LINES ON THE NEW YEAR.
In some simple words of rhyme
Read, and mark the flight of time;
Seasons come and disappear,
As we pass from year to year.
All things ever on the move,
Whether them we hate or love;
'Tis a changing scene below—
This we own, for this we know.
Blest are they—and only they—
Who are in the "narrow way";
Seeking Jesus' blessed face;
Longing much to know His grace.
Mourning over inward sin;
Panting only Him to win
Who for sin and sinners died,
When on Calvary crucified.
Do I, who these lines now read,
Of redemption feel my need?
Do I really long to know
That His blood for me did flow?
Do my heart and mouth confess
I am all unrighteousness?
Do I pray indeed to see
Christ my Righteousness to be?
Do I feel I cannot die
Till He does His blood apply?
And my doubting soul assure
I shall to the end endure?
If 'tis so, I know full well
I shall surely with Him dwell,
And shall, in His house on high,
Shout His praise beyond the sky.
A. Hammond.
Supposing all the great points of atheism were formed into a kind of creed, I would fain ask whether it would not require an infinitely greater measure of faith than any set of articles which they so violently oppose?—Addison.