Vermont Telegraph

Poetry
For the Vermont Telegraph
LINES
Addressed to a young man laboring under a call to the Gospel Ministry.
BY MISS H. E. B.

'Go preach my gospel saith the Lord;
'Go tell men to repent;
'Proclaim Salvation's tidings round;
Nor from the task relent.'

Go tell all men that they're condemn'd,
By law which God has giv'n
That Christ's own blood will free from sin,
And bring them safe to Heaven.

'Lo! I am with you to the end,'
He's said who said 'repent,
And for your Comforter I have
The Holy Spirit sent.'

O! then, my friend, gird boldly on
The armor of the Lord;
Since you by Him in youth are call'd
T' proclaim his righteous word.

What wait you for; why shun to do
Your Maker's blessed will?
'Tis He commands the raging seas.
And bids the waves 'be still.'

A faithful servant of his cross
His blessing will attend—
Though he the 'sea of trouble wade'—
From harm will him defend.

And if the way seem dark and drear—
No light gleams on the road—
When he the path of duty treads,
He' will remove the load.

'A light unto their feet' He is—
'A lamp unto their path'—
And the blest book of Life divine
The same will ever last.

Since such encouragements He gives,
Why will you not give heed,
And enter now the glorious field,
The church of God to feed?

Think of the souls that are fast bound
In Satan's galling chains;
Think what their wretched doom must be,
If they in sin remain.

Think by your efforts that they may
Their souls' salvation seek;
Leave the vain world of flesh and sin
The glorious message speak.

Think of the million wretched souls
In heathen darkness bound,
While they in meek submission bow,
To blocks of wood and stone.

And think—ah! think, of their poor souls,
A way of life is giv'n;
Redemption in the blood of Christ,
Securing rest in Heaven.

Yet of this way they never learn'd
And who shall it declare?
If not the Servants of His cross?
To them this course—beware!

He' makes the path of duty plain
And criminal must be,
The one who shuns the course He marks,
When he no other sees.

Ye count no earthly honor great—
You care not for its joys—
Your trust's in God, you have no care,
For such mere trifling toys.

You've said' the path of duty you
Would evermore pursue,
Since you have render'd Him your heart
Which was but His just due.

And yet you say your troubled soul
Is not e'en now at peace,
For loudly sounds within your ears,
Go forth! my Gospel preach

You fear the task too much for you,
Or you too soon may run;
But if you're bidden why not say,
Thy will—Oh! God, be done?

Why not declare without delay
The riches of His grace,
And point poor souls to the blest Lamb,
E'er he withdraws his face?

I would not talk thus plain to you—
In duty urge you on—
Had you not said, You knew it was
The call of God's dear Son.

Oh! doubt not then your duty more,
But fix your thoughts on high;
Say here I am, my Gracious Lord,
Wilt thou be ever nigh.'

'Oh! wilt thou guide my wand'ring foot
Lest I be led astray;
And I will shun thy calls no more
If thou dost lead this way.'

Oh? make me thine and wholly thine
Feed me with Heaven's bread;
Make me alive to grace divine—
To sin may I be dead.

Uphold me with thy spirit free,
If I thy word must speak;
Then wilt be with me as thou'st said
If I thy face do seek.

You comfortless not leave—
But souls, seals of your ministry,
To you will surely give.

Then now decide, although doth seem
The undertaking great;
Come boldly forth—! you'll ne'er regret
That this has been your fate.

Panton, 1839.