And oh, when I have safely past
  Through every conflict but the last,
  Still, still unchanging, watch beside
  My painful bed, for Thou hast died;
  Then point to realms of cloudless day,
  And wipe the latest tear away.

SIR ROBERT GRANT.

* * * * *

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

  When, marshalled on the nightly plain,
    The glittering host bestud the sky,
  One star alone, of all the train,
    Can fix the sinner’s wandering eye.

  Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
    From every host, from every gem: 
  But one alone the Saviour speaks,
    It is the Star of Bethlehem.

  Once on the raging seas I rode,
    The storm was loud, the night was dark,
  The ocean yawned, and rudely blowed
    The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

  Deep horror then my vitals froze,
    Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem;
  When suddenly a star arose,—­
    It was the Star of Bethlehem.

  It was my guide, my light, my all,
    It bade my dark forebodings cease;
  And through the storm and dangers’ thrall
    It led me to the port of peace.

  Now safely moored, my perils o’er,
    I’ll sing, first in night’s diadem,
  Forever and forevermore,
    The Star!—­the Star of Bethlehem!

HENRY KIRKE WHITE.

* * * * *

LOVE TO CHRIST.

    FROM “AN HYMNE OF HEAVENLY LOVE.”

  With all thy hart, with all thy soule and mind,
  Thou must him love, and his beheasts embrace;
  All other loves, with which the world doth blind
  Weake fancies, and stirre up affections base,
  Thou must renounce and utterly displace,
  And give thy selfe unto him full and free,
  That full and freely gave himselfe to thee.

  Then shalt thou feele thy spirit so possest,
  And ravisht with devouring great desire
  Of his deare selfe, that shall thy feeble brest
  Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire
  With burning zeale, through every part entire,
  That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight,
  But in his sweet and amiable sight.

  Thenceforth all worlds desire will in thee dye,
  And all earthes glorie, on which men do gaze,
  Seeme durt and drosse in thy pure-sighted eye,
  Compared to that celestiall beauties blaze,
  Whose glorious beames all fleshly sense doth daze
  With admiration of their passing light,
  Blinding the eyes, and lumining the spright.

  Then shall thy ravisht soule inspired bee
  With heavenly thoughts farre above humane skil,
  And thy bright radiant eyes shall plainely see
  The idee of his pure glorie present still
  Before thy face, that all thy spirits shall fill
  With sweet enragement of celestiall love,
  Kindled through sight of those faire things above.