HYMN TO THE FATHER.

Heavenly father, God of mercy,
  Look upon a sinful soul;
For, the waves of sad contrition,
  Now above me darkly roll. 
Ah! my crimes are dark and grievous,
  The huge burthen hard to bear;
All the day and night I’m sighing
  Whelm’d in grief and dark despair.

Ah! how deeply I have fallen
  From my high and happy state,
Where, enrob’d in thy dear image,
  Once, in tranquil peace, I sate. 
Black with sores, a loathsome leper,
  Lo!  I wait before Thy throne;
Cans’t thou, Maker, wilt thou heal me,
  Make me whole and all thine own?

Oh!  Thy grace is freely gushing,
  Boundless is Thy wondrous Love;
And for all Thy erring children,
  Lord, Thy tender bowels move. 
Hail!  Supreme, Exhaustless Mercy,
  Christ hath freed my soul from sin;
And a holy calm comes o’er me,
  And a heavenly peace within.

O BIRDIE!  SPEAK TO ME.

O Birdie! speak to me,
  Speak from thy silent grave;
It doth not roll o’er thee,
  Death’s dark and Stygian wave! 
Sweet! speak, I’m sick, to hear
  The heaven of thy voice,
Which wont, while life was dear,
  To thrill me and rejoice.

Speak, Birdie! speak to me! 
  Speak from the flowers which bloom,
Beneath the cedar tree
  That hides thy dearest tomb! 
Speak, angel! speak to me;
  I know thou art not dead,
That the dear soul in thee
  But, bird-like, upward sped!

Yes!  Birdie! speak to me,
  Maid most bright, most dear;
Ask, if I’m true to thee,
  Ask if my grief’s sincere? 
Ask if the warm tears roll
  From my devoted heart? 
O Birdie! then my soul
  In peace shall hence depart.

TO ONE.

I love thee, and my trembling lyre
  Will learn no other strain;
I marvel if thy gentle heart
  Will ever cease disdain;
I marvel if our future lives,
  Will mingle into one,
And glitter like a happy stream,
  In an unclouded sun.

I see that mid a wooing throng,
  Thou art a central star,
And vying youths, with noble pride,
  Have brought their gifts from far: 
I only think the smiles thou giv’st,
  So freely unto them,
If given to me, would bless me more,
  Than thrones or diadem.

I love thee, and this throbbing heart,
  From thrall no longer free,
Must heave in joy, or ache with wo,
  Till Death’s dark hour, for thee. 
I feel that I must know thy love,
  Or all of life will be
One long, deep wail, one throb of pain,
  One speechless agony.

THE WANDERER.

With none to share my ship with me,
A wand’rer o’er life’s stormy sea,
One brilliant star, like lamp of love,
Smiles calmly from its throne above. 
Oh! brightly o’er the surging wave,
That lustre shines to bless and save;
And on through billows thund’ring roll,
Conducts me to my heavenly goal.