Where the wave murmurs not,
Where the gust eddies not,
Where the stream rushes not,
Where the cliff shadows not,
Where the wood darkens not,
I would not be!
Bright tho' the heavens were,
Rich tho' the flowers there,
Sweet tho' the fragrant air,
And all as Eden fair,
Yet as a dweller there,
I would not be!
O wave, and breeze, and rill, and rock, and wood,
Was it not God Himself that called you GOOD?
--_Horatius Bonar._
"Servant of God, well done,
Rest from thy loved employ;
The battle fought, the vict'ry won,
Enter thy Master's joy."
The voice at midnight came,
He started up to hear;
A mortal arrow pierced his frame,
He fell--but felt no fear.
Tranquil amidst alarms,
It found him on the field,
A veteran slumbering on his arms,
Beneath his red-cross shield.
The pains of death are past,
Labor and sorrow cease;
And, life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ, well done!
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.
--_James Montgomery._