Vermont Telegraph

From the Friend.

THE WORK OF GOD

"O Lord! how manifold are thy works; in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches. So is this great sea, wherein are things innumerable, both small and great."

Psalms civ.

Upon the rolling sea,
Upon the firm fixed land.
O God! unerring lines there be
Of thine Almighty hand.

Nature is, as a book
Traced with immortal pen,
Where high and low alike may look,
Among the sons of men.

Nothing so great, so high,
But owns God's sovereign will;
Nothing so lowly, but his eye
Sees, and protects it still.

The stars that nightly rise
In the blue vault above,
Point to the Throne beyond the skies,
Pure source of light and love.

The waters wide and deep,
And all within them found,
Tell of a hand stretched out to keep
The sea within its bound.

The earth in verdure clad.
The flower that yearly springs,
Whose fragrance makes the spirit glad,
These speak of heavenly things.

Too beautiful to be
Born but to mix with dust;
No! types of things we hope to see:
Such is the Christian's trust!

The mountains, rocks, and hills,
The desert, lone and drear,
Where, tho' the dew and rain distil,
No offerings appear;

Each has its written page—
And he that runs may read
Lessons, inscribed for youth and age,
In every hour of need.

Why should our spirits fail?
Why doth our faith decay?
God hears the feeble sparrow's wail—
"And are we less than they?"

Nay, Christian! wherefore yield?
Tho' strength seems well nigh gone,
Take up again the heavenly shield,
And gird thy armor on;

Onward, through storm and calm—
Onward, in hope or fear—
In God thou wilt yet find balm,
And a Physician near!