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TO REV. W. TRIPP. 371
I deem that angels o'er a path like thine Are ever hovering with expanding wing,
To the disconsolate and toil-worn mind
Delighting a sweet solace-draught to bring.
Do not the smiles of heaven fall brightest there, Where to the world stern shadows seem to blend ? I know—I know ! Despite those clouds of care, Some rays of sweetness from the throne descend.
Then, Heaven-commission'd, let thy soul prevail In the sharp contest with the world and sin!
Vainly the powers of darkness will assail A heart that has the Saviour throned within.
What though thy path in darkness seem to lie, .
Far from the shining of a prosp'rous sun ! What if loud tempests gather in thy sky,
And earthly hopes elude thee one by one !.
Remember that a holy task is thine,
A lot that angels well might wish to share;
To lift that veil which shrouds the guilty mind, And pour the radiance of the gospel there.
'T is thine with earnest vigour to proclaim The news of grace, the glorious jubilee;
To unbolt the prison doors in Jesus' name, And set the weary, sighing captive free.