Meek Lamb of God! on Thee, 'Mid the hot desert, where the pilgrim pines, New Heavens !-for the stars grow pale,. No night shall be in heaven-no gathering gloom, Now spring returns, but not to me returns, . O blest art thou whose steps may rove, O God of Abraham! by whose hand, O God of nature and of grace, O happy is the man who hears, Page 160 229 259 154 265 225 184 144 66 47 120 51 203 49 44 221 267 100 209 O Lord, send down the heavenly rain, 233 O Saviour! whose mercy, severe in its kindness, 97 O Thou the first, the greatest Friend, 56 O Thou! who art the Shepherd of faithful Jacob's race, Oh! weep not thus, though the child thou hast loved,. 124 110 The Assyrian came down, like a wolf on the fold, 108 The chariot! the chariot! its wheels roll on fire, 147 The summer sky, so blue and clear, There is a concert in the trees, Page 230 200 179 71 132 There is light on the hills, and the valley is past, 62 There's music in the morning air, 161 These eyes that were half-closed in death, 57 They sin who tell us love can die, 76 This is not my place of resting, 175 Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, 88 Thou art my hiding-place, O Lord, 141 Thou art, O God! the life and light, . 80 Thou city of the Lord! whose name, 196 Thou earth! c'er which the curse of sin, 163 Though long the wanderer may depart, 220 130 Thy cross, O Lord, the holy sign, 158 'Tis midnight, 'tis midnight, o'er Egypt's dark sky,. 181 39 To Jesus, the crown of my hope, 12 To the everlasting mountains I lift my weary eyes, Weary one, wait! the dawn is approaching, 168 Page Weep not for thy loved one, whose form lies at rest, 243 What strains of compassion are heard, 260 14 5 95 113 68 78 98 245 When our heads are bowed with woe, 147 When shall we meet again? 75 When through the torn sail the wild tempest is streaming, 88 Why does the day, whose date is brief, 126 Why should I murmur or repine, 214 Work! thy mission is not slumber, 227 Would you be young again? . Ye golden lamps of heaven, farewell, Ye ransomed saints! what tongue can tell, 59 17 215 The Sacred Minstrel. JOSEPH ADDISON. NE of the most celebrated of British writers, Joseph Addison was born at Milston, Wiltshire, in 1672. He studied at Oxford, where he was distinguished for his classical attainments. By composing elegant verses, he early gained some powerful patrons. In 1709 he became Private Secretary to the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, an appointment which, united to another office, yielded him a salary of £600. He now published, along with Sir Richard Steele, the Tatler, Spectator, and Guardian, periodicals which exercised a salutary influence on the manners of the period, and which still retain their popularity. In 1716, Addison espoused the Dowager Countess of Warwick, a union not productive of happiness. He was subsequently appointed Secretary of State for Ireland, but soon retired on an allowance of £1500 a year. He died at Holland House, Kensington, in June 1719. Addison was a man of earnest and unpretending piety; his writings, both in prose and verse, breathe the spirit of devotion. His reputation as a powerful and elegant essayist has eclipsed his fame as a poet; but his sacred lyrics have been inserted in every collection, and will continue to be read with interest, while the English language is understood. A |
