer remain; + And the sinner will find when all mercy is o'er, + What a treasure he's lost which he might have attain'd. + + The saints will come forth in immortal array, + Their triumph o'er death and the grave be complete, + The living be changed, and together ascend, + Their glorious Redeemer in Heaven to meet. + + With him forever, 'tis said they will be, + And the song of their victory never shall end. + Forever with Christ in his glorious home,-- + Oh, who can such glory and bliss comprehend? + + And are we prepared for this glorious place? + Are we able to stand when the Lord shall appear? + Our victory o'er self must be full and entire, + Or still for ourselves may we tremble and fear. + + God loves to redeem and to save us from sin; + Let us haste to pursue the true path of reform; + And the strength of Omnipotence then will be ours; + We shall conquer the foe, we shall weather the storm. + + + + + Domestic Afflictions. + + From the story "A Skeleton in every house." + + + Domestic afflictions! Oh! how they divide; + How sad when we can't in each other confide, + This anguish, though deep, must in silence be borne, + Abroad, home afflictions should not be made known. + + Beware when 'tis said, Oh! how happy you are, + Not even to hint there's a skeleton there, + The sight of which fills with deep anguish the heart, + Oh! 'tis nought to see loved ones and kindred depart. + + When the grave has enclosed them, the grief wears away; + But oh! living griefs on the stoutest hearts prey; + Though you smile and seem joyful, 'tis but to conceal + The depth of the misery you inwardly feel. + + How oft, where true peace undisturbed is enjoyed, + By a member additional, all is destroyed; + No congenial spirit, domestic joys o'er, + And home, O sweet home, there is realized no more. + + When obliged to have inmates aside from our own, + How oft seeds of discord and anguish are sown; + The world thus is filled with confusion and strife, + Embittering the peace and the quiet of life. + + Well, be this our portion; be broken each tie; + On the arm of the Lord we alone must rely. + With a meek, quiet spirit, resigning our all, + Content in our Father's allotments to fall. + + + + + The Christian's Desire. + + + I long, O God! to call thee mine, + And know that I am truly thine; + That all I think, or say, or do, + May meet thine approbation, too. + + In all, thy glory I would seek, + And but for thee, Lord, would not speak; + I'd raise my voice in grateful lays, + Nor would I move but to thy praise. + + I'd part with joys of earthly mould, + And pass through trials yet untold, + Could I but know my Lord was there, + And did each bitter cup prepare. + + I'd love to drink it, and rejoice + To have thy will, dear Lord, my choice. + If I might choose, I'd leave to thee + The whole control of mine and me. + + God will protect and save his own, + Though in the fiery furnace thrown; + But did we know our case was sure, + 'T might not effect sin's needed cure. + + To break our hold of every tie, + That we to sin and self may die, + God seems to quite forsake us here, + Nor leave one ray of light to cheer. + + Though painful now, "the darkest day, + To-morrow, will have passed away," + Deliverance will be found ere long, + And then will come the conquerer's song. + + If I am favored here to share + An answer to my Saviour's prayer, + We shall be one, his voice I'll hear, + When in the clouds he shall appear. + + Oh! glorious day to those who're found + In Him when the last trump shall sound; + Their sorrows and their sufferings o'er, + And prayer to praise turned evermore. + + + + + The Warfare. + + + Temptations are presented, and we yield e'er we're aware, + And again become entangled in the tempter's subtle snare; + Our warring passions raging, with the sound of battle din, + Though outward foes in arms array, this warfare is within. + + There's hatred, pride and unbelief, and many evils there, + And our besetting sins oft battle faith and humble prayer; + Thus wasted are our energies, our strength and nobler powers, + And we ourselves deprive of joys, which otherwise were ours. + + Poor, wretched, miserable and blind, how vain our boastings all; + Our misspent moments, worse than lost, we never can recall. + The good we might have done, had we obeyed each precept given, + Will be a blank, and less will be our crowns of joy in Heaven. + + Why wound our souls? Why take the gall perverted tastes to please, + When nought but Jesus' dying blood, God's anger can appease? + Like Peter we deny our Lord, and spurn his tender care; + Such base ingratitude as this, who but a God could bear? + + Most deeply must we feel and weep, ere Christ will on us look, + And bless us with the assurance, that our names are in life's book; + He knows our frailties and is touched with penitential tears; + 'Tis just like Jesus to forgive, and banish all our fears. + + Such depths of love, such pity, too, should make us prostrate fall + Before our King whom we should crown forever "Lord of all;" + And when we're freely justified, continued help we crave, + Our strength is weakness, and ourselves from sin we cannot save. + + Thy mission here was, Lord, to save thy people from their sins, + And here if e'er we overcome, is where our hope begins. + Through Christ alone the victory's gained, and nothing can we merit; + If we are overcomers, we in him all things inherit. + + Not unto us, but Lord to thee, the glory shall be given; + It is the noblest song on earth, 'twill noblest be in Heaven; + No warring passions to unstring the holy, heavenly lyre, + At the loss of all things here, would I be one in that blest choir. + + + + + Always Rejoicing. + + + If our heart do not condemn us, we have confidence in God, + We can bear the world's reproaches, we can bear affliction's rod; + If we suffer with the Saviour, we shall also with him reign, + Here we cast our burden on him, with the promise, he'll sustain. + + What though false reports are started, and believed by those we love? + We can love though they turn from us; we can plead for them above; + Lord, impart the Holy Spirit; for the want of this they erred; + Had they waited for thy teachings, they the Shepherd's voice had heard; + + Would have known thy stately steppings, when thy glory was displayed; + Would have felt the holy influence, and thine urgent call obeyed. + Oh! withhold no blessing from them, for the wrong dealt out to me, + But for Jesus' sake have mercy; mercy, Lord, is all our plea. + + Jesus has pronounced a blessing on those falsely here accused, + Who for his sake are derided, persecuted and abused; + He has said, Rejoice, in that day ye may be exceeding glad, + Greater still our joy in Heaven, when in robes of glory clad. + + He will hide in his pavilion; there we're safe from every foe, + Under the Almighty's shadow we can through disasters go; + Well can we bear wrongs and censure, while God knows our innocence, + While he justifies us freely; is our shield and our defense. + + Glory to the Lord, my Saviour! glory to his holy name! + Oh! for his sake I can suffer, bear reproach and grief and shame! + Who, with such a friend as Jesus, can be troubled or dismayed? + Who while on the waters walking, said, 'Tis I, be not afraid. + + He can still the raging tempest; him the winds and waves obey; + While we sail these seas of trouble, he will smooth and calm the way. + Soon the ship will be in harbor, storms and tempests all be o'er; + Oh! how blest the glorious landing, tossed with sins and griefs no + more! + + + + + The Work of Reform. + + + The dearest joys of earth can ne'er + One solid pleasure give; + We're only blest when we can know + That 'tis for God we live. + + We love by nature what he hates; + We shun ourselves to see; + We love our appetites and pride, + Ease and carnality. + + The strife must come, and self must die, + Our idols all be slain; + How sad should they o'er us at last + Their cruel victory gain! + + Too soon we cannot overcome + Our every sin and wrong. + Through Jesus let us conquer self, + And join the blood-washed throng. + + Our wings of strength and zeal we plume, + And rouse the dormant will, + To yield our hearts to Nature's laws, + And all their claims fulfill. + + This move in heavenly wisdom made, + To fit for trouble's hour, + Has blessings for the willing heart, + Of health and strength and power. + + That all around may see the light, + Let's raise our banner high, + And be epistles known and read + By all who may come nigh. + + The platform for us now is laid; + Reform is on the sign; + We'll rally round, resolving each, + It's blessings shall be mine. + + + + + Live for God. + + + The offering has been made, + The ransom has been paid; + On one full strong to save + Has help for us been laid. + Behold, O God, our shield, + On thine Anointed look, + And blot, for his dear sake, + Our sins from out thy book. + + Sins now of deepest dye, + Can all be washed away; + God just, and justify + Those who his laws obey. + "Glory to God on high; + Good will to men on earth:"-- + Such was the rapturous cry, + That told a Saviour's birth. + + The Saviour's life and death, + "Has ruined Satan's throne;" + His mighty arm, alone, + Can crush his empire down. + Though god now of this world, + His triumph soon is o'er. + We hail the dawning day + When he shall reign no more. + + Salvation's wondrous plan, + Has made all Heaven rejoice; + 'Tis wisdom now in man + To make this boon his choice. + By this can he o'ercome, + And when each sin's forgiven, + Be found at last an heir + Of glory and of Heaven. + + Ere long at home in Heaven, + His place of final rest-- + There's no oppressor there; + And none will be oppressed. + All harmony and love, + All joy and glory there-- + Say, would you not in these + Eternal blessings share? + + Live then for joys like these; + Hear Jesus' voice to-day, + Who comes to me, I will + In no wise cast away. + Just as you are, then, come; + Secure his pardoning love, + And have, at last, the bliss, + And joy of Heaven above. + + + + + My Sheep Hear My Voice. + + + The voice of a stranger my sheep will not hear; + I know them, they follow, my words reach their ear. + I'll lead them, direct them, they never need stray, + I myself am the life, and the truth, and the way. + + Yea, Lord, this we know; but we lose sight of thee; + Unguarded we're snared ere our danger we see; + So hidden the net, 'tis in thy light alone + That a spirit that's not of thee clearly is known. + + O Lord search us out; our impurities heal; + Thou, tempted, though sinless, knowest all that we feel; + A way of escape for the humble thou'lt find, + And help them the pure testimony to bind. + + How sweet and consoling the true Shepherd's voice! + His love I'll acknowledge and in him rejoice; + O Lord I believe, help my unbelief now, + To trust all to thee and perform every vow. + + My strength is but weakness; be thou, Lord, my strength; + Thy love may I know in its hight, depth and length; + Reflecting thine image, thy will being mine, + My darkness enlightened, the true light must shine. + + We then can do all things through Jesus our Lord, + With the sword of the Spirit, his own written word; + The foes that lurk inward being all put to flight, + God truly goes with us our battles to fight. + + Each keeping the ranks, all united in one, + Saying, Lord, as thou hast commanded, we've done; + No weapon will prosper formed here to divide, + And victory will turn upon Israel's side. + + + + + Where Is Thy God? + + "My tears have been my meat day and night, while they + continually say unto me, Where is thy God?" Ps. 42: 3. + + + Through day and night my tears have been my meat, + Anguish and grief there find a blest retreat; + The spirit crushed, the heart with anguish riven, + Almost forgets there will be rest in Heaven. + + Dear loved one sleeping--sympathy, oh, where? + Is there no one who will our sorrows share? + The flowing streamlet, and the murmuring rill, + In ocean find a kindred spirit still. + + Do tears oft say, Oh! where is now thy God? + Submit to this and every chastening rod. + I'd calmly yield to every needed ill, + And learn to bear God's visitation still. + + Not unaccustomed to the galling yoke, + Though oft uncalled for, I would bear each stroke; + Though wet with tears my pillow oft may be, + Still to the Lord for succor will I flee. + + + + + They who Love the Law. + + + Great peace have they that love thy law, + Them nothing will offend; + They'll bear neglect, reproach and scorn, + Though without cause contemned. + + Their innocence will bear them up, + Though falsely they're accused; + Their hearts will melt with love for those + By whom they are abused. + + The court of Heaven their cause will plead, + The innocent will clear; + Though men may load their names with guilt, + While they continue here. + + A consciousness of right within, + Great peace and joy afford; + How free, how happy, oh! how blest, + Communing with the Lord. + + He says revile not, when reviled, + Thy wrongs I will repay; + Be every burden cast on me, + I'll be thy strength and stay. + + + + + God, the Comforter of Those Who Are Cast Down. + + + In view of dear and loved ones gone, + We oft feel desolate and lone. + We seek man's sympathy in vain; + A passing look we hardly gain. + + But few can feel another's woe; + And fewer still will with us go + To share the depth of heart-felt grief; + And sacrifice to give relief. + + To bear affliction's chastening rod, + Our confidence must be in God. + With this above the cloud we soar, + And soon we'll shout our suffering o'er. + + Disease and dark misfortune's frown, + Then will not sink our spirits down. + We'll shout, O death where is thy sting? + O grave thou canst no victory bring! + + By Jesus, our Deliverer, freed, + No light of sun or moon we need. + His glory is the city's light, + And with him there we've all a right. + + Each bitter pang which here we bear, + Will be a gem of glory there. + Th' eternal weight of glory, wrought + By suffering