796. L. M. Mrs. Sigourney.
The Upas Tree.
1There sprang a tree of deadly name:
Its poisonous breath, its baleful dew
Scorched the green earth like lava-flame,
And every plant of mercy slew.
2From clime to clime its branches spread
Their fearful fruits of sin and woe;
The prince of darkness loved its shade,
And toiled its fiery seeds to sow.
3Faith poured her prayer at midnight hour;
The hand of zeal at noon-day wrought;
An armor of celestial power
The children of the cross besought.
4Behold the axe its pride doth wound;
Through its cleft boughs the sun doth shine;
Its blasted blossoms strew the ground:
Give glory to the arm divine.
5And still Jehovah's aid implore,
From isle to isle, from sea to sea,
From peopled earth's remotest shore,
To root that deadly Upas Tree.
797. 7s. & 6s. M. J. G. Adams.
Dedication of a Temperance Hall.
1'Mid homes and shrines forsaken
Of joy and peace divine,
Faint hearts new strength have taken,
A light is seen to shine!
Its beaming revelations
Are shed in mercy far;
A guide to all the nations--
The glorious Temperance star!
2Hushed be that wail of sadness,
Life, life has come again;
Awake the song of gladness,
Swell high the choral strain!
The lost returns from straying
In sin's destructive way;
That curse is turned to praying,
That night to blissful day!
3God of this day! Our Father!
In humble praise to thee,
Within these walls we gather--
The spared, the blest, the free;
To hail thy grace far-sounding--
Our Temple dedicate
To hope and life abounding
In Man regenerate!
4Rest thou within it ever,
As o'er the ark of old;
And here, O may we never
In our great strife wax cold.
Nerve every arm and spirit
For each successful blow,
Till Temperance shall inherit
All temples here below!
798. 6s. & 4s. M. Pierpont.
Prayer for the Abolition of Slavery.
1With thy pure dews and rains,
Wash out, O God! the stains
From Afric's shore;
And while her palm trees bud,
Let not her children's blood,
With her broad Niger's flood,
Be mingled more.
2Quench, righteous God! the thirst,
That Congo's sons hath cursed--
The thirst for gold;
Shall not thy thunders speak,
Where Mammon's altars reek,
Where maids and matrons shriek,
Bound, bleeding, sold?
3Hear'st thou, O God! those chains,
That clank on Freedom's plains,
By Christians wrought?
Those who these chains have worn,
Christians from home have torn,
Christians have hither borne,
Christians have bought!
4Lord! wilt thou not, at last,
From thine own image cast
Away all cords,
Save those of love, which brings
Man, from his long wand'rings,
Back--to the King of kings,--
The Lord of lords?