When friends to Emmaus bend their course,
He joins, although He holds their eyes;
Or, shouldst thou feel some fever's force,
He takes thy hand, He bids thee rise.

Or, on a voyage, when calms prevail,
And prison thee upon the sea,

He walks the wave, He wings the sail,
The shore is gained, and thou art free.

XXVIII.

8.

JAMES AND JOHN.

Two brothers freely cast their lot,
With David's royal Son;

The cost of conquest counting not,

They deem the battle won.

Brothers in heart, they hope to gain

An undivided joy,

That man may one with man remain,
As boy was one with boy.

Christ heard; and willed that James should fall

First prey of Satan's rage;

John linger out his fellows all,

And die in bloodless age.

Now they join hands once more above
Before the Conqueror's throne;

Thus GOD grants prayer; but in His love
Makes times and ways His own.

"Whither I go, thou canst not follow Me now, but thou shalt follow Me afterwards."

DID we but see,

When life first opened, how our journey lay
Between its earliest and its closing day;

Or view ourselves, as we one time shall be,

Who strive for the high prize, such sight would break The youthful spirit, though bold for JESUS' sake.

*

But Thou, dear LORD!

Whilst I traced out bright scenes which were to come, Isaac's pure blessings, and a verdant home,

Didst spare me, and withhold thy fearful word; Willing me year by year, till I am found

A pilgrim pale, with Paul's sad girdle bound.

PROVIDENCES.

XXX.

GUARDIAN ANGELS.

ARE these the tracks of some unearthly Friend,
His foot-prints, and his vesture-skirts of light,

Who, as I talk with men, conforms aright
Their sympathetic words, or deeds that blend
With my hid thought ;— -or stoops him to attend

My doubtful-pleading grief;-or blunts the might

Of ill I see not;-or in dreams of night Figures the scope in which what is will end?

Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I call

That vision real; for to the thoughtful mind
That walks with Him, He half unveils His face ;
But when on common men such shadows fall,
These dare not make their own the gifts they find,
Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace.

d.

XXXI.

WARNINGS.

(For Music.)

WHEN Heaven sends sorrow,

Warnings go first,

Lest it should burst
With stunning might
On souls too bright

To fear the morrow.

Can science bear us

To the hid springs

Of human things?
Why may not dream,

Or thought's day gleam,
Startle, yet cheer us?

Are such thoughts fetters,

While faith disowns

Dread of earth's tones,

Recks but Heaven's call,

And on the wall,

Reads but Heaven's letters?

d.