OH SPIRIT, FREED FROM BONDAGE.

MARY HOWITT.

O'

H Spirit, freed from bondage,
Rejoice, thy work is done!
The weary world is 'neath thy feet,
Thou, brighter than the sun!

Arise, put on thy garments,
Which the redeemed win!
Now sorrow hath no part in thee,
Thou sanctified from sin!

Awake and breathe the living air,
Of our celestial clime!

Awake to love that knows no change,
Thou, who hast done with time!

Awake, lift up thy joyful eyes,

See, all heaven's host appears;
And be thou glad exceedingly,

Thou who hast done with tears!

Awake! ascend! thou art not now
With those of mortal birth,-
The living God hath touched thy lips,
Thou who hast done with earth!

SWEET MUST IT BE TO DWELL.

WEET must it be to dwell secure
From sinful stain, from thought impure,
No wandering footstep to retrace,
No mourning for the Saviour's face :
And this our happy lot shall be
When we have crossed the crystal sea.

How oft the struggling spirit tries
For blest communion with the skies;
How oft we pray that we may bear
Christ's perfect image, even here;
And O, like Jesus we shall be
When we have crossed the crystal sea.

A

They who have safely gone before,
Whose feet grow weary never more,
Receive in that dear land of bliss
All their souls panted for in this;
And their enjoyment ours shall be
When we have crossed the crystal sea.

MOURNER, LOOK ABOVE.

MARY S. ROBBINS,

RT thou a wanderer? doth no loved one's smile E'er meet thine own, thy sorrows to beguile? In this wide world, hast thou no heartfelt claim? Lingers there not within some cherished name

Of one, perhaps, who far in childhood's hour,

Won thy young heart, and still with lingering power
Retains the precious gem, though time has wove

A web which dims the lustre of thy love?
Hast thou no harbor on life's troubled sea?
Wanderer, there's rest in heaven for thee.

Art thou a mourner? doth the cold earth cover
The forms of loved ones all, none left to hover
Around thy pathway? must thou tread alone
Life's dreary walk, looking for naught beyond
To smile upon thy toil? no word of love
To recompense thee? Mourner, look above!
When life's dull task is over, then my soul
Shall find its long anticipated goal;

And friends shall smile and welcome thee with song,
And thine own voice shall help the strain prolong.
So murmur not, for when from earth once free,
There's rest in heaven for weary souls like thee.

I'M WEARY OF STRAYING.

Mrs. HINSDALE,

of straying! O fain would I rest

I'M weary of straying!

In that far distant land of the pure and the blest, Where sin can no longer its blandishments spread, And tears and temptations for ever have fled.

I am weary of hoping-where hope is untrue,—
As fair, but as fleeting, as morning's bright dew.
I long for that land whose blest promise alone,
Is changeless and sure as eternity's throne.

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I am weary of sighing o'er sorrows of earth,—
O'er joy's glowing visions, that fade at their birth.
O'er the pangs of the loved, that we cannot assuage;
O'er the blightings of youth and the weakness of age.
I am weary, my Saviour, of grieving thy love,—
Oh when shall I rest in thy presence above!
I am weary, but oh, let me never repine,

While thy word, and thy love, and thy promise are mine!

THEN OPEN, O GATE OF SLEEP.

Christian Treasury.

OPEN, O gate of sleep!

I am weary, and fain would go

Where hearts never sorrow, and eyes never weep

Bitterly tears of woe:

I would rest in the shadow, cool and deep,

Where the crystal waters flow.

For heavy and dark doth lie

Death's shadow on all below:

The changing beauty of earth and sky
Decks but a house of woe:
There's a fount of tears that is never dry,
A rest that we never know.

Then away to the beautiful land

Whence the shadow for aye is fled!
I shall meet the loved on its sunny strand,
The loved and the long-lost dead;

I shall welcome a bright immortal band,
By the angels gently led.

Then open, O gate of sleep!

I am weary, and fain would go

Where hearts never sorrow, and eyes never weep
Bitterly, tears of woe:

I long to rest in the shadow deep
Where the crystal fountains flow.

I THANK THEE FOR THAT WORD OF

PEACE.

W. S. COLTON.

I

"There remaineth therefore a rest for the people of God."

THANK Thee, Father, for that word of peace

Rest, rest forever when Life's cares are o'er;—
Changeless repose! O calm and sweet release

From all of sorrow we have known before;
From sin whose burden we shall feel no more-
Freedom how blest! and from the sinner's ways.
Who shall not follow to that heavenly shore,
Nor with his evil cloud the unsullied rays

Of love and joy that shine through everlasting days!

I know, O Father, that Thy works are fair :—

This strange, bright world was builded by Thine hand,

And round it the unmeasured heights of air

Rise, purple-arched and vast, o'er every land;