Robes whiter than unfallen snow
Down to his feet divinely flow,
Unstained with blood.—Before him now
No murderous priests reviling bow.
Around his waist a golden zone
Proclaims his title to the throne;
And in his hands, with sceptre graced,
The keys of death and hell are placed.
There dwell creation's elder sons,
Those high, those blessed, those holy ones,
Who, when this earth from chaos rolled,
Exulting struck their harps of gold.
In their exalted spheres, divine,
Like suns they move, like suns they shine;
And other lights, though glorious, seem
Lost in the radiance of their beam.
Nearest the sacred throne they sing,
And strike the sweetest, loudest string;
Thus eminent above the rest,
They lead the concert of the blessed.
There dwell the ransomed of the Lord,
Who loved to keep his holy word;
Washed in his blood from every stain,
With him eternally they reign.
They loved him here, and all his ways,
They loved to speak his name in praise,
They loved to do his righteous will,
And all his purposes fulfil.
And now, supremely blest above,
Encircled in his arms of love,
He wipes the tear from every face,
And crowns the children of his grace.
All grief is past, they sigh no more,
But live to worship and adore;
Around that blissful world they rove,
Amid the smiles of deathless love.
Roll on, Eternity, thy years,
Around the vast celestial spheres!
Thou bringst no change but new delight,
And scenes of joy forever bright.
AN APPEAL TO CHRISTIANS IN BEHALF OF STATE PRISONERS.
(Extract from a Sermon.)
"Come over into Macedonia and help us."
Acts xvi. 9.
"Glorious displays of heavenly mercy to lost and perishing mankind, and a missionary spirit, warm and pure as the altar from which it descended, and circumscribed in its holy purposes only by the broad limits of creation, are the great and delightful landmarks of the present age. The apocalyptic angel that was seen flying through the midst of heaven, having the Everlasting Gospel to preach to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people, is still spreading his golden wings, and proclaiming with a loud voice, "Fear God and give glory to Him, and worship Him who made heaven and earth." The sacred era of the apostles has again dawned upon the earth, and the servants of Christ are beginning to feel the broad import of their commission to "go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature." Impelled by its sacred influence, they have gone out by hundreds—they are wafted by every wind of heaven; they are borne on the waves of every sea, ocean, and river; and their foot-prints are visible in the dust and snow drifts of every clime. A light that gladdens the earth and shines to heaven, denotes the windings of their pilgrimage, and the freshness and beauty of Paradise in the midst of the desert, point out the places of their abode. Every where is verified to them the promise of their ascended Lord, "Lo I am with you always even unto the end of the world;" and even "devils are subject to them through his name." O! in what felicitous times are we permitted to live! Surely an undevout reader of missionary annals must be mad indeed. How truly may what Nicodemus said to Christ be applied to the whole noiseless army of missionary champions; "No man can do these" wonders, "which" they do, "except God be with him." And by what an irresistible inference does the success of modern missionaries associate both their cause and their labours with the approbation of heaven. From the midst of that golden cloud which embosoms the sacred throne, and softens the brightness of the Eternal to created vision, I hear a voice to these faithful friends of the Almighty, saying—"Servants of God! well done!" What a strong inducement is this to the friends of missions, to persevere in this celestial enterprise with redoubled efforts and increasing expectations: and how certain is it, that in due season they will reap, if they faint not.