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BOOK II. 4 But the wonder-working Lord Soothes the tempest by his word ; Stills the thunder, stops the rain, And his sun breaks forth again : Soon the cloud again returns, Now he joys, and now he mourns ; Oft his sky is overcast Ere the day of life be past.

5 Tried believers too can say, In the course of one short day, Though the morning has been fair, Proved a golden hour of pray r, Sin and Satan, long ere night, Have their comforts put to flight ; Ah ! what heart-felt peace and joy Unexpected storms destroy !

6 Dearest Saviour, call us soon To thy high eternal noon ; Never there shall tempest rise, To conceal thee from our eyes : Satan shall no more deceive, We no more thy Spirit grieve ; But, through cloudless, endless days, Sound to golden harps thy praise.

1 THE grass and flow rs which clothe the field, And look so green and gay, Touch d by the scythe, defenceless yield, And fall and fade away.

2 Fit emblem of our mortal state ! Thus, in the Scripture glass, The young, the strong, the wise, the great, May see themselves but grass,

3 Ah ! trust not to your fleeting breath, Nor call your time your own ; Around you see the scythe of death Is mowing thousands down.