When the heart is sore smitten by sorrow,
And the bosom is darksome and drear,
And when bright hope no longer may borrow
A smile from the future to cheer;
And the eye that would gaze on the morrow,
Is constrain'd to gaze on through a tear-
Even then there's a hope that can brighten
The soul in its darksome abode,
That can dry up its sorrow, and lighten
The weight of its wearisome load:
"Tis the hope which no joy can heighten,
That leads it to trust in its God.
Though the world to our griefs may be ever
Disdainful, unkind, and unjust;
And mankind may be eager to sever
The links of our holier trust;
And the mighty may daily endeavour
To tread our torn hearts in the dust,
Still thy presence, Lord, cannot be taken
From those that all faithful will be:
Then why should our spirits be shaken?
And why should we languish to flee?
When we know we are never forsaken,
In the midst of our troubles, by Thee.
If the nation-feeding corn
Thriveth under iced snow;
If the small bird on the thorn
Useth well its guarded sloe;
Bid thy cares thy comforts double,
Gather fruit from thorns of trouble.-E. Elliott.
In the time of grief and trouble,
Then we call upon the Lord,
And he hears our supplication,
Ever faithful to his word;
But when o'er the trouble passeth,
As a cloud that hid the sun,
We forget the hand that raised us,
Careless of the blessing won.
SOME trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.-Psalm xx. 7.
O my God, I trust in Thee: let me not be ashamed.-Psalm xxv. 2.
Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.-Psalm xxxvii. 5.
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.-Proverbs, iii. 5.
BUT, O, the soul, that never dies
At once it leaves the clay;
Ye thoughts pursue it where it flies,
And track its wondrous way.
Up to the courts where angels dwell,
It mounts triumphant there;
Or devils plunge it down to hell,
In infinite despair.
And must my body faint and die?
And must this soul remove?
O for some guardian angel high,
To bear it safe above!
Jesus, to Thy dear faithful hand,
My naked soul I trust;
And my flesh waits for Thy command,
To drop into the dust.
Backsliding Israel, hear the voice
Of thy forgiving God;
Nor force such goodness to exert
The terrors of the rod.
Thus saith the Lord, "My mercy flows,
An unexhausted stream;
And after all its millions saved,
Its sway is still supreme.
Own but the follies thou hast done,
And mourn thy sins in dust,
And soon thy trembling heart shall learn
To hope, and love, and trust.
Men safelier trust to Heaven than to themselves
When least themselves, in the mad whirl of crowds,
Where folly is contagious, and, too oft,
Even wise men leave their better sense at home,
To chide and wonder at them when returned.
Frail children of dust,
And feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust,
Nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender,
How firm to the end!
Our Maker-Defender,
Redeemer, and Friend.
O measureless might!
Ineffable love!
While angels delight
To hymn Thee above,
The humbler creation,
Though feeble their lays,
With true adoration,
Shall lisp to Thy praise.
Do good, shun evil: live not thou
As if at death thy being died,
Nor error's syren voice allow
To draw thy steps from truth aside;
Look to thy journey's end-the grave!
And trust in Him whose arm can save.-Moir.
Then shall, gorgeous as a gem,
Shine thy mount, Jerusalem;
Then shall in the desert rise
Fruits of more than Paradise;
Earth by angel feet be trod,
One great garden of her God;
Till are dried the martyr's tears
Through a glorious thousand years.
Now, in hope of Him, we trust
Earth to earth, and dust to dust.
We see no more in thy pure skies,
How soft, O God! the sunset dies:
How every coloured hill and wood
Seems melting in the golden flood:
Yet, by the precious memories won
From bright hours, now for ever gone,
Father, o'er all Thy works we know
Thou still art shedding beauty's glow;
Still touching every cloud and tree
With glory, eloquent of Thee;
Still feeding all Thy flowers with light,
Though man hath barred it from our sight.
We know Thou reignest, the unchanging One, All-just! And bless Thee still, with free and boundless trust.
O let my trembling soul be still,
While darkness veils this mortal eye,
And wait Thy wise, Thy holy will:
Wrapp'd yet in fears and mystery,
I cannot, Lord! Thy purpose see!
Yet all is ruled-since ruled by Thee.
When mounted on Thy clouded car,
Thou send'st Thy darker spirits down,
I can discern Thy light afar,
Thy light sweet beaming through Thy frown; And should I faint a moment-then
I think of Thee-and smile again,
So, trusting in Thy love, I tread
The narrow path of duty on;
What though some cherished joys are fled! What though some flattering dreams are gone!
Yet purer, brighter joys remain,
Why should my spirit then complain?
For now in truth I find
My Father all His promises hath kept;
He comforts those who here in sadness wept.
Eyes to the blind
Thou art, O God! Earth I no longer see,
Yet trustfully my spirit looks to Thee.-Mrs. Neal.
Oh, yet we trust that, somehow, good
Will be the final goal of all,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete.
That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
Is shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.
Behold! we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last, far off, at last to all,
And every winter change to spring.
So runs my dream:-but what am I?
An infant crying in the night;
An infant crying for the light;
And with no language but a cry.
In patience, then, possess thy soul,
Stand still!-for while the thunders roll,
Thy Saviour sees thee through the gloom,
And will to thy assistance come;
His love and mercy will be shown
To those who trust in Him alone.
Some in chariots, some in horses,
We in God Jehovah trust;
And, while He our sure resource is,
They are fallen in the dust:
Save, Jehovah, save and hear us,
King of glory, King of might;
When we call, be ever near us,-
Even for Thy servants fight.
Oft, alas! we make our boast
In the strength of armed host:
Creatures frail in whom we trust,
What are they but ashes-dust?
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