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._