John Bowring

Where is thy sting, O Death!
Grave! where thy victory?
The clod may sleep in dust beneath,
The spirit will be free!
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Lord! I believe: but if a doubt
Should shake my weak and wand'ring soul,
Let Reason drive the intruder out,
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Keep the unity of spirit,
Keep it in the bonds of peace,
So alone shall we inherit
Hope, and truth, and blessedness.
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We walk by faith, and not by sight;
And if we ever go astray,
Do Thou, O Lord! conduct us right,
And lead us in our onward way.
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Where'er the foot of man hath trod,
He feels the presence of a God:
Around, above, beneath,-where'er
His thought can reach, a God is there.
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If the hours of life are fleeting,
Let those hours be well employed!
Working, resting, parting, meeting,
Life was given to be enjoyed.
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'Like morning dew
He sparkled; was exhaled, and went to heaven;'
That promise for the innocent was given,
And is divinely true.
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I wander through a foreign land,
And still Thy love is mine;
And, guided by Thy gracious hand,
I feel that I am Thine.
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Now tell me what is chivalry?
To battle in the foremost fight
For anything-for wrong-for right,
For some fair lady's scornful smile,
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When shall mortal man be crowned,
Crowned with immortality?
Shadows here our path surround;
Nothing is reality.
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There was a day in ancient time
(It took its name from the bright Sun
That beams upon the orient clime),
When in the ripened corn-fields One
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On light beams flowing from above
Man's course of mortal being runs;
And with the loadstone of His love
The Eternal Sire attracts His sons.
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Rouse thee, O my spirit, rouse thee,
Unto God thy offerings bring;
Sing His name, for He allows thee
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Have ye not seen? have ye not heard?
And hath it not been told to you?
'From the beginning,' that the Lord
Will strengthen, will uphold you?
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Round us, o'er us, is there aught
Which can fill our highest thought;
Aught which may deserve to be
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Lead us with Thy gentle sway,
As a willing child is led;
Speed us on our forward way,
As a pilgrim, Lord! is sped;
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Long had the darkness of ages surrounded
Earth and its sons, when the day-star on high
Broke from the mists, and with glory unbounded
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While through life's tangled paths you rove,
Watch every onward footstep duly;
And if there's little life to love,
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Pure and undefiled religion,
In our God and Father's sight,
Is, to pour on helpless orphans
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O there are hours so dark and dull,
That nought of earthly light can cheer;
Hours full of fear-and sorrowful-
When the worn spirit has no ear
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