is not dearly bought. + + Be cold indifference, grief or pain + Mine to endure--the loss is gain. + Through sorrow's depths I here would wade + To be through sufferings perfect made. + + + + + Worldly Sorrow. + + + Worldly sorrow worketh death; + Sink not beneath its power; + 'Twill darken much that else were bright, + In mercy's lingering hour. + + Forgotten be the trials past, + The present meekly borne; + Our burdens cast upon the Lord, + Who comforts those that mourn. + + With heavenly wisdom we shall know + What God would have us do; + While moving in his order on, + Our hope and strength renew. + + Revived and strengthened we're prepared + To spread the truth abroad, + Beseeching men in Jesus' stead, + Be reconciled to God. + + Then jewels will be gathered in, + The church built up again, + And all prepared to meet the Lord, + Who's coming soon to reign. + + + + + The Race and Warfare. + + + Are we loitering on the way + To the realms of endless day? + Sleep we on while danger's near? + Have we nought to dread or fear? + + Let us heed the call, Awake! + Our eternal all's at stake; + One false step our fate may seal, + Ruin, soon our souls may feel. + + Foes our every move to spy, + All around in ambush lie; + Watching, they will take the place + Left unfortified by grace. + + Oh! what havoc then is made, + Structures fair in ruin laid; + Messengers driven from the field, + Those who should be valiant, yield. + + Some who started to go through + Now a wicked course pursue; + What account must soon be given! + Why thus sink in sight of Heaven? + + Flee, oh! flee the tempter's snare! + There is power with God in prayer; + He is ready to forgive, + Saying, Look to me and live. + + + + + The Darkness of Despair. + + + The heart knows its bitterness, thought 't may be said, + You are happy and blest all the while; + The depth of your misery, your burden of sin + May in anguish be hid 'neath a smile. + + Thy waves and thy billows are over me gone, + With the Psalmist, I mournfully say, + And ask, Why cast down? Why disquieted, opprest? + 'Tis why I've no heart now to pray? + + Has the Spirit been grieved? Has it taken its flight? + To this desolate self am I left? + And merited sure, naught else is deserved, + But to be thus of comfort bereft. + + I groan, being burdened, and cannot look up, + By reason of sin's dread array, + O keep back from sins, and from secret faults cleanse, + Or despairing, I sink in dismay. + + Sin hardens, and blinds, and shuts up in despair; + The way of transgressors is hard, + Its end is destruction, its wages are death, + Thus forever from Heaven debarred. + + This anguish of spirit, this sad state of the soul, + I must bear though I may not submit. + God is just though I perish, his throne remains pure, + However many he may not acquit. + + Oh! for one gleam of hope, thus to break the dread spell, + By which I in misery seem bound; + Naught of earth, but the power of Heaven must heal + Sin's painful, sin's deep, bleeding wound. + + Should I ever again meet the smiles of my God, + Should I ever his praise again sing, + In rapturous song I would swell the grand theme, + And my tribute of thanksgiving bring. + + Oh! here is the mystery,--give glory to God; + The blessing is coming e'en now. + I'll sing hallelujah, I'll praise and adore, + And low in humility bow. + + With the Psalmist, I cry, Come praise ye the Lord, + Praise and glory to God now belong; + My heart with my hands, lift to God in the Heavens, + Giving praise with the angelic throng. + + This praise ne'er will end; the redeemed will unite, + And with angels, God's glory repeat. + To the pure tree of life all will there have a right, + And the fruit of the vineyard will eat. + + How blest to know Jesus our Lord will be there, + The glory and light of the place. + And the song which forever will rise on its air, + Will be sung to his sovereign grace. + + + + + The Latter Rain. + + + We may look for a Pentecost season to dawn + When the saints through the purifying process have gone; + When Jesus' loved image in them we can trace, + Reflecting the glory of full sovereign grace. + + Who then will not wish when this glory they see + To join in the song, Hallelujah, we're free! + Yea, free in the Lord, while our voices we raise + In victory's songs and hosannas of praise. + + The true melting Spirit is felt from the Lord, + And light and instruction shine out from his word. + God's power is made known and his glory displayed, + While scoffers will feel that they need Heaven's aid. + + Who here long can stand with his sins unconfessed? + May all be searched out, and God's people be blessed. + Confess ye your faults, and thus honor your King, + And into his store-house your offerings bring. + + 'Tis a cross-bearing way by which Heaven is obtained; + In humility's vale is the victory gained. + True love there prevails; and our sins are forgiven, + While union and strength mark the pilgrims for Heaven. + + + + + The Hour of Judgment. + + + The time has come, that all-important day, + When sins must be confessed and washed away! + When hearts must feel, and conscience' voice be heard + In swift obedience to God's holy word. + + "Be zealous and repent," is God's command. + We must in humble ranks united stand. + With us, 'tis said, the judgment first begins; + And we must soon be cleansed from all our sins. + + We must let Jesus in. Our mighty foe + Is ready to effect our overthrow. + With Christ we're safe; in conflict he'll unite, + Help on to victory, and maintain the right. + + The eye-salve, well applied, sheds light around, + And all our secret faults and sins are found, + To be confessed, while Jesus intercedes, + And while for us his precious blood he pleads. + + Though scarlet be our sins--of crimson dye-- + If penitent, he'll not our suit deny. + He waits for full confession, which, when made, + Whate'er our sin and guilt, he'll not upbraid. + + He's ready to acquit and set us free, + And will proclaim our perfect liberty. + He'll seal us his, and make us here his care; + He'll fit us for his throne, and take us there. + + He's cutting short his work in righteousness, + And coming soon his waiting saints to bless. + When once he's left the mediatorial place, + No ray of mercy lights our ruined race. + + 'Twill then be known, the offers we've refused, + The blood-bought privileges that we've abused-- + How must it sharpen every pang of guilt + To think, for us the Saviour's blood was spilt; + + To know we might have had our sins forgiven, + And lived forever with the loved in Heaven. + In view of anguish deep we then must feel. + No wounds of sin may we here slightly heal. + + Broad as th' offense, confession I will make, + And all my dear, loved idol sins forsake. + Yes, glory be to God! the victory's gained, + And self-denial shall be hence maintained. + + 'Twill take our all to buy the pure tried gold; + And naught of earth can we in heart withhold. + A cheaper way I would not, could I, go; + A dearer way no one can ever show. + + I love the blessed way; it buoys me up; + My Saviour's here, and with him I may sup. + I'll be content with nothing short of this; + And this alone makes Heaven perpetual bliss. + + Then let us make our hope and calling sure; + And all our trials patiently endure. + They'll soon be o'er; our lives we'll not hold dear, + And soon in glory with our Lord appear. + + + + + The Remnant Church. + + + There is a people coming up, with gifts and power divine, + Whose holy influence will be felt, whose holy light will shine; + It will be known who do in truth, the solemn message heed, + Such will be zealous and repent, becoming saints indeed. + + Their love and union will increase, their interests will be one; + They'll know that they are heirs of God, and joint heirs with his Son; + They'll love God for his own dear sake, not that He's them forgiven; + And truly "sin will be their hell, and holiness their Heaven." + + Their company will be the saints, and each will be so dear, + They'll love to make a sacrifice to benefit them here. + They'll love for their Redeemer's sake; as answers face to face, + So will their hearts while they in each, his lovely image trace. + + This dread, dull sameness will not long among the saints bear sway, + The glory in their midst will soon purge all the chaff away; + Thus separated from the vile, the strong be stronger still; + The great refreshing time is near, and all may come who will. + + But, oh! some will not be refined, nor give their idols up; + Such never will let Jesus in, nor with him ever sup. + They yet may linger round the shore, and think to get on board, + But they must come to Heaven's terms; the standard can't be lowered. + + Thrice happy they who're in the ship, though tossed with angry waves! + "Our Father's at the helm," and all who trust in him he saves; + Those who in heart give up their all, lie passive in his hand, + He'll bring with safety into port, to their own promised land. + + + + + False Fame and True. + + + While men, our faults perceiving not, would move our fame to raise, + How oft our natures weakly yield to flattery and praise, + Oh! what in us should e'er excite our vanity and pride! + Or cause us not in lowliness, vain thoughts of self to hide? + + Let deeds of charity and love in all our life abound; + Philanthrophy fails not to go, where'er a sufferer's found, + To seek the poor, degraded, low, the wicked and debased, + Though his own name by slander's tongue, be ever thus defaced. + + These are the jewels he would gain, this course would fain pursue; + That he is not like them, he asks, to whom is glory due? + Who made us thus to differ here? who gives the strength and power + To hold the victory over self, in dark temptation's hour? + + Let him who thinks he stands take heed; this is the word to all; + The strongest may be overcome, and through temptation fall. + Do we in higher circles move? are higher placed by birth? + No such distinction will be known, when moldering in the earth. + + But deeds of kind benevolence will live when we are dead; + The poor will think how they were clothed, and shared our daily bread; + The once abandoned who've reformed beneath our fostering care, + Will bless the day they ever lived our sympathies to share. + + Such the remembrance I would have, alive or in my grave, + To have been the humble instrument some sinking soul to save. + For this I turn from pleasure's scenes, to weep with those that weep; + To strive their sufferings to assuage, their confidence to keep. + + Though on them glows the copper tint, though African their race, + What matters these distinctions of their nation, lot, or place? + For oh! the highest joy of earth is comfort to impart + To those who lie 'neath fortune's frowns, with sad and suffering heart. + + Though hidden from the public view, unseen your acts of love, + If heart and hand be clean and pure, their record lives above. + Let me thus seek my neighbor's good, thus helpless sufferers raise; + Be this the glory of my fame; be deeds of love my praise. + + + + + Return unto the Lord. + + + Have you again become + To appetite a slave? + You've boasted victory here, + Why sink beneath the wave? + + You say, I have no hope, + No strength within me lies, + And sinking still, I fear + I ne'er again shall rise. + + My efforts all have failed, + To keep the victory gained. + Where look for refuge now? + Or hope to be sustained? + + A helpless sufferer, true, + On confines of despair, + While knowing there's no hope, + If you continue there. + + Debased and losing still + Life's elevating powers, + A worse than blank you feel + In this grand world of ours. + + A world God loved so well, + He sent his only Son, + That we through him might find + On earth a Heaven begun. + + A world to which he sends + Rich blessings from above, + And daily here renews + His covenant of love. + + Be moved, despairing one; + Be helped again to live; + God pities, and will yet + A greater victory give. + + He's waiting your return, + With pardon in his hand; + In his strength you can rise, + And in him we can stand. + + Yes; stand amidst the scenes + Of peril, war and strife, + While Jesus is our guide + To everlasting life. + + Come while he waits to save. + Your case will hopeless be + Except you come where God + In Christ can make you free. + + Come and he'll save you here + From sin's destructive power, + And be your all, when comes + The great decisive hour. + + + + + Safety in the Lord. + + + There's safety only in the Lord, whate'er our station be; + We may be rich, we may be poor, may be on land or sea. + Life's changing fortune will be ours where'er our lot is cast; + Unchanged in mind be ours to meet each change while it shall last. + + Dear friends are with us here to day with prospects fair to live; + To-morrow to the dust, in tears, their dear remains we give. + Now pain and suffering is our lot; now dawns a brighter day; + But soon a cloud o'ercasts the sky and shuts the light away. + + An under current often works to sweep away our peace, + Our reputation is at stake, our trials fast increase. + Dear reputation, dearest far, of all we've called our own, + Must be defaced; then be it so; to God all things are known, + + Be every circumstance combined, the elements to + raise; By these be every trace removed of all our evil ways. + When Jesus speaks it will be calm, the storm and wind subside; + Oh! may it last till all is gone of selfishness and pride. + + All else but this we could endure; this then is what we need; + Our very idol must be slain, and we from self be freed. + Then are we fit for Heaven's use, to help build up God's cause, + To boldly speak in his defense, and vindicate his laws. + + Oh! be it ours to live for God, his glory all our aim; + He'll work in power when we come to him in Jesus' name. + All that is wrong will he remove, and bring the truth to light; + Oh! we can trust our all with him; his ways are just and right. + + We'll go then where he leads the way, whatever man may