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Visions come and go

Shapes of resplendent beauty round me throng-
From angel lips I seem to hear the flow
Of soft and holy song.

It is nothing now,

When heaven is ripening on my sightless eye,
When airs from Paradise refresh my brow,
That earth in darkness lies.

In a purer clime

My being fills with rapture-waves of thought
Roll in upon my spirit-strains sublime
Break over me unsought.

Give me now my lyre;

I feel the stirrings of a gift divine;
Within my bosom glows unearthly fire,
Lit by no skill of mine.

CHRIST, LET ME COME TO THEE.

MARY M. GRAVES.

HRIST, let me come to Thee!

CH

Behind me roars the angry ocean tide; Each crested wave comes nearer, nearer still; The muttered thunders in the billows hide, I shudder at their hoarse, loud voice, so chill,

I cannot meet the fierce, wild storm of Life!
I have no strength to battle with it more!
Too long I've wrestled in the painful strife,
I must lay down the burden that I bore.
Sweet Christ, O may I come?

Christ, let me come to Thee!

In dreams I hear Thy white-robed angels sing
The golden glories of their beauteous land;
I hear the rustle of each snowy wing,

And feel their touch upon my fevered hand.
Colder than ever seems the earth to me,

When I awake and see them flit away; I strain my eyes, the last bright glimpse to see, And watch them vanish through the gates of day. Sweet Christ, O may I come?

Christ, let me come to Thee!

I watch my toiling breath grow faint and slow;
I note the hectic deepening, day by day,
And feel my life is like a wreath of snow,

Which one kind breath of heaven would melt away!

A little longer in this world of vice

The wished-for boundary is almost passed

I see the shining shore of Paradise,

I know my pain is almost o'er at last.

Sweet Chirst, O let me come!

Christ, let me come to Thee!

I've seen the gates that guard Thy holy clime!
And often caught a gleam of Thee within;
I know they'll open in Thine own good time,
And let Thy weary, wandering child come in.

I've had through all this weary care and pain.

One blessed hope that ne'er has known despairIt cheers me like the sunshine after rain!

I know Thou'lt hear my deep and heartfelt prayer, And let me come to Thee!

COME, LORD, MY HEART IS SICK.

GEORGE HERBERT.

OME, Lord, my head doth burn, my heart is sick

COM

While Thou dost ever, ever stay:

Thy long deferrings wound me to the quick,

My spirit gaspeth night and day.

O show Thyself to me,

Or take me up to Thee!

How canst Thou stay, considering the pace
The blood did make, which Thou didst waste?
When I beheld it trickling down Thy face,
I never saw thing make such haste.
O show Thyself to me,

Or take me up to Thee!

Yet if Thou stayest still, why must I stay?
My God, what is this world to me?
This world of woe? hence, all ye clouds away,
Away; I must get up and see.

O show Thyself to me,

Or take me up to Thee!

Oh, loose this frame, this knot of man untie !
That my free soul may use her wing
Which now is pinioned with mortalitie,
As an entangled, hampered thing.
O show Thyself to me,

Or take me up to Thee!

What have I left that I should stay and grone?
The most of me to heaven is fled:

My thoughts and joys are all packt up and gone,
And for their old acquaintance plead.

O show Thyself to me,

Or take me up to Thee!

Come, dearest Lord, passe not this holy season,
My flesh and bones and joints do play:

And even my verse, when by the rhyme and reason
The word is Stay, says ever, Come.

O show Thyself to me,

Or take me up to Thee!

ME TO ZION TAKE IN PITY.

From the Latin. By THOMAS H. CHIVREs.

AVE me, Lord! thou Judge Eternal!

SAVE

From those dark domains infernal;
Where is weeping, where is wailing,
Where all prayers are unavailing!
Where each soul doth self-inherit
Proofs of its own damned demerit ;

Tortures reaping-ever crying,
From the worm that is undying;
Where no hope can come to sever
Life from death, in hell forever!

Me to Zion take in pity!
David's Zion-tranquil city!
Built by God, of light—its portal
Cross of Christ, the wood immortal;
Key that locks, the tongue of Peter,
Turned, the songs of God's not sweeter;
Walled, heaven high, each scaleless story
Guarded by the King of Glory!

In this city, light eternal

Reigns forever-peace supernal;

Odors flow in such completeness,

Heaven is filled with songs of sweetness

Here, the soul knows no corruption,
Frailty none, nor interruption;
None too little, none dilated,
All in Christ are consummated.

Heavenly city! glorious city!
Built upon the rock of Pity!
City in whose Gates are gathered
All I long for-all I fathered!
Now I greet thee-thee I sigh for!
Whose possession I would die for!

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