Oh! hast Thou not a blessing left,
A blessing, LORD, for me?

The dew lies thick on all the ground,
Shall
my poor fleece be dry?

The manna rains from heaven around,
Shall I of hunger die?

Behold Thy prisoner ;-loose my bands, If 'tis Thy gracious will;

If not, contented in thine hands,

Behold Thy prisoner still!

I may not to Thy courts repair,
Yet here Thou surely art;
LORD, consecrate a house of
In my surrender'd heart.

prayer

To faith reveal the things unseen,
To hope, the joys untold;
Let love, without a veil between,
Thy glory now behold.

Oh! make Thy face on me to shine,
That doubt and fear may cease;
Lift up Thy countenance benign
On me,—and give me peace.

THE LOT OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

"We know that all things work together for good to them that love God." Rom. viii. 28.

YEA "ALL things work together for their good!"
How can this glorious truth be understood?

'Tis like JEHOVAH's throne, where marvellous light
Hides in thick darkness from created sight:
The first-born seraph, trembling while he sings,
Views its veil'd lustre through his shadowing wings;
Or, if he meets, by unexpected grace,

The beatific vision, face to face,

Shrinks from perfection which no eye can see,
Entranced in the abyss of Deity.

Yea," ALL things work together for their

good!"

How shall the mystery be understood?

From man's primeval curse are these set free, Sin slain, death swallow'd up in victory? The body from corruption so refined, 'Tis but the immortal vesture of the mind? The mind from folly so to wisdom won, 'Tis a pure sunbeam of the eternal sun?

Ah! no, no;—all that troubles life is theirs, Hard toil, sharp suffering, slow-consuming cares; To mourn and weep; want raiment, food, and rest, Brood o'er the unutter'd anguish of the breast; To love, to hope, desire, possess, in vain; Wrestle with weakness, weariness, and pain, Struggle with fell disease from breath to breath, And every moment die a moment's death.

This is their portion, this the common lot;
But they have sorrows which the world knows not:
- Their conflicts with that world, its fair, false joys,
Ensnaring riches and delusive toys,

Its love, its hatred; its neglect and scorn;
With self-abhorrence harder to be borne;

The

pangs

of conscience, when God's holy law, Through Sinai's thunders, strikes them dumb with

awe;

Passions disorder'd, when insane desires

Blow the rank embers of unhallow'd fires;

Evils that lurk in ambush at the heart,

And shoot their arrows thence through every part;
Harsh roots of bitterness, light seeds of sin,
Oft springing up, and stirring strife within;
Pride, like the serpent, vaunting to deceive,
As with his subtilty beguiling Eve;

Ambition, like the great red dragon, hurl'd,

Sheer from heaven's battlements to this low world,
Boundless in rage, as limited in power,
Ramping abroad, and roaring to devour:

- These, which blithe worldlings laugh at and con

temn,

Are worse than famine, sword, and fire to them.

Nor these alone, for neither few nor small

The trials rising from their holy call:

-The Spirit's searching, proving, cleansing flames; Duty's demands, the Gospel's sovereign claims; Stern self-denial counting all things loss For Christ, and daily taking up the cross; The broken heart, or heart that will not break, That aches not, or that cannot cease to ache; Doubts and misgivings, lest when storms are past, They make sad shipwreck of the faith at last :

These, and a thousand forms of fear and shame, Bosom-temptations, that have not a name, But have a nature, felt through flesh and bone, Through soul and spirit,-felt by them alone;

These, these the Christian pilgrims sore distress, Like thorns and briars of the wilderness;

These keep them humble, keep them in the path, As those that flee from everlasting wrath.

Yet, while their hearts and hopes are fix'd above, As those who lean on everlasting love, On faithfulness, which, though heaven's pillars bend, And earth's base fail, uphold them to the end ;By them, by them alone 'tis understood, How all things work together for their good. Would'st THOU too understand?-behold I show The perfect way,-Love GOD, and thou shalt know.

A BENEDICTION FOR A BABY.

WHAT blessing shall I ask for thee,
In the sweet dawn of infancy?

That, which our Saviour, at his birth, Brought down with Him from heaven to earth.

What next, in childhood's April years
Of sunbeam smiles and rainbow tears?
-That, which in Him all eyes might trace,
To grow in wisdom and in grace.

What in the wayward path of youth,
Where falsehood walks abroad as truth?
-By that good Spirit to be led,
Which John saw resting on his head.

What, in temptation's wilderness,
When wants assail, and fears oppress ?
-To wield like Him the Scripture-sword,
And vanquish Satan by "the word."

What, in the labour, pain, and strife,
Combats and cares of daily life?
-In his cross-bearing steps to tread,
Who had not where to lay his head.