say. + The greatest saint is nought except the Lord direct his way. + Angels can't help but through their Lord; to his arm all is due; + We'll follow him, for surely he will lead us safely through. + + + + + The Health Institute. + + + God knows our needs, he overrules, and calls this work his own; + We're agents to perform his will, as he shall make it known. + Thus has an Institute been built; in this his hand we see; + Where health reform is lived and taught, in strictest harmony. + + We look, admire, in joy exclaim, Come see what God hath wrought! + Here invalids are raised to health, and truth and duty taught. + Perverted tastes are overcome; the way to live we learn; + And all who will its rules obey, a rich experience earn. + + The light and truth are carried forth by those who leave the place, + Showing what ground may yet be gained by our degenerate race. + How blest! for those who overcome their every sin and wrong, + Can love the right, and walk in ways that life and health prolong. + + None can appreciate its worth, but those who test its powers; + This grand reform! how great and good! Its blessings shall be ours. + Pure nature's fruits no art require to gratify the taste, + And those who stop at her demands, nor time nor substance waste. + + Who will escape the many ills increasing on the land? + The cleansed and purified alone, diseases can withstand. + Haste, then, the cleansing process here, God's precepts all obey, + And be prepared to stand when comes the great and dreadful day. + + + + + Divine Love. + + + Though knowledge here is power, yet 'tis love subdues the heart, + Subjects the will to Heaven, and will endless life impart. + It conquers every passion; and the soul that feels its power + Moves in a world of freedom, within its own loved bower. + + 'Tis shielded, safely shielded; the interior nought can reach; + No outward condemnation can this inward love impeach. + No weapon formed can prosper; and it fears no outward foe: + While all within is conquered, 'tis a Heaven begun below. + + The world's applause, its censure too, are both alike received; + If undeserved, 'tis heeded not, though all may be believed. + It knows no good but that in God, it bears life's every ill, + And moves undauntedly along, in Heaven's own blessed will. + + Though outwardly you see conveyed "a libel in a frown," + You'll stand unmoved, though they may "wink your reputation down;" + Your deeds of charity assailed, your motives questioned too-- + Reviled, you'll not revile again, nor fear what man can do. + + Oh! for the gold tried in the fire--our eyes anointed here-- + White raiment that we may be clothed, and not in shame appear. + We then should move in harmony; our God would own and bless; + We then should see his works abound in love and righteousness. + + The day is near, it hasteth on, when saints will all unite; + When every sin will be confessed, and every wrong made right; + When we shall see as we are seen, and know as we are known, + And sit with Jesus, as he sits upon his Father's throne. + + Oh! glory, hallelujah to our high, exalted King; + We'll praise him here, we'll praise him there, and make Heaven's arches + ring. + Who then can sacrifice too much, too much for him endure? + So may we purify ourselves, as Christ our Lord is pure. + + + + + Appeal to the Sinner. + + + Though earth delights and charms us here, its treasures are but naught; + In wisdom's light 'tis clearly seen how dear its love is bought, + The price though now not realized, must soon be strictly paid. + For this the soul must perish soon, in hopeless ruin laid. + + The second death must be endured in anguish and despair; + While you will see the righteous saved, no friend can reach you there. + Oh! loss beyond all losses! Then what profit here to gain + This fleeting world, and call at last for endless life, in vain! + + The blood of Jesus set at naught--rejected every call-- + The Spirit will be forced to yield, and let God's vengeance fall. + The wrath of God e'en now impends; and soon you'll feel its weight. + Oh! flee for refuge while there's hope; full soon 'twill be too late. + + A moment more the Saviour waits; for you his blood he pleads, + My blood! my Father, oh, my blood! forgive the sinner's deeds! + But if you still refuse to bow, and be by him forgiven, + You must be banished from the Lord, and find no place in Heaven. + + To free from sin and second death, the Saviour's blood has cost-- + What weeping and what wailing when you see what you have lost. + God's justice will be manifest in your destruction sure; + And hopeless agony will be your portion to endure. + + Once more in prayer I prostrate fall, once more I'll plead your case; + Have mercy, Lord, and here bestow unmerited free grace. + He's knocking now! he's wet with dew! Oh! let the Saviour in; + He'll sup with you, and you with him; he'll cleanse you from all sin. + + He'll shelter from the coming storm; no plague shall e'er come nigh; + He'll hide from God's avenging wrath, and you shall never die. + Life's water pure is here: come, drink! 'tis freely offered still; + The Spirit and the Bride say, Come! Come, whosoever will. + + + + + The Love of Many is Waxed Cold. + + + Are we suffering persecution, trying God's commands to keep? + Are our spirits crushed within us? Do we oft in silence weep? + From the world naught else we look for; we expect its coldest frown; + But when those we love turn from us, how we sink in sorrow down! + + Where we've felt God's image planted, where in union we have prayed, + Where our faith has gained the victory, and we knew from Heaven our + aid, + Oh! what change has cooled the fervor; what could mean this cold + retreat? + Lord, let thine in union ever, and in love, each other greet. + + God's own searching eye is on us! Jesus feels our every grief! + He'll not leave his own thus wounded, but will bring them swift relief; + Making known our every duty, teaching where he'd have us go, + Saying, Fear not! I'll be with you, and all needed help bestow. + + Though you see your bread withholden, find no place to lay your head; + Cast your all on Heaven's protection: God to life can raise the dead! + Who the widow's oil replenished? Who kept good her needed store, + When Elijah shared her morsel, having naught to purchase more? + + If we blindly hug earth's treasures, where shall we a shelter find? + Soon the plagues will be upon us! all then on the altar bind. + Do you say 'tis on the altar? By the fruit it will be known: + God is searching out his people, and is sealing for his own. + + Let us fear lest we offend him, and he pass our dwelling by: + He will have a holy people, whom no plague can e'er come nigh. + Haste to get thee disentangled! Haste to get from bondage free! + Lose not for this world's possessions, life and immortality! + + + + + Early Recollections. + + + I look back to the past, call to mind former days; + When life was all life, all illumined its rays; + When I entered the ball room in pleasing attire, + Having all that my vain mind or wish could desire. + + I had naught here to check, all elated in mind, + Both pastor and people the gay circle joined; + When the priest craved a blessing on dainties most rare, + Oh! why should I think any harm could be there? + + No cloud had come o'er me; all prospects were bright; + This vain course I pursued with exquisite delight; + I dreamed not that tears would these pleasures efface, + That sickness and death would come in for a place. + + But my own dear loved father, in manhood and bloom, + Was called from life's stage and consigned to the tomb; + How great such a change, and how solemn the day, + The same priest referred to was with us to pray. + + Being then in youth's bloom, in its glory and prime, + My grief wore away with the swiftness of time. + True, a loss I sustained in his death; but, all o'er, + I again joined the song and the dance as before. + + The scene soon was changed, we could just number years, + When my mother, my dear mother left me in tears; + She died e're I'd come to the age of eighteen; + How deep was my grief, how afflictive the scene. + + To cheer, friends and relatives strove but in vain; + From weeping incessant I scarce could refrain; + The wound seemed too deep for this world e'er to heal; + That I'd no hope in God, I was then brought to feel. + + Repentance moved Jesus my sins to forgive; + I could trust in his word, on his promises live; + But I found no response, none to guide in the place; + Those around had no faith in a change wrought by grace. + + 'Midst life's changing scenes, I most happily found + A people who knew Heaven's own joyful sound; + Our union and love then were truly divine, + I'd the witness, and knew Heaven's blessings were mine. + + I could then bless the Lord for this chastening rod; + How far above earth's this enjoyment in God; + The hight of earth's pleasures all dwindled away, + In the light and the glory of this blessed day. + + + + + The Circle Broken. + + + This dear, lone room, a sacred place-- + Here friends have met in love's embrace; + Here, too, have died the loved and dear, + The circle first was broken here. + + The lonely hearth, the vacant chair, + But tell the father is not there. + The only daughter, loved and true, + Here bid earth's scenes a last adieu. + + I love here to recall the past, + And mourn o'er joys too bright to last. + In fancy's vision here I see + Those forms so loved, so dear to me. + + + + + The Christian's Confidence. + + + We know that help on one is laid + Who has his life a ransom paid; + We know his blood can cleanse from sin, + And make us clean and pure within. + + We know the arm that's strong to save, + The power that rescues from the grave. + We know that ne'er Jehovah's ear + Is deafened that he cannot hear. + + Taken in Satan's artful snare, + Who once had power with God in prayer, + Their minds and hearts by sin enslaved-- + Can such go through? can such be saved? + + Though we may not their case decide, + The faithful all will be supplied. + They'll see "the cloud of radiant light," + "The fount of glory" full and bright. + + They see the signs fulfilling fast; + And soon earth's conflict will be past: + Nor do they shrink from being there; + For they presume not nor despair. + + They know in whom they have believed; + Their Saviour victory has achieved. + Though heaven and earth to ruin go, + His promise will no failure know. + + No cause for doubts or darkness here, + For troubled mind or slavish fear. + Trials and crosses we'll receive, + If some may turn to God and live. + + But those who will not heed the call, + For God and Heaven to give up all, + May well sink down in dark despair; + For they will gain no entrance there. + + + + + For a Gathering of the Aged. + + + Out from life's hour glass we must see our sands have nearly run, + And we with social scenes in life shall surely soon have done. + Be this improved, then, for our good; our last days be our best, + And in the final gathering we be found among the blest. + + On us is seen th' effect of age; we see the furrowed brow. + Time's stern realities o'ertake, and we are forced to bow. + Compared the once bright, sparkling eye, the rosy, blooming cheek, + Our present looks, infirmities, and form, do volumes speak. + + Though some most helpless, others bowed, on all is seen decay, + There're those o'er three-score years and ten who're youthful, blithe, + and gay. + Be such, then, hopeful, full of life, as may become us here. + There's much at best t' embitter life, to make it sad and drear. + + We have unfading beauty here, if we have love divine, + Howe'er defaced by time and age will nature's works outshine; + Its rays of light reflecting o'er this moral atmosphere, + Will still be seen and felt for good, though we may disappear. + + This present meeting then will seem a little Heaven below, + Its influence, too, be spread abroad wherever we may go. + Be this the pleasing, glad result; and then in fadeless bloom, + We shall in beauty be arrayed beyond the silent tomb. + + + + + Emptiness of Earth. + + + What though while here we soar in fame, + And gain earth's most illustrious name, + Have heaps on heaps of sordid gold, + No pleasures here desired, withhold. + + Be mayor, emperor and king; + To light and use improvements bring; + For having some great place explored, + Be worshiped, honored and adored; + Your influence o'er an empire spread, + And you looked up to as the head; + What then? the king and hero dies; + And though 'tis said the great here lies, + 'T might well be asked, "False marble, where? + Nothing but sordid dust lies here." + Thus earth's career, however grand, + When called before their judge to stand, + If not to God and Heaven resigned, + Ere to the tomb they were consigned, + Will prove no covering for the head, + Though banners here were for them spread. + What horror then must seize the heart, + When God commands, from him depart; + Though laws and statutes here they made, + This sentence then must be obeyed. + + Sin's dread beginning here we know, + Its issue none on earth can show; + But oh! the "end, the dreadful end," + Of those who have in God no friend. + + + + + The Christian's Triumph. + + + Ye idols all depart, + The Lord shall have my heart; + I'm his by right. + On him my sins were laid; + He has my ransom paid, + In God's pure sight. + + Through him I'll conquer too, + And all my sins subdue; + In him be free. + He died to have it so, + And in his strength I'll go, + Till him I see. + + Oh! shall I see his face, + And rest in his embrace + Forevermore? + My soul is on the wing + To glorify my King; + Him I adore. + + All Heaven adore him now, + In adoration bow; + It is his due. + For saints shall swell the song + Of the angelic throng, + In earth made new. + + They'll see him as he is, + And know that they are his; + Be like him made. + In union, all the same, + There'll be to his dear name, + True homage paid. + + Hail, that all-glorious place, + When all the ransomed race, + Their