120 0 Pilot, 'tis a fearful night.

deck with thee, I do not dare to sleep.

"Go down!" the sai

lor cried, "go down! this

is

no place for thee; Fear not, but trust in

Providence, Wherev - er

thou may'st be."

Ah! Pilot, dangers often met,
We all are apt to slight;

And thou hast known these raging waves,
But to subdue their might.
"Oh! 'tis not apathy," he cried,
"That gives this strength to me;
Fear not, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou may'st be."

On such a night the sea engulfed
My father's lifeless form;
My only brother's boat went down
In just so wild a storm:

And such, perhaps, may be my fate;
But still I say to thee,

"Fear not, but trust in Providence,
Wherever thou may'st be."

122 God is Wisdom, God is Love. 8s & 7s.

Music from the Elementary Music Book-by permission.

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God is love; his mercy brightens All the Chance and change are busy ever; Man de

3:3 bb4

path in which we rove; Bliss he wakes, and woe he cays, and ages move, But his mer-cy wan - eth

light-ens; God is wis - dom, God is nev - er; God is

love.

wisdom, God is

love.

E'en the hour that darkest seemeth
Will his changeless goodness prove;
From the gloom his brightness streameth,
God is wisdom, God is love.

He with earthly cares entwineth
Hope and comfort from above;
Every where his glory shineth;'
God is wisdom, God is love.

DEATH OF A SCHOLAR OR TEACHER.

Sister, thou wast mild and lovely,
Gentle as the summer breeze,
Pleasant as the air of evening,
When it floats among the trees.

Peaceful be thy silent sluinher
Peaceful in the grave so low:
Thou no more wilt join our number;
Thou no more our songs shalt know.
Dearest sister, thou hast left us;
Here thy loss we deeply feel;
But 'tis God that hath bereft us:
He can all our sorrows heal.

Yet again we hope to meet thee,
When the day of life is fled;

Then in heaven with joy to greet thee,
Where no farewell tear is shed.

AT THE GRAVE OF A TEACHER OR SCHOLAR

In this sacred spot now lieth

Low the form of one we loved; 'Tis the form alone that diethSpirits are to heaven removed.

Here a loving band we gather

Round the shrine of mem'ries dear;

Smile upon us, gracious Father!
Let us feel thy presence here.

In thy love the dead and living,
All alike are circled still;
May our souls, their tribute giving,
Bow submissive to thy will.

We

e are mortal- may we feel it-
All our days be thine alone;
We're immortal-Lord, reveal it!
Let it still each sigh and groan.

To our home and school now bearing
Hallowed thoughts and hopes divine;
May our souls, thy image wearing,
All to thy great love resign.