By the help of God, I
am resolved to join them. The Lord is blessedly with, me this evening."
TO MY HONOURED FATHER
ENTERING ON HIS EIGHTY-EIGHTH YEAR.
Bending with the weight of years,
See the hoary headed saint,
Rise above tormenting fears;
Suffer, but without complaint,
Ready, as a shock of corn,
For the Paradise above;
Golden fruits his age adorn,--
Fruits of holiness, and love.
Though the outward man decay,
Inward strength is daily given;
Nothing can his soul dismay,
Succoured by the God of heaven.
He, the wise man's laurel, wears;
In the path of wisdom found,
Lo! his hoary head appears
With unearthly glory crowned.
Borne on time's untiring wing,
Homeward fast his spirit flies;
Now the city of the King,
Flames upon his longing eyes.
Brighter, as the clouds recede,
Blaze its walls of spotless white;
Deeper, from the throne proceed,
Dazzling floods of purer light.
Every birthday, nearer hies
That unknown but welcome hour;
When the saint in triumph cries,
"I, through Christ, am conqueror."
"I went, by request, to visit a person who has long been confined
to her bed. She knows something of God; but ah! how slight is
the knowledge of even, professing Christians! After reading, and
conversing with her, I proposed prayer; but the master of the house
sat still. When we arose from our knees, I spoke freely and plainly to
him of his sinful condition.
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