The voice
that uttered them is silent now but the solemnity of their utterance
has not passed away. The [below] is a feeble attempt to give it
something like permanency.]
Bow the head in supplication,
Lowly, penitent, sincere,
Worthiest of adoration,
God, the Holy One is here!--
Here, while through the open casement
Gently beams the rising day,
While, in contrite self abasement,
Rev'rently we kneel and pray!
Let us pray!--we're weak and weary,
Faint of heart and slow of limb,
Over mountains dark and dreary
Lies our pathway--narrow, dim,
Thorn beset and demon-haunted,
Steep and slipp'ry is the way,
Would we tread it all undaunted,
Firm of footstep?--let us pray!
Let us pray!--on every spirit,
Secret, solemn records lie,
Of transgression and demerit,
On'y seen by God's pure eye,--
Secret sins, desires unholy,
Thoughts impure that once held sway,--
Oh, in penitence most lowly,
Deeply contrite, let us pray!
Let us pray!--we need forgiveness,--
Strength and patience to endure,--
For our arduous labors fitness,--
Spirits consecrate and pure,
Shelter need when storms are round us,--
Bread of Heavenly life each day,--
Help when hidden snares surround us,--
Guidance always--let us pray!
RICH AND POOR
Old Aleck, the weaver, sat in the nook
Of his chimney, reading an ancient book,
Old, and yellow, and sadly worn,
With covers faded, and soiled, and torn;--
And the tallow candle would flicker and flare
As the wind, which tumbled the old man's hair,
Swept drearily in through a broken pane,
Damp and chilling with sleet and rain.
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