He giveth of His grace the boon, And in its bosom late and soon His own belov'd He keepeth, His arms He daily spreadeth o'er, Guards as a Father by His pow'r Us and our house, nor sleepeth. Still we Must be Here and thither Roaming ever, Till He gives us Pious homes, and thus relieves us. The husband's like a goodly tree Whose branches spread so fair and free; The wife a vine that giveth Much fruit, and nurtures what it bears, Whose fruit increaseth with the years, Fruit that remains and liveth. Jewel, All hail! Husband's treasure! House's pleasure! Crown of honour! On His throne God thinketh on her. O wife! the Lord hath chosen thee That from thy womb brought forth should be The folk His church that buildeth; His wondrous work goes on for aye, The mighty word His mouth doth say, What thou beholdest, yieldeth, Sons fair Stand there, Daughters sitting Working, knitting, Finely spinning, And with art time wisely winning. Be of good cheer, it was not we Who first this order did decree, It was a higher Father, Who lov'd and loveth us for aye, And from whose lips when griev'd each day We friendly counsel gather; Good end He'll send, What we're doing And pursuing, Or conceiving Wise and happy issue giving. A time will come, it cannot fail, When we 'neath trials sore shall quail, And tears be freely flowing; To him who bears it patiently, By God's grace shall his sorrow be Turn'd into joy o'erflowing. Toil now, Wait thou, He arriveth Who rest giveth, Who can ever Banish care and soon deliver. Come hither then, my King so bless'd! In trials guide, in pain give rest, In anxious times relieving! To Thee we shall ascribe the praise, Our hearts and voices we shall raise In one loud song, thanks giving, Till we With Thee Ever dwelling, And fulfilling Thy will ever, Thy name cease to praise shall never. Of Death, the Last Day, and Eternal Life. OF DEATH AND DYING.--PSALM XC. Lord God! Thou art for evermore Thy people's habitation, And Thou existence hadst before Was laid the earth's foundation! Ere yet the hills began to be Thou lived'st in eternity, Of all things the beginning! Thou lettest all the crowds of men Through death's dark portals wander, And biddest them return again, Those others follow yonder. With Thee a thousand years are aye Like watch of night or yesterday When it is gone for ever.