DEUTERONOMY VIII. 3.

"AND HE HUMBLED THEE, AND SUFFERED THEE TO HUNGER, AND FED THEE WITH MANNA, WHICH THOU KNEWEST NOT, NEITHER DID THY FATHERS KNOW; THAT HE MIGHT MAKE THEE KNOW THAT MAN DOTH NOT LIVE BY BREAD ONLY, BUT BY EVERY WORD THAT PROCEEDETH OUT OF THE MOUTH OF THE LORD DOTH MAN LIVE."

TEACH us this lesson, gracious Lord

In life's long weary way,

Through sin and murmurings, still thy Word

Sustains us day by day.

What have we learned? to seek that bread

On which thy wandering people fed?

By toil, and want, and sorrow tried,

We learn on thee to call;

Speak, from thy Rock the living tide

Shall burst, true manna fall. That holy bread, those waters give,

Which those who taste for ever live.

66

THERE IS A FRIEND THAT STICKETH CLOSER THAN A BROTHER."

THOUGH in death's dreary slumber

They sleep, the faithful few,

Whom love and sorrow number

As all thy fond heart knew ;

There's yet another,

One more than brother,

Who lives and cares for you.

When those in blood the nearest

Would nature's ties undo;

When those whose love is dearest

Prove heartless and untrue,—

There's One still nearer,

There's One still dearer,

Who cleaves till death to you.

And when the dead shall waken,

And thousands from heaven's view

Go outcast and forsaken,

Shalt thou be friendless too?

In that dread hour

One friend has power,

The friend who died for you.

HABAKKUK III. 17, 18.

ALTHOUGH THE FