No more below my wayward wishes roam,-- My heart, at last, is conscious of its home; My portion thou, my refuge and my rest;-- O gracious Saviour, take me to thy breast. But O, my brothers! comfortless as I,-- Alike we languish, and alike we die; Be merciful, O God, and hear the prayer Of every fainting spirit everywhere. In the dear shelter of thy tranquil breast, O Love divine, a weary world would rest; The whole creation travaileth for thee, O God, of love the Fountain and the Sea! THE LARGER LIFE. My years are very few, O God! More rapidly they pass Than clouds whose transient tale is told In shadows on the grass. My years are very few, O God! But they are full of thee,-- A drop of being in thy life’s Unfathomable sea. My years are very few, O God! O, let me clearly see How they grow strong and beautiful In thy immensity. My years are very few, O God! The sum of them is small; But each may serve thy blessed will, And thou shalt have them all. My years are very few, O God! But, safe on sea or land, I confidently journey on,-- My times are in thy hand. My years are very few, O God! On earth, but not in heaven;-- To thee, eternal Life and Love, Be endless praises given. CHRIST IN SONG. CHRISTMAS. O holy, happy morning, That saw the Saviour’s birth! The star, thy brow adorning, Beams mercy on the earth. For shepherds, and for sages, Thy cheer, impartial, free,-- The travail of the ages Finds recompense in thee. My soul, be thou believing,-- No more thy past deplore; In Christ all loss retrieving, Rejoice for evermore. By love unknown attended, Thy weary watch and ward,-- Behold! the vision splendid! The angel of the Lord! And hark! the herald angel! The radiant, rapturous throng! The ravishing evangel Floods all the hills with song: “To God in heaven, glory, Good will to men below;” Speed, speed the blessed story, That all the world may know. Repeat it softly, slowly, For still, in hut and hall, Are lonely hearts, and lowly, That hunger for it all. Again--again the story! Till sin and sorrow cease-- “To God, the Father, glory, And to his children, peace.” GOLD, AND FRANKINCENSE, AND MYRRH. Faithful, followed they the star Faintly glimmering afar, Till it rested o’er the way, Where the Lord of glory lay. Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh, Gave each regal worshiper, Seeing, in the Babe divine, Answer of the heavenly sign. Lo! again the star appears, Shining through our griefs and fears,-- Dayspring of the desolate-- Heaven stoops down to our estate!