voices raise; + And all with sweet accord, + Give glory to the Lord, + In ceaseless praise. + + In Eden beauty dressed, + Will be each heavenly guest, + All blooming fair. + This inward truth we know, + And there we long to go; + God will be there. + + + + + A BRIEF SKETCH + OF THE + _Life, Last Sickness and Death_ + OF + ANNIE R. SMITH. + + +Annie Rebekah Smith, only daughter of Samuel and Rebekah Smith, was born +in West Wilton, N. H., March 16, 1828. When ten years of age, she was +converted and joined the Baptist church, in which connection she remained +till 1844, when she embraced the doctrine of the soon coming of Christ, +and withdrew from the church that she might more freely engage in the +work of preparation for that event. After the passing of the time in +1844, being thrown with others into doubt respecting our position in the +prophetic calendar, she pursued her favorite occupations of studying and +teaching. Commencing in 1844, as assistant in a select school kept by +Miss Sarah Livermore, in Wilton, between that time and 1850 she taught, +in different places, seven district schools, attending, meanwhile, a term +each in Milford, Hancock and New Ipswich, N. H., and six terms at the +Ladies' Female Seminary in Charlestown, Mass. At the latter place she +fitted herself for a teacher in Oil Painting and French. + +In 1850 she took a sketch of Boston and Charlestown from Prospect Hill, +Somerville, three miles distant. The effort was too much for her eyes, +and, for about eight months she almost entirely lost the use of them. On +account of this difficulty, she was obliged to decline a proposition to +teach in the seminary at Hancock, which made her misfortune seem almost +intolerable, so great was her disappointment. The only alleviation which +she found for her affliction in this time, was in becoming an agent for, +and contributor to, "The Ladies' Wreath," a monthly magazine published in +New York. Her contributions to this periodical, with the exception of a +few pieces published in the "Odd Fellow," and some other papers, were her +first efforts at public writing. + +Her friends in Charlestown, thinking the salt water would prove a benefit +to her eyes, invited her to spend a season with them. She went in 1851, +not expecting to be gone many weeks, but did not return till November, +1852, when she was called home by the sickness and death of her father. +During her stay in Boston and vicinity she went to Portland and Nova +Scotia. I requested her to go once, to please me, to sister Temple's, in +Boston, to a Seventh-day Adventist meeting. Some remarkable incidents in +connection with her attendance at this meeting, together with the +faithful efforts of the friends of the truth, arrested her attention; and +in about three weeks she committed herself upon the Sabbath and its +attendant truths. The next week she sent to the "Advent Review" the piece +of poetry entitled "Fear not, Little Flock," which was her first +contribution to that paper. The "Review" was then published in Saratoga, +N. Y., and she was immediately requested to take a position in that +office. She replied that she could not, on account of the trouble with +her eyes, but was told to come as she was, or to that effect. Arriving +there, the directions in James 5:14, 15, were followed, and her eyes were +so far strengthened in answer to prayer, that she was soon enabled to +engage without restraint in the work of the office. + +With strong faith and fervent zeal, she entered heartily into the work. +She rejoiced in the new-found truth. The whole current of her mind was +changed, and nobler aspirations took possession of her heart. From a +position of exaltation and honor among men, she had now turned her eyes +to an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, reserved in Heaven for the +followers of Christ, and to a place at last with the redeemed before the +throne. Her contributions to the "Review" while it was published in +Saratoga and Rochester, N. Y., afterwards published in her volume of +poems, entitled, "Home here, and Home in Heaven," show the themes upon +which her mind delighted to dwell. + +In November, 1852, as already stated, she was called home by the sickness +of her father, who died the first of December following. In January, +1853, before returning to N. Y., she was solicited, in connection with +her brother Uriah, to take charge of the Academy in Mont Vernon, N. H., +with a salary for the first year, of one thousand dollars, and a prospect +of increase as they should bring the school up to a greater degree of +prosperity. But she preferred to labor in some capacity where her efforts +would tend more directly to spread a knowledge of the truth among the +people, and lead them to seek salvation through Christ the Saviour of +men. She therefore declined the offer, preferring, without any pecuniary +consideration, to again connect herself with the office. + +Two years later, in November, 1854, she came home to West Wilton, +suffering under the first stages of that disease which shortly brought +her to the grave. The following from a letter to a friend, written soon +after her death, sets forth the occasion of her last sickness, and the +circumstances attending the closing hours of her life: + +On account of sickness in the family where she boarded, she assisted in +the kitchen awhile, where was a warm stove, and in consequence of a +letter being left, she hastened with it to the office unprepared for a +cold, wet morning. Had she returned immediately, as she should have done, +all might have been well. But she stayed through the day, as her work was +there, and became very cold and chilly. That cold undoubtedly seated +itself immediately upon her lungs, and threw her into night sweats and a +hard cough, which ended but with her life. + +So rapid was the wasting process of her disease, that within six weeks +from the time she took the cold, she rode up in the cars, on her way +home, with an intimate acquaintance of hers who did not know her. He told +me he thought of her, but thought it could not be Annie, she was so +altered in her looks, being so poor and pale. Her brother Samuel said he +did not think he should have known her had he met her unexpectedly, and +said with a most dejected look, "_I don't think she will live._" + +She came home the 7th of November, kept about and worked some till about +the 1st of December, when she had a very distressed day, and raised +blood. Having confidence in water treatment, she went where she could +receive such treatment, to see the effect it would have, and to get +information. She continued this course till the following February. She +felt better while under the exhilarating effect of the water, but became +satisfied that she was no better. + +The 14th of February, most providentially, Bro. Joseph Bates called on +us, and stopped till the 18th. This was the occasion of a great blessing +to her. At the commencement of the Sabbath, the 16th, the spirit and +power of God descended upon her, and she praised God with a loud voice. I +felt at the same time the sweet influence of Heaven, and the presence of +holy angels. I believed God was hearing prayer, and granting his +blessing, and joined them in praising and giving glory to his name. Bro. +B. then said to Annie, "You needed this blessing, and now if the Lord +sees that it is best for you to be laid away in the grave, he will go +with you." + +She appeared some stronger and better a few days in the day time, but I +could not see that she rested, or was much different nights. Her cough +remained obstinate, and I do not think the disease was ever stayed. She +was greatly strengthened in a spiritual point of view, and engaged more +earnestly in exhorting people to believe the Word, and be ready for the +coming of the Lord. She would feel impressed to go out and talk with +different individuals upon the truth, and was strengthened and blessed in +so doing. Victory was generally gained, so that the truth was verified, +that whom the Lord makes free is free indeed. We had from that time as +long as she lived, some of the most sweet, melting seasons of prayer that +I ever enjoyed, often accompanied with shouts of praise to the Lord. + +It was evident to all around that Annie was failing. Her symptoms became +alarming. The 20th of March her brother Samuel was taken suddenly and +very sick with influenza and fever, three miles and a half away at his +boarding place, and unable to get home. Annie said I must go and attend +upon him, even if she never saw me again. + +The 30th she went to Mason Village to stay with sister Gorham, while I +was with her brother. While there, word came that Annie was much worse. +The 12th of April I went to Mason Village, and found her very much worse +than I expected. For twelve days her death was almost hourly expected by +those around. She said to me, "Mother, that poem I've been writing since +January, 1855, [since published under the title of "Home Here and Home in +Heaven,"] I suppose must all be lost. It is unconnected, and nothing can +be done with it to advantage, without me." I went to Wilton and got the +papers containing what she had written, but she was not able to do +anything with them. She then prayed that she might be enabled to finish +the poem, and prepare the book she had in contemplation; that if she did +not live, it might be that through it, she being dead would yet speak, +and that good might be done. + +Sabbath April 21, the meeting was at sister Gorham's. We did not hold it +in her room on account of her low state of health, but went in to close +the exercises, when to our surprise she commenced praying with more than +usual strength. The presence of God was manifested, and his power rested +down upon her in a remarkable manner. She said she was raised up to go +home, and to do the will of the Lord. She rested better that night than +she had for a long while. The next day she rode to Wilton, seven miles, +to the astonishment of all. Many from our village had been to see her, +and taken their leave, never expecting to see her again; and when they +saw the carriage drive up, they came in to inquire when she died. Great +was their surprise to find her able to walk about the room. She was again +in her own quiet home, and soon commenced on her work. She was not able +to write much herself, and I kept paper and pencil to write what she +dictated at her will. + +The 28th of May she had arranged and composed the last verse of her poem +"Home Here and Home in Heaven." The 29th, her brother Uriah came home +just in time to write it off for the press, and to assist her in +arranging her other poetry for reprinting. She, however, made some +alterations, and some little additions while he was copying it. + +She dreamed in February that she was with a people, seemingly spectators, +and before her was the most beautiful road, which glistened like gold. +There was a company arranged by the side, and some one came to her with a +peony, and said to her, "You must go over upon that road and hold up this +peony." She stood there dressed in white, holding up the peony, when she +awoke with the most pleasing impression, that she had yet something more +to do for the Lord. She fully believed after she came from Mason, that +she should accomplish the work she had in view, and that this was what +was represented by her dream. The peony was her favorite flower, and as +soon as they were in blossom, Uriah sketched and engraved one for the +book, as is seen on the title page. + +She often said in view of her dream, that when the book was done there +would be a change in her. She should either be raised up to live, or she +should die. Her prayer was answered. The book was all done on her part, +and as she had a desire to see the proof-sheet of her poem, and heard +that help was needed at the office, she said to Uriah, "I feel bad to +have you staying on my account, when it seems you might be accomplishing +more good." It was thought she might live till frosty nights, if no +longer. Under these considerations, Uriah left for Rochester the 17th of +July. He had not been gone with the manuscript; more than three hours, +when she said, "I am ready now to die;" and she did not live quite ten +days after. + +The 18th she wrote the piece "Our Duty." The 19th, at 3 o'clock, P. M., +she said, "Mother, some change has taken place. I don't think I shall +live through the day." I saw there was a change, and stayed by her. Night +drew on. No one happened in. She said, "It seems to me I could not +breathe to have many in the room." I told her I was not afraid to be +alone with her if she did die. She seemed gratified, as she wanted +everything as quiet as could be, and she was not able to talk much with +people if they were in. Her brother John and myself stayed with her +during the night, when it seemed that any moment might be her last. She +delivered many messages for different individuals, especially for her +brother Samuel, if she did not live to see him. She said, "My mind was +never clearer; I could do a sum in arithmetic." + +About 2 o'clock she looked very happy. I said to John, "Annie is being +blessed." She soon exclaimed, "Glory to God," a number of times, louder +than she had spoken for a long while. She said, "Heaven is opened. I know +Jesus is mine, and that he will save me. I shall come forth at the first +resurrection;" and exhorted us to prepare for the time of trouble, and to +be ready to meet her at that day, which she said she did not think was +far distant. + +Friday morning, the 20th, I wanted to write to Uriah, but she said "It +will make no difference, I think I am dying; don't leave me, mother, +while I live." We sent for Samuel, and for sister Gorham. She remained +about the same. Those who came in thought she must be just gone. They +said it did not seem like a sick and dying room, she appeared so happy. +She would look upon them and smile when she could not speak. Sabbath, +July 21, she seemed better. Sunday, the 