2 Hope leads the child to plant the flower, The man to sow the seed; Nor leaves fulfilment to her hour,-- But prompts again to deed. And ere upon the old man's dust The grass is seen to wave, We look through falling tears, to trust Hope's sunshine on the grave. 3 O, no! it is no flattering lure, No fancy weak or fond, When hope would bid us rest secure In better life beyond. Nor love, nor shame, nor grief, nor sin, Her promise may gainsay; The voice divine hath spoke within, And God did ne'er betray. 275. C. M. Chr. Register. Faith Triumphant Over Sorrow. 1 Not that Thy boundless love, my God, Sheds blessing on my way, And gilds as with a heavenly beam The darkness of earth's day,-- Not now for breath of summer flowers, For smiles of sunny skies, The still, small voice of gratitude Shall to Thine ear arise. 2 I bless Thee for the ministry Of sorrow's lonely hour, When darkly o'er my stricken head I see the storm-clouds lower; Thy love can still the billows' roar, And whisper, "Peace; be still!" While faith doth on Thy promise rest, And bless the Father's will. 3 The shadow and the storm must come; O, grant that faith divine Which triumphs o'er the might of grief, And moulds man's will to Thine! In hours of deepest gloom, mine eye One blessed ray can see; A sunlit side that cloud must have, Which hides Thy face from me. 276. L. M. Jane Roscoe. The Bitter Cup. 1 Thy will be done! I will not fear The fate provided by Thy love; Though clouds and darkness shroud me here, I know that all is bright above. 2 The stars of heaven are shining on, Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears; And though the hopes of earth be gone, Yet are not ours the immortal years? 3 Father! forgive the heart that clings, Thus trembling, to the things of time; And bid the soul, on angel wings, Ascend into a purer clime. 4 There shall no doubts disturb its trust, No sorrows dim celestial love; But these afflictions of the dust, Like shadows of the night, remove. 5 That glorious life will well repay This life of toil and care and woe; O Father! joyful on my way, To drink Thy bitter cup, I go. 277. S. M. Doddridge. I Say unto You, Watch! 1 Ye servants of the Lord! Each in your office wait, Observant of His heavenly word, And watchful at His gate. 2 Let all your lamps be bright, And trim the golden flame: Gird up your loins, as in His sight; For holy is His name.