"Peace I leave with you.”—John xiv, 27.
"Peace" was the song the Angels sang,
When Jesus sought this vale of tears,
And sweet that heavenly prelude rang,
To calm the watchful shepherds' fears,—
"War" is the word that man hath spoke,
Convuls'd by passions dark and dread,
And Pride enforc'd a lawless yoke
Even while the Gospel's banner spread.
"Peace" was the prayer the Saviour breathed
When from our world his steps withdrew,
The gift he to his friends bequeathed
With Calvary and the Cross in view:—
Redeemer! with adoring love
Our spirits take thy rich bequest,
The watchword of the host above,
The passport to their realm of rest.
DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY.
We had a Rose,—its breast
Was bright with pearly dew,
Nor blight, nor time had stain'd the flower,
Yet it sank away from its cherish'd bower,
It faded where it grew.