22d, more distressed, though she +had some pleasing, and I trust profitable intercourse with her relatives +and some of her particular friends. Monday morning, more comfortable. +Some of us entertained hopes that she might, even then, revive and live. +Monday night her distress returned. She said, "I think I cannot live." +Thursday morning, the 24th, she composed her last two verses, "Oh! shed +not a tear o'er the spot where I sleep," &c. In the afternoon she had a +conflict with the enemy, and seemed to lose sight of Jesus. I told her it +was no strange thing; it was only a sign the Lord was near and would +deliver. She found it even so. Before night she was enabled to triumph +over all the powers of darkness, and praised God aloud. She prayed for +patience to suffer all her Father's will, saying, "I shall not suffer any +too much. I can bear anything while Jesus sustains me;" and many like +expressions. + +Tuesday night was a solemn and interesting night. I stayed with her alone +through the night. Neither of us slept. She was very happy, and talked +much with me. She said in her former familiar way, "My mother, I've been +afraid I should wear you all out. I've called after you by night and by +day." She felt bad to have me kept up as I was on her account. But she +said, "I am here now, your dying girl. I think this is the last night, +and you must be sure to rest when I am gone. O, my blessed mother, I +shall bless you in Heaven for taking such care of me. No sorrow or +suffering there. We shall all be free there. Yes, we shall all be free +when we arrive at home, and we shall live forever. Yes, and I can smile +upon you now through all my sufferings." It was her last suffering night. +Wednesday, the 25th, a death coldness was upon her. In the afternoon she +became more free from pain and distress. While speaking in the evening of +taking care of her, she said, "I shall not want any one to sit up; you +can lie on the lounge." At 1 o'clock I called Samuel. She talked with +him, called for what she wanted as usual, and told him he might lie down. +About three o'clock she called him to wet her head with water, and said +she felt sleepy. She was indeed going into her last sleep. Samuel wet her +head, and soon after spoke to me and said, "I don't know but Annie is +dying." I spoke to her. She took no notice, breathed a few times, and +died apparently as easy as any one going into a natural sleep. Her +sufferings were over. She was gone. It was 4 o'clock in the morning, July +26, 1855. + +She gave many directions about her burial; wanted as little parade as +possible. We were expecting Bro. and sister White. We had had a letter +from Bro. H. O. Nichols, saying they were expected there, and would be +likely to call on us about that time. Brn. Bates, Burr and Nichols were +written to, but circumstances prevented any of them from attending her +funeral. Bro. Hastings and others spoke, prayed, and sung, to the +edification of all. The hymns selected were, "Unconscious now in peaceful +sleep," and "She hath passed death's chilling billow." It has since been +said by the friends that they never attended a more interesting funeral. + +Annie looked very natural; more so than at any time after she came home. +It was remarked that a holy sweetness seemed to rest upon her +countenance, while her remains were with us. Annie had many favors shown +her. For the interest and friendship manifested, the friends have my +sincere love and gratitude. Though I ever thought much of them, they seem +doubly dear since her death, especially Bro. and sister White, with whom +she was so long connected. Annie loved them, and manifested an interest +for them, and the work there till the last. Bro. White made her the +generous donation of seventy-five dollars and other valuable presents, +during her sickness. + +It was a great satisfaction that I had Annie with me, and that I was +enabled to take care of her while she lived. Her complaints required an +uneven temperature of the room, which was unfavorable for me. I took one +cold after another, and was very much worn down at the time of her death. +I took an additional cold when she was buried, and have scarcely been +able to do anything since. I have thought sometimes, that what I had the +privilege of doing for Annie, was worth my life, if it must go; and if it +were not that I was still needed as a mother, I would now myself +willingly lay off the burden of life's duties and cares. + +_West Wilton, N. H., Sept. 16, 1855._ + + + + + POEMS, BY ANNIE R. SMITH. + + + + + The Friends of my Youth: Where are They? + + + Oh, where are they who once did tread + With me, in youth's sweet sunny morn, + The winding labyrinths that led + Where sweetest flowers the path adorn; + And gladsome birds send forth their lay, + And rivulets murmur on their way? + + Oh, where are all the glad and gay, + That filled the brightly-lighted hall; + With loving hearts to music's lay, + Responded to the joyous call? + With blooming cheeks and beaming eye, + They dreamed of joy and heaved no sigh. + + Some swept adown life's rolling tide, + By summer breezes borne along, + With prosperous gale they gently glide, + Like some sweet fairy boat of song; + And bask in pleasure's sunny fold, + And revel in their glittering gold. + + And some are rudely borne along, + By dark misfortune's chilly blast; + The storm and tempest coming on, + The sky with clouds is overcast, + Till weary of their toil and care, + They sink in darkness and despair. + + And some, whose sunny hopes have fled, + Like th' withered and deserted flower, + On which no tenderness is shed,-- + They sicken in a single hour; + And e'en in youth and beauty's bloom, + Are ushered to the silent tomb. + + And some in yonder graveyard sleep, + Beneath the ever verdant soil; + Where mortals ne'er are known to weep: + They rest from all their pain and toil; + Away from care, from sin set free, + They peaceful rest, O God, in Thee. + + A few are left to struggle on, + Through dangers that beset life's way; + To mourn that all the loved are gone, + To weep and struggle, and to pray, + That all in Heaven at last may meet, + And joy each other there to greet. + + + + + Ode to the Winds. + + + Sound on, sound on, ye whistling winds, + As though ye fain would seek + Some quiet rest ye cannot find, + In this cold world so bleak. + Sound on, sound on; ye bring to mind + The bright and joyful past; + The golden hours of sunny yore, + That were too bright to last. + + Sound on, sound on, ye whistling winds, + Like thee, 'mid bitter tears, + In vain I sigh for brighter days, + In other happier years. + Sound on, sound on; ye seem to tell + That all things here decay; + The brightest flowers the soonest oft + Will droop and pass away. + + Sound on, sound on, ye whistling winds; + Thy strange, mysterious voice + Seems like some spirit hovering near, + Bidding my heart rejoice. + Sound on, sound on; for oh! ye tell + Of a long, peaceful home, + Beyond this dark and fleeting world, + Where sorrows never come. + + Sound on, sound on, ye whistling winds; + Your moaning, solemn tone + Does with this heart so well accord, + So dreary, sad and lone. + Sound on, sound on; for oh! ye've power + To soothe each rising sigh, + And waft my spirit far away, + Where pleasures never die. + + + + + Lines + + Suggested by the Wreck of the Minot Ledge Lighthouse. + + + On the rock, a beacon lighted, + Shone upon the stormy wave; + There to guide the bark, benighted: + Home of those, the true and brave. + Clouds of wrath the skies are veiling, + Danger, wreck, and death are nigh; + Lone and wild, the sea-bird's wailing + As the storm-wind whistles by. + + Tempests rave--fierce roars the ocean, + Higher swells the angry foam; + Winds and waves in wild commotion, + Fearful rock their storm-tossed home. + Night of anguish, wo and sorrow, + Wrapt in midnight's pall of gloom, + Gleams no light upon the morrow, + Dark beneath a watery tomb. + + Hark! the bell is loudly ringing + With a deep, and solemn wail. + Death-like knells around are flinging, + In the wild, terrific gale. + Still, the beacon-light is flashing, + None could reach them from the shore. + Towering waves, in fury dashing, + They must sink to rise no more. + + Wrecks along the shore are lying, + On the heaving surges tossed; + Mournful winds and waves are sighing, + Ocean's requiem for the lost; + Mighty dome, by tempest shattered, + Billows o'er thee darkly sweep, + Treasure far more precious, scattered + In the bosom of the deep. + + Far beneath the rolling billow, + Sleep the noble, young and brave; + Ocean's coral bed their pillow, + And their shroud, the foamy wave; + Wreck or monument, may never + Point the fatal rock, swept bare; + But enshrined in memory, ever, + Faithful hearts that perished there. + + + + + Lines + + Addressed to a little Orphan Child. + + + Poor little orphan child! + I see thee happy now, + With glossy ringlets waving + O'er thy sunny brow; + With tender heart as light and free + As birds in summer air, + With beauty, grace, that well might vie + With rose and lily fair. + + Poor little orphan child! + The tears steal down my cheek, + For oh! how little dreamest thou + The world is cold and bleak; + How little knowest thou the toil, + The turmoil, care, and strife, + The tears, the sighs, that may beset + The orphan's path in life. + + Poor little orphan child! + 'Tis bitter hard to roam + In this cold, dark, unfeeling world, + Both friendless and alone, + Where friendship ends in selfish aims, + Lips smile but to deceive, + Unkindness mars the spirit's peace, + And leaves the heart to grieve. + + Poor little orphan child! + For thee is pained my heart; + Should sickness pale thy rosy cheek, + And light and hope depart,-- + Oh, who would then be near to bathe + The weary, aching head, + And twine around thee, arms of love, + And joy and gladness shed. + + Poor little orphan child! + Thou'lt miss a mother's care, + To watch thy youthful steps, + Thy little griefs to share; + No voice is like a mother's voice, + No look so sweet and mild, + No smile is like her loving smile, + Upon a darling child. + + Oh! ye who revel in your ease, + The orphan's cry should heed, + Nor with a cold indifference + Treat them in hour of need. + Ye know not of the anguish deep, + That rends their aching heart, + Or of the woe and misery + Your cold words may impart. + + Poor little orphan child! + May angels guide their way, + For there are thousand treacherous paths, + That lead the feet astray. + Sin comes in many a dazzling form,-- + Fearful the tempter's power, + Oh, God of love forbid thy fall, + In the dark, trying hour. + + Poor little orphan child! + Should tears e'er dim the eye, + And grief and sorrow fill the soul, + And friends no one be nigh; + There is a friend above, on whom + Cast all thy earthly care, + Who ne'er forsakes the fatherless, + But hears the orphan's prayer. + + Poor little orphan child! + I would not shade thy brow, + By telling thee of after years, + To make thee sorrow now. + Oh, no! in childish innocence + Play on with life and glee, + With dimpled cheek and joyous laugh, + So happy, pure and free. + + Poor little orphan child! + Blest be thy passage o'er + The ever changing sea of life, + To Canaan's peaceful shore. + There mayst thou safely land + Where sorrow ne'er will come, + To join thy loved--that happy band + In one eternal home. + + + + + Oh! Let me be on the Stormy Sea. + + + Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, + Where darksome clouds arise; + When the waters dash and the lightnings flash, + Along the dismal skies; + There I should be so wild and free. + Oh! let me roam, on the ocean wave + Oh! give me a home. + + Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, + When the tempests madly rave; + Where no voice is heard, save the wild sea bird, + As it skims o'er the foamy wave; + No strife and care would reach me there. + Then let me roam, on the ocean wave + Oh! give me a home. + + Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, + For there is the home of the brave; + We never fear when danger's near, + Tossed on the towering wave; + Boldly they sail through wind and gale. + There let me roam, on the ocean wave + Oh! give me a home. + + Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, + Where the raging billows bound; + Where the roaring surge and mournful dirge + Is ever heard around; + Where the wild winds sigh, as they whistle by. + Oh! there would I roam, on the ocean wave + Oh! give me a home. + + Oh! let me be on the stormy sea, + Far down in the briny deep; + On corals gay, myriads lay, + In their last silent sleep. + Beneath the wave, a wat'ry grave + They've found. No more they'll roam-- + 'Neath ocean's wave they've found a home. + + + + + The Exiled Prisoner. + + Lines occasioned by the Story of an Exile who died of + grief on meeting a former friend. + + + I met him in his gloomy cell, + Where all alone and sad, + He spent the darksome day and night + In homely vesture clad. + No golden sunlight ever threw + Its lustre o'er his room; + No gladsome voices ever cheered + Its dreariness and gloom. + + Oh! he was fair and beautiful, + With clustering auburn hair, + That waved in many a ringlet o'er + The brow of genius rare-- + The loved in his sweet native land, + The pride of his dear home, + Once he, who sat within these walls, + In iron fetters lone. + + I wept as I did on him look, + For we were friends in youth; + Together trod the selfsame path + Of wisdom and of truth; + Together roamed o'er hill and dale, + As happy, light, and free + As joyous birds in summer air, + In boyish pride and glee. + + Ah! strangely altered now his face, + Depicted with despair; + Yet still methought that I could trace + Some former beauty there. + Yet something of the light had gone + That flashed his raven eye, + And pallid cheek, and thin, white lip, + Told of full many a sigh. + + Oh! tell me, friend, in grief he cried, + About my joyful home, + And those bright, sunny fields o'er which + We used to sport and roam. + Oh! is the waterfall still there, + Wherein I used to play, + Without one thought of grief and care, + Through all the livelong day. + + And is my father, mother, there, + And brother, sister kind? + And do they know my hopeless lot, + In this dark cell confined? + Oh! could I see them but once more, + And press them to my breast, + And meet their sweet, forgiving smile, + My weary soul could rest. + + Ah! had I not too fondly loved, + I had not seen this day, + Apart from all that I hold dear, + Alone to waste away. + A rival came--with vilest art + Allured her from my side, + And triumphed in my loss, until + She found him false, and died. + + Sick of the world, I left my home, + Far from parental care; + I roved, a wild and thoughtless thing, + Exposed to every snare, + Till tossed on fortune's faithless sea, + I sought to drown my woe + In revelry and crime, that's brought + Me in this dungeon low. + + Oh! cruel Fate that bids me dwell + In this cold, living tomb! + Oh! mother, couldst thou see me here, + And know my deepest gloom, + Thou wouldst forgive thy erring son, + And heal his broken heart; + Repenting, thou wouldst soothe his grief, + And words of love impart. + + Upon his knees, his hands he clasped, + In agony he cried-- + We part! the past comes o'er my brain + Like an overwhelming tide; + 'Tis like a dark and troubled dream, + That fain I would forget-- + But oh! through all the day and night + Its horror haunts me yet. + + Ah! wildly now he gazed around + The cell; no more he said, + Save in some broken accents wild, + For reason now had fled. + I looked again--his noble form + Lay stretched upon the floor; + He gave one last, one bitter groan-- + The prisoner was no more. + + + + + The Clouds. + + + How beautiful the clouds, + The morning's purple clouds; + How sweet they calm reposing lie + In yonder deep blue azure sky, + Streaked with crimson pale and red, + Fair as violets in their bed; + Gliding, floating, moving ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + How beautiful the clouds, + The noontide's burning clouds; + Mountains of pure white driven snow, + In upper regions on they go; + Pillars of ever living light, + Piles of crystal gems as bright, + Gliding, moving, hurrying ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + How beautiful the clouds, + The dark and rolling clouds; + With tempest, storm, and fury crowned, + Where lightnings fiercely play around; + Terrific, grand, sublime, they rise + When pealing thunders rend the skies; + Whirling, heaving, rolling ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + How beautiful the clouds, + The golden sunset clouds; + Tinged with yellow, mellow light, + Warm, rich hues that gladden sight; + As sinks the wave in ocean's breast, + So fades the many-colored west; + Fading, passing, gliding ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + How beautiful the clouds, + The evening, moonlit clouds; + On tireless wings of snowy hue + They move through heaven's ethereal blue; + Like fairy forms of crystal light, + Arrayed in robes of silver white; + Gliding, floating, moving ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + And in our weary march, + The whirling, passing clouds + Are emblems of life's hurried way, + Swift passing down its fleeting day; + In smiles and tears the restless mind + Is ever seeking--ne'er to find-- + A resting place--but hurrying ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + Youth's hopes, oh! what are they, + But clouds of changing hue; + Sometimes they're tinged with golden light, + Beaming with softening beauty bright; + Like clouds they fade, they pass, they die, + And leave no trace upon the sky; + Fleeting, fading, passing ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + I'd be, when life shall wane, + Like white-winged clouds of even; + Through fields of endless day I'd roam, + And find me there a starry home; + Beyond this world, far, far, away, + To Heaven's own light I'd wing my way; + Through realms of bliss there roaming ever + Onward, onward, stopping never. + + + + + The Unchanged. + + + I saw her 'mid the birds and blossoms when a rosy laughing child, + Playing by the silver rivulet, joyous in its murmurings wild; + Now wandering o'er the sunny green with buoyant step and free, + In the mild and balmy breeze that fanned the flowery lee. + + In life's fair spring-time, when the heart is lightest, free from care, + When fancy spreads her pinions wide and soars on wings of air, + Earth's mantling robe, so brightly decked with rainbow-colored hue, + Came o'er the soul in visions soft as falls the pearly dew. + + The morn of youth was on her cheek when love her bosom thrilled, + With golden dreams of future bliss her gentle soul was filled-- + Unsullied by the world's cold strife, its darkness and untruth, + When in its tender infancy, the guileless love of youth. + + She thought the world could ne'er be lone while one might not depart, + Who was the worshiped idol of her young and trusting heart; + His dark eyes woke the flame within of soul-lit lustrous hue, + To be unquenched--the holy light of pure devotion true. + + Genius marked his lofty brow for wreathing chaplets fair, + And from the deeply-treasured fount of knowledge rich and rare, + She quaffed the crystal streams that flowed, with kind and fervent + heart, + As flowers will gather sweetness that may never more depart. + + And oft she gazed with rapture on that bright angelic face, + So radiant and beautiful with eloquence and grace; + His voice, like tones of music sweet, bound with a magic spell, + As gems of wisdom from his lips in heavenly accents fell. + + In fashion's brilliant halls, where gay alluring pleasures throng, + No flattering smiles could win her from her childhood's happy song; + When many a garland twined her brow and passion's voice soft fell, + She was true to him who knew not how she had loved so well. + + Ah! cruel fate that bids the shades of change with fleeting years, + Sad separation's bitter pang must dim with burning tears-- + Like some lone beacon's glimmering ray the star of hope shall be, + To guide the bark by tempest driven o'er life's dark, troubled sea. + + The cherished love of early years say not she can forget, + That springs in youth's fresh vernal prime, and with its tears are wet; + Its tender buddings crushed may be, and blighted its return, + Its wasted fragrance lingers still around its broken urn. + + When time shall fade youth's glowing charms, its joy and romance fled, + Love's purest flame is shining o'er the altar of the dead-- + Through desert paths and weary of life's ever-changing day, + With light and peace his memory shall pave her lonely way. + + I saw her in the moonlit vale, a lovely maiden's form, + Her spirit in illusions wrapped, her cheek with vigor warm; + Untouched by sorrow's withering hand, so pale, for hers were dreams + Of other years--that for the night had cast their halo beams. + + And may the silken tie so fond, unbroken e'er remain, + Bright angels hover round her way to shield till life shall wane; + Unchanging be the heart's first love, till in immortal bloom, + In yonder Paradise her home and rest beyond the tomb. + + + + + Lines + + Written on the Death of Lorenzo D. Upham. + + + Lamented youth, thy spirit now has fled, + Thy youthful form in earth's cold bosom lies. + Why art thou numbered with the early dead? + Who would not weep when one so lovely dies? + + Why wert thou thus cut down in manhood's bloom, + When life to thee was all a summer's day, + Consigned unto the dark and silent tomb, + Nought but a lump of cold and lifeless clay? + + And oft the mourner there doth go and weep, + And youthful friends shed many a bitter tear + For him who lies in his last, dreamless sleep, + For him they loved and ever held most dear. + + We miss thee, brother, in our youthful band, + Thy words of love, thy gentle accents sweet; + But thou hast left us in this dreary land, + No more shall we thy social presence greet. + + Thou wast a noble youth, the younger son, + Thy father's hope and solace in his years; + But short thy stay; ah! soon life's labor done, + Soon thou hast left a weary vale of tears. + + Yes; thou hast left a world of care and toil, + Where storms and tempests o'er our pathway rise, + Calmly to sleep beneath the verdant soil, + Till called triumphant to the upper skies. + + Then rest thee, brother, free from all thy pain, + Above thee bloom the rose and violet fair. + We would not wish thee back to earth again, + But let thee calmly, sweetly, slumber there. + + + + + To M. D. B. On the present of a pen. + + + Dear sister, words cannot express + To you my heartfelt thankfulness; + Or with what pleasure I behold + This precious gift--a pen of gold. + + I prize it more, while now I see + In it remembrance kind of me; + Which fills me with delight untold + In viewing my new pen of gold. + + And thee, at morn and evening tide, + As past the fleeting moments glide, + Shall I remember, while I hold + Within my grasp this pen of gold. + + With newer zeal I now would write, + Dispensing nought but truth and light; + And richer treasures fain unfold, + The products of my pen of gold. + + And when our weary task is done, + The conflict o'er, the victory won, + May we be found of finest mold, + As tried, refined, and pure as gold. + + + + + Be Cheerful. + + + Be cheerful! Be cheerful! + At the breaking of morn, + When the sun's gladd'ning rays + The earth shall adorn; + Be cheerful when noon + Shall its brightness display. + Be cheerful when eve + Ends the toil of the day, + For all nature is cheering + With harmonious voice; + All nature is bidding + Be glad and rejoice. + + Be cheerful! Be cheerful! + Whatever thy lot! + If trouble awaits thee, + Thy woes are forgot. + Be cheerful, and light + Thy path shall surround; + With cheerfulness let + Every moment be crowned, + For all nature is cheering + With harmonious voice, + All nature is bidding + Be glad and rejoice. + + Be cheerful! Be cheerful! + Let not the few days + That we spend on this earth + Be void of its lays. + Oft the ills we endure, + From the future we borrow; + Then be cheerful to-day-- + Think not of the morrow; + For all nature is cheering + With harmonious voice, + All nature is bidding + Be glad and rejoice. + + Be cheerful! Be cheerful! + In life's joyful spring, + When summer its beauties + And glories shall bring. + Be cheerful when autumn + Shall mantle in gloom, + When the winter of age + Brings near to the tomb; + For all nature is cheering + With harmonious voice, + All nature is bidding + Be glad and rejoice. + + + + + The Sister's Devotion. + + + There is no flower, brother, howe'er so sweetly blooming, + But it will fade in night; + No sunny sky with beams so bright illuming, + But clouds may shade its light, + But oh! there is a sister's love, + In sorrow's night unfading, + That clouds of earthborn care or woe + Ne'er will its light be shading. + + Chorus: + Oh! brother, then prize a sister's devotion, + Ever pure, unchanging, sincere, + Whose heart for thee beats with tender emotion, + And shareth each smile and each tear. + + The beaming eye, brother, lit bright with smiles enwreathing, + Tears may unbidden dim, + The soul of music's melody, sweet breathing, + Discordant strains may hymn. + But oh! there is a sister's voice + To cheer with kind words spoken; + Her hand may wake sweet strains again + From harp-strings that were broken. + + Chorus: Oh! brother, then prize-- + + Fame's starry hight, brother, howe'er its gems alluring, + Cold storms and tempests crown; + The form of genius fair may fall, enduring + The world's dark chilling frown. + But oh! there is a sister's heart, + Forever true, unshaken, + That ne'er grows cold, but closer clings, + When all else has forsaken. + + Chorus: Oh! brother, then prize-- + + Our golden dreams, brother, we so fondly cherish, + May change like morning's rays; + Youth's fairest joys and pleasures all may perish, + With years that pass away. + But oh! there is a sister's prayer, + That happy be our meeting, + Safe wafted o'er life's sea in peace, + Where time no more is fleeting. + + Chorus: Oh! brother, then prize-- + + + + + Trust Not, Love Not. + + + When the world is fair, entwining + Many a garland for thy brow, + When around thee wealth is shining, + Friendship's hand is near thee now. + But when clouds and storms shall gather + Round thy pathway rough and drear, + Few will cling as fond as ever, + Few will prove to thee sincere. + + Oh! if thou canst find the treasure, + Close the precious jewel bind; + Choicest blessing without measure, + Guardian angel--rare to find. + Speak or act, oh! coldly never, + Kindred spirits keenest feel; + Silver links the blow may sever; + Time the wound may never heal. + + Friendship's ties too oft are riven, + By the slightest word or deed; + Oh! trust not love's tokens given, + Lest thy heart with anguish bleed. + Trust not--hopes we fondly cherish, + Crushed and wounded leave the heart. + Love not--love's bright flowers perish, + Bloom to wither, then depart. + + Love's sweet strains, like music flowing, + Drink not deep their melting tone. + Eyes that now so gently glowing, + Beam so fondly in thine own-- + Ah! their light--it may deceive thee; + Flattering smiles, oh, heed them not, + For their coldness soon may grieve thee, + Soon thou mayest be forgot. + + Lavish not youth's tender feeling-- + Warm, confiding--keep it true, + Ere dark shadows o'er thee stealing, + Bitter tears thy cheek bedew. + Trust not--change may, ere the morrow, + Rob thy cheek of beauty's bloom; + Love not, it may bring the sorrow, + Haste thee to an early tomb. + + Solemn vows are lightly spoken, + Joys and pleasures fade and die; + Fondest, truest hearts are broken, + Golden dreams like phantoms fly. + Trust not--vows are falsely plighted-- + Lest thy rashness give thee pain; + Love not--"for its flowers once blighted, + They may never bloom again." + + + + + Proof Reader's Lament. + + + What news is this falls on my ear? + What next will to my sight appear? + My brain doth whirl, my heart doth quake-- + Oh, that egregious mistake! + + "Too bad! too bad!!" I hear them cry, + "You might have seen with half an eye! + Strange! passing strange!! how could you make + So plain, so blunderous a mistake!" + + Ah! where it happened, when and how, + This way or that, no matter now; + Myself from blame I cannot shake-- + For there it is, that _sad mistake_. + + Guilty, condemned, I trembling stand, + With pressing cares on every hand, + Without one single plea to make, + For leaving such a _bad mistake_. + + From morn till night, from night till morn, + At every step, weary, forlorn, + Whether I sleep, or whether wake, + I'm haunted still with _a mistake_. + + If right, no meed of praise is won, + No more than _duty_ then is done; + If wrong, then censure I partake, + Deserving such a gross mistake. + + How long shall I o'er this bewail? + "The best," 'tis said, "will sometimes fail;" + Must it then _peace_ forever break-- + Summed up, 'tis only _a mistake_. + + A smile is my delight to share, + A frown is more than I can bear; + How great the sacrifice I'd make, + If I could cease from a mistake. + + "I'll try," my motto yet shall be-- + Whate'er I hear, whate'er I see, + And for my own and others' sakes, + Look out betimes _for all mistakes_. + + + + + Lines to H. N. S. + + On the Reception of a Rose. + + + O sweet, lovely flower, + For me didst thou bloom + In a far distant bower, + My path to perfume? + For me wast thou nourished, + In that dear, quiet spot, + To tell when thou flourished, + I was not forgot? + + Thine image, loved sister, + In fancy I trace, + And joy in the vision, + To greet thine embrace; + But here I have never + Thy hand clasped in mine; + Yet round us forever, + Affection shall twine. + + And oft this fond token + Shall whisper to me, + Of friendship unbroken, + In remembrance of thee. + Its freshness may perish; + But ne'er can depart + Its fragrance I cherish + So deep in my heart. + + + + + Lines + + Composed by Annie R. Smith, the day but one before + her death. + + + Oh! shed not a tear o'er the spot where I sleep; + For the living and not for the dead ye may weep; + Why mourn for the weary who sweetly repose, + Free in the grave from life's burden of woes? + + I long now to rest in the lone, quiet tomb; + For the footsteps of Jesus have lightened its gloom. + I die in the hope of soon meeting again + The friends that I love, with Him ever to reign. + + + + + POEMS, BY URIAH SMITH. + + + + + The Willing and Obedient. + + "If ye be willing and obedient, ye shall eat the good of + the land." Isa. 1:19. + + + Whose is a willing heart, + Whose is a ready hand; + Joyful in Jesus' cause to start, + Joyful for him to stand? + Whose breast with ardor glows, + The conflict to begin; + Warring, but not with carnal foes, + Wrestling with every sin? + + Who when the cross appears, + Hasten its weight to bear; + Glad, though it be through thorns and tears, + The cross of Christ to share? + Who at stern duty's call, + Unbound by selfish will, + Meekly resign their earthly all, + Its bidding to fulfill? + + Who with unyielding feet, + When storms around them roar, + Shrink not the scorn and hate to meet + Which Christ their Saviour bore: + Deeming of higher worth, + Their Lord's reproaches now, + Than all the cankered gold of earth, + To which the worldlings bow? + + Whose is a willing heart? + And who obedient stand? + To them shall Heaven its joys impart, + To them the goodly land. + For them the City waits, + Unstained by woe or sin, + And as they come, the pearly gates + Shall ope to let them in. + + + + + Be Not Cast Down. + + + Tempted, tried, desponding one, + Why does darkness shade thy brow? + Is there no all-beaming sun + In the heavens above thee now? + + Is the cloud of radiant light, + Glowing round th' Eternal throne, + Shrouded in a pall of night, + Or in outer darkness gone? + + Is the fount of glory dried? + Are the gates of mercy closed? + Went there ever unsupplied, + Any who in God reposed? + + Has his arm grown short to save? + Heavy is his ear to hear? + Bids he any be a slave + To despair or doubt or fear? + + Then may we refuse to move, + When his word and mighty arm, + Weak and impotent shall prove, + To deliver us from harm. + + Then may we despondent be, + And in him refuse to trust, + When his throne and majesty + Both shall crumble to the dust. + + Has not help on One been laid + Strong to save and set us free? + And is there no promise made, + In his name, of victory? + + Then in Jesus let us trust; + On him stay our troubled mind: + Not presume; for God is just: + Nor despair; for he is kind. + + + + + Be Faithful. + + Tune--"Be Kind to the Loved Ones at Home." + + + O brother, be faithful! soon Jesus will come, + For whom we have waited so long; + Oh! soon we shall enter our glorious home, + And join in the conqueror's song. + O brother, be faithful! for why should we prove + Unfaithful to him who has shown + Such deep, such unbounded and infinite love-- + Who died to redeem us his own. + + O brother, be faithful! the city of gold, + Prepared for the good and the blest, + Is waiting its portals of pearl to unfold, + And welcome thee into thy rest; + Then brother, prove faithful! not long shall we stay, + In weariness here and forlorn; + Time's dark night of sorrow is wearing away, + We haste to the glorious morn. + + O brother, be faithful! He soon will descend, + Creation's Omnipotent King, + While legions of angels his chariot attend, + And palm-wreaths of victory bring. + O brother, be faithful! and soon thou shalt hear + Thy Saviour pronounce the glad word, + Well done, faithful servant, thy title is clear + To enter the joy of thy Lord. + + O brother, be faithful! eternity's years + Shall tell for thy faithfulness now, + When bright smiles of gladness shall scatter thy tears, + And a coronet gleam on thy brow. + O brother, be faithful! the promise is sure, + That waits for the faithful and tried; + To reign with the ransomed, immortal and pure, + And ever with Jesus abide. + + + + + Lines + + To J. T. and M. T. Lane, on the death of their little Child, + Francis M. Lane, July 25, 1858. + + + Still reigns the tyrant Death in sable power; + Sorrow and mourning wait at his command; + For tender bud as well as blooming flower, + Fades 'neath the touch of his relentless hand. + + And hath his summons to your hearts been spoken? + Hath his dark shadow crossed your threshold o'er? + Hath he links of fond affection broken, + And borne a loved one from this mortal shore? + + So hath a floweret from your pathway faded; + A bright star shining o'er you set in gloom; + Bright rays of hope are from your vision shaded + By the dark curtain of the silent tomb. + + 'Tis well to weep: stay not the bitter tears + If thus the burdened heart may find relief; + For this dark earth hath been six thousand years + A vale of woe, a charnel-house of grief. + + Know then that here where dearest forms have perished, + There's nothing true on which our love to shed; + Not where death reigns can hopes of bliss be cherished, + Which may not wither 'neath his icy tread. + + But ah! there is land whose shores are nearing; + The ills of earth its soil shall never bear; + Of that bright world there stands this promise cheering: + Death finds no entrance--pain no victims there. + + To that fair land be now your footsteps tending; + Fix heart and treasure on that blissful shore, + Where friends shall re-unite in joy unending, + Nor taste the pangs of separation more. + + + + + Passed Away. + + + Passed away from earth forever, + Free from all its cares and fears, + She again will join us never + While we tread this vale of tears; + For the turf is now her pillow, + And she sleeps among the dead; + While the cypress and the willow + Wave above her lowly bed. + There she slumbers, calmly slumbers, + With the silent, peaceful dead. + + With what grief and anguish riven, + Should we see the loved depart, + If there were no promise given, + Which could soothe the wounded heart! + If the chains with which death binds them, + Ne'er again should broken be; + And his prison which confines them, + Ne'er be burst to set them free; + If forever there to leave them, + Were our hopeless destiny. + + But a glorious day is nearing, + Earth's long-wished-for jubilee; + When creation's King appearing, + Shall proclaim his people free; + When upborne on Love's bright pinion, + They shall shout from land and sea, + Death! where is thy dark dominion! + Grave! where is thy victory! + Then we'll meet her, gladly meet her, + Where we'll never parted be. + + + + + Ode. + + Written for the anniversary exercises of the Golden Branch + Society of Phillips' Exeter Academy, June, 1850. + + + Borne on in the swift course of time, + The hour again is here, + Which calls from us a sad adieu, + And swells the parting tear. + We'd fain the golden hours prolong, + Which have so quickly past; + We'd fain delay the farewell song, + And bid our union last. + + But tho' we grieve that some so soon + Must leave our social band, + We would not have you linger here, + 'Gainst duty's high demand. + But, rather, we would bid you forth + Into the field of life, + To battle for immortal names, + Like heroes in the strife. + + Advance, then, in the grand career, + So nobly here begun; + Aim to accomplish life's great end, + Until life's course is run. + May fortune smile upon your path, + And all your efforts bless; + And may her arm be ever near + To crown you with success. + + And, as you tread your onward course, + May virtue guide your way; + And wreath of fame adorn your brow, + Which ne'er shall fade away, + "Excelsior" will lead you on + To posts of honor high. + And call to mind our "holy bond," + Of "Friendship's Sacred Tie." + + And may you prove, while on you press + With banner wide unfurled, + An honor to your native land, + A blessing to the world. + And when at last, life's work is done, + This recompense you'll have, + The true and lasting fame that waits + The Great, the Good, the Brave. + + + + + Ode. + + Written for the anniversary exercises of the Golden Branch + Society of Phillips' Exeter Academy, June, 1851. + + + We've met again within these halls-- + These halls to mem'ry dear, + Where scenes of harmony and peace + Have filled the by-gone year. + But e'en while recollections fond + Still cling around the heart, + One bitter thought disturbs our joy: + For we have met to part. + + Full well we know, our path through life + Can ne'er be always bright; + The sweetest hours to mortals given + Are swiftest in their flight. + Then let us follow duty's call, + With calm, undaunted brow, + Nor weakly chide the stern behest, + Which separates us now. + + Ye whom this consecrated spot + Still sheds its blessings o'er, + Use well the moments as they pass, + For they return no more. + Here you must gird your armor on, + Survey the field of life, + And then go forth to earn a name, + Or perish in the strife. + + Great men have been before us here, + Whose fame the wide world knows; + _Excelsior_ still shines for us-- + The star by which they rose. + They're shedding now a mighty spell + On all the paths we tread; + On living brows bloom laurel wreaths, + While cypress mourns the dead. + + Then let us form the high resolve + To make our lives sublime, + And mark a clear and noble track + Upon the sands of time, + And bring fresh honors to the list + Of men and heroes all, + Whose power is felt from pole to pole-- + The sons of Phillips' Hall. + + + + + I'm Coming Home Again. + + + The wheels of time roll ceaseless on, + The moments glide away; + The hours but tell us they are gone, + Nor lingers long the day. + So that from friends, and home, away + I shall not long remain, + For soon the flying wings of time + Will bear me home again. + + I have a home--oh! blessed thought!-- + Which oft I call to mind; + Which oft a healing balm has brought, + And left dull care behind. + From this dear home, though far away, + I cannot long remain, + The ties of friendship, sure and strong, + Will bring me home again. + + In fancy's vision oft I see + Friendship's extended hand, + And for a moment seem to be, + One in your happy band; + But recollection suffers not + These visions to remain, + And so to see you face to face, + I'm coming home again. + + The boisterous waves roll rough around + My thin and slender bark; + While clouds arise, and storms resound, + And all is drear and dark. + But out upon the swelling tide + I shall not long remain, + For I'm coming into harbor-- + I'm coming home again. + + + + + Charity. + + + There is a way more excellent, so traced the sacred pen, + Than e'en to share the precious gifts which God vouchsafes to men; + It is to draw for every act our motive from above, + And make our whole of mortal life a holocaust of love. + + For though the mind with all the wealth of human lore expand, + Though e'en an angel's glowing words we hold at our command, + If in each thought and word expressed, no charity abound, + 'Twill but be like the tinkling brass, the cymbal's hollow sound. + + And though all knowledge we possessed, all mysteries could prove, + Had faith to bid the rugged mount to yonder sea remove, + If charity dwell not within, the all-inspiring power, + We are but cyphers in the scale, the beings of an hour. + + And though our goods we freely give to meet the sufferer's need, + And yield our bodies to the stake, the fiery flame to feed; + If charity prompt not these acts, so fair to human sight, + It profits nothing in His eyes who reads the heart aright. + + For charity is but the name for every heavenly grace; + With human weakness long she bears, to anger ne'er gives place; + Her features fair with kindness glow, no envy stirs her breast, + Nor e'er by boastful acts or words is inward pride expressed. + + She ever seeketh others' good, regardless of her own; + She thinks no evil, speaks no ill, by act, or look, or tone; + Not in iniquity, but truth, doth she her comfort take, + And bears, believes, endures, and hopes, all things, for Jesus' sake. + + Hail, holy Charity! bright daughter of the skies! + An angel from the ruins of our once fair paradise, + Still lingering with our fallen race to point our feet above, + And show us what a Heaven will be, where all is wrought in love. + + In the dark places of the earth thy footsteps may we trace, + By fruitful fields and verdant plains where once were desert wastes. + The orphan rises up with joy thy coming steps to bless, + And widows, smiling through their tears, their grateful thanks express. + + To clothe the naked, feed the poor, bestowing joy for pain; + To bring relief to those who long in suffering have lain; + To cause the sad, despondent heart to sing aloud for joy-- + These are thy works, sweet Charity, thy holy, blest employ. + + We welcome thee, O Heavenly grace! be thou our constant guide; + Let thy sweet spirit in our hearts forevermore abide. + Help its to scatter deeds of love in all the paths we tread; + For blessing thus our fellow-men, we honor Christ our head. + + + + + Lines + + On the death of William M. Smith. + + + Dark is the hour when Death prevails, + And triumphs o'er the just-- + A painful void within the breast, + When dust goes back to dust; + And solemn is the pall, the bier, + That bears them from our presence here. + + But there's a bright, a glorious hope, + That scatters death's dark gloom; + It cheers the saddened spirits up, + It gilds the Christian's tomb; + It brings the resurrection near, + When those we love shall re-appear. + + Then mourn we not as those whose hopes + With fleeting life depart; + For we have heard a voice from Heaven, + To every stricken heart: + Blest are the dead, forever blest, + Who from henceforth in Jesus rest. + + With kind regard the Lord beholds + His saints when called to die; + And precious in his holy sight + Their sacred dust shall lie, + Till all these storms of life are o'er, + And they shall rise to die no more. + + A few more days and we shall meet + The loved, whose toil is o'er, + And plant with joy our bounding feet + On Canaan's radiant shore; + Where, free from all earth's cares and fears, + We'll part no more through endless years. + + + + + The New Year, 1871. + + + Why hail we thus each new-born year, + With voice of joy and scenes of mirth? + What room for gay and festive cheer, + While woe and darkness span the earth? + While sin and suffering, pain and death, still throw, + Their baleful shadow over all below? + + Earth trembles at the cannon's roar, + War's murderous visage scours the plain; + Its fairest spots are drenched with gore, + Its fruitful fields are piled with slain. + And what are all these slow-revolving years, + But funeral pageants of distress and tears? + + Contagions spread their wings of pall, + Fierce tempests rage with blasting breath, + And earthquake throes, engulfing all, + Make short and sure the way to death. + No peace, no safety, no enduring cheer, + To him who builds his hopes and treasures here. + + Yet glad we hail each New Year's morn; + For from the great high throne of Heaven + A royal fiat forth has gone, + A glorious word to earth is given: + Behold, says He who looks creation through, + Where sin has marred my works, I make anew. + + New earth to smile before his face, + New heavens in crystal beauty dressed, + New years to run a guiltless race, + New joys for each immortal breast, + New flowers upspringing from the sinless sod, + New waters sparkling from the throne of God. + + New bodies for these feeble forms, + New life from e'en the moldering tomb, + New skies unrent by raging storms, + New beauty, new unfading bloom, + New scenes the eternal era to begin, + Of peace for war, of righteousness for sin. + + Speed then away, O tardy years! + Fly quickly, hours that intervene! + Groaning we wait the time when tears + Shall be but things that once have been. + Dawn, thou blest morn, so long in promise given, + The glorious glad New Year of God and Heaven. + + + + + Almost to the Beautiful Land. + + + Almost to the beautiful land! + This be the watchword to cheer thee, + When o'er thee dark tempests expand, + And dangers and trials are near thee. + Then from this perilous way, + Look up to the glory before us, + Which with unglimmering ray, + Like a bright bow of promise bends o'er us. + Only a few more seasons + Of watching and weariness here, + Ere the day-star arises, + Ere the day-dawn appear. + + Almost to the beautiful land! + Where the pilgrim may rest him forever, + And bask on the golden strand + Of the crystal and flowing river. + Where the fadeless crown awaiteth, + For the cross which here we bore; + And the glory ne'er abateth, + And sorrow is known no more. + Only a few more efforts + To toil up the rugged hight, + Ere we reach the glorious summit, + And faith is lost in sight. + + Almost to the beautiful land! + Shall we grow weary then? Never! + Lift up the faltering hand, + Strengthen the feeble endeavor. + Only a few more mornings + Allotted to laboring here, + Only a few more warnings + To fall on the sinner's ear; + Only a few more conflicts + To wage in the struggle of life, + Then the sweet victory cometh, + That endeth the toilsome strife. + + Almost to the beautiful land! + Shall we lose courage now? Never! + Bold in the conflict stand, + Faint not in spirit nor waver. + Woe now to him who shall suffer + Earth's tinsel to blind his eyes; + Woe unto him who fainteth, + In sight of the glorious prize. + Up! for the moments hasten, + And the King is himself at hand: + Nerve thee with this glad watchword-- + Almost to the beautiful land! + + + + + "They Shall be Mine." + + Mal. 3:16, 17. + + + They shall be mine in the coming day, + When I shall gather my chosen ones; + When the Lord shall rise to the spoil and prey, + And the year of Zion's redemption comes. + They shall be mine! the chosen few + Who dare to honor my holy name, + Who yield their hearts to their Maker, true, + And bear his cross nor heed the shame, + And turn not back for the scoffers' boasts-- + They shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts. + + They shall be mine in the fearful hour + When heaven shall part as a shattered scroll; + And earth shall reel from Jehovah's power + And death shall seize on the sinner's soul; + Then will the Lord to his servants bring + A crown for the cross which here they bore; + And loud their shouts of joy will ring; + And then shall be heard and feared no more + The critic's sneer, and the scoffer's boasts, + When saints shall be owned by the Lord of hosts. + + They shall be mine in whom alone + Is power to save and to destroy; + And as one spares his only son, + So will I spare my people's joy. + When the treach'rous hopes of the wicked flee, + And pestilence wastes the sons of men, + My servants true shall find, in me, + A refuge and a shelter then; + And skeptics all shall cease their boasts + In terror for the Lord of hosts. + + Then who would shrink from the lowly band, + Who make their peace with the King of kings? + He holds the worlds in his mighty hand, + He rules o'er all created things; + His arm alone can bear us up + When earth is drinking her dregs of woe; + His mercy alone is ground for hope, + His chosen only will safety know-- + Ah! then who cares for the scoffer's boasts, + If he may be owned by the Lord of hosts. + + In that dread day, when the proud and great + For rocks and mountains shall vainly call, + And kings and nobles, in high estate, + Shall be robed alike in a funeral pall; + When the Judge appears in the parting sky, + And the angel-reapers from glory come + To bear the good to their realms on high, + And all thy saints are gathered home, + From the isles afar, and the distant coasts-- + Let me be thine, O Lord of hosts! + + + + + The Marriage Supper of the Lamb. + + Tune--Tyrolese Evening Hymn. + + + Come, come, come, + Come to the marriage feast + Prepared for saints above; + The Lord now bids his guests + To the banquet-room of love. + Oh! why should the tinseled toys + Of this earth allure us here, + While pure, immortal joys, + Wait us in a happier sphere. + + Chorus--Come, come, come, + Come to the marriage feast, + Prepared for saints above; + The Lord now bids his guests + To the banquet-room of love. + + Come, come, come, + Soon will the day be o'er, + And hope's last hour be gone; + And mercy's voice no more + The day of grace prolong. + Life yet we may secure; + And the warning note is given, + Make now your title sure + To a lasting home in Heaven. + + Come, come, come, + The weary pilgrim there + "Lays staff and sandals down" + A conqueror's palm to bear, + And an angel's glittering crown. + Then all the scoffs we've borne, + While this gloomy vale we've trod, + "To lasting joys shall turn," + In the city of our God. + + + + + The Lord Will Come. + + + Tell me the Lord will come, + That he will soon appear; + This world is not my home, + I have no treasure here. + The hope of joys that soon shall be + Is what alone can comfort me. + + Tell me the Lord will come-- + I love the cheering sound; + There's hope and joy and peace + In that sweet promise found; + For then our ills, whate'er our lot, + Will all be gone, and all forgot. + + Tell me the Lord will come, + 'Tis music in my ears; + I would not longer roam + In this dark vale of tears, + Where tempests gather o'er our way, + And darkness hides the light of day. + + Tell me the Lord will come; + In that victorious hour, + The dark and silent tomb + Must yield its gloomy power; + For he shall call his slumbering dead, + Forever from their dusty bed. + + Tell me the Lord will come, + He whom our souls do love, + To take his exiles home + To their own land above: + In those bright mansions of the blest, + Is where alone our souls can rest. + + Ay, soon the Lord will come! + We are not left forlorn, + Without some cheering tone, + Some promise of the morn; + Some token from our absent Friend, + That soon our pilgrimage will end. + + Ay, soon the Lord will come! + He will not suffer long + The triumph of our foes, + The reign of sin and wrong. + With courage then still breast the storm, + For God has spoken and will perform. + + Yea, soon the Lord will come, + And glad deliverance bring, + And crown with lasting joy + All who have honored him. + When heaven and earth abashed shall flee + The glories of his majesty. + + + + + INDEX. + + + + + POEMS BY REBEKAH SMITH. + + + + + Page. + All Trials Cease, 25 + Always Rejoicing, 63 + Appeal to the Sinner, 87 + Baptism, 14 + Brother, Live, 47 + Christian Love, 6 + Christian Submission, 50 + Condense, 48 + Deny Thyself, 13 + Depart from Sin, 16 + Despair of the Lost, 15 + Divine Love, 85 + Domestic Afflictions, 59 + Dying Words, 21 + Early Recollections, 90 + Emptiness of Earth, 94 + False Fame and True, 78 + For a Gathering of the Aged, 93 + God, the Comforter, 70 + Go Forward, 44 + Have Mercy on Yourselves, 56 + Home for the Weary, 40 + It was True, 11 + Life's Conflict, 5 + Lines on the Death of Annie R. Smith, 30 + Lines on the Death of my Husband, 36 + Lines Read at a Gathering of Old People, 35 + Lines to a Mother, 34 + Live for God, 66 + Look up, 37 + Love not the World, 7 + My Sheep Hear my Voice, 68 + No Resting Here, 12 + Old, but Young, 17 + Overcome and Live, 53 + Overcoming Sin, 38 + Passing the Gate, 18 + Preparation for Heaven, 8 + Return unto the Lord, 80 + Safety in the Lord, 82 + Submission, 9 + Sustaining Grace, 43 + The Advent, 57 + The Bond of Peace, 49 + The Christian's Confidence, 92 + The Christian's Desire, 60 + The Christian's Triumph, 95 + The Circle Broken, 91 + The Coming Day, 58 + The Darkness of Despair, 73 + The Enemy's Power, 41 + The Health Institute, 84 + The Hour of Judgment, 75 + The Last Message of Mercy, 54 + The Latter Rain, 74 + The Love of Many is Waxed Cold, 88 + The Race and Warfare, 72 + The Remnant Church, 77 + The Slave of Appetite, 22 + The Warfare, 61 + The Work of Reform, 65 + The Vanity of Earth, 20 + They who Love the Law, 69 + To Aaron A. Smith, 27 + To Ellena Boutwell, 26 + To My Mother, 31 + Response, 33 + To Samuel, 27 + Trust, 46 + Trust all to God, 19 + We Love, 55 + Where is Thy God? 69 + Who is without Fault, 51 + Why Art Thou Cast Down, 45 + Will You be a Pilgrim, 39 + Worldly Sorrow, 71 + + + + + Brief Sketch of the Life, Last Sickness and Death of Annie R. + Smith, 97 + + + + + POEMS BY ANNIE R. SMITH. + + + + + Page. + Be Cheerful, 124 + Lines composed the day but one before her death, 130 + Lines on the Death of Lorenzo D. Upham, 122 + Lines on the Wreck of the Minot Ledge L'thouse, 109 + Lines to an Orphan Child, 111 + Lines to H. N. S., 129 + Ode to the Winds, 108 + Oh! Let me be on the Stormy Sea, 113 + Proof Reader's Lament, 128 + The Clouds, 117 + The Exiled Prisoner, 114 + The Friends of my Youth, 107 + The Sister's Devotion, 125 + The Unchanged, 119 + To M. D. B., 123 + Trust Not, Love Not, 127 + + + + + POEMS BY URIAH SMITH. + + + + + Page. + Almost to the Beautiful Land, 145 + Anniversary Ode, 1850, 136 + Anniversary Ode, 1851, 138 + Be Faithful, 133 + Be not Cast Down, 132 + Charity, 140 + I'm Coming Home Again, 139 + Lines on the Death of F. M. Lane, 134 + Lines on the Death of Wm. M. Smith, 142 + Passed Away, 135 + The Lord Will Come, 149 + The Marriage Supper of the Lamb, 148 + The New Year, 1871 143 + The Willing and Obedient, 131 + They Shall be Mine, 146 + + + + + Transcriber's Notes + + +--Silently corrected a spelling and punctuation in several places, where + it was inconsistent with usage, and where the intent was obvious. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Rebekah Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** + +***** This file should be named 34752.txt or 34752.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/7/5/34752/ + +Produced by Heather Clark, Stephen Hutcheson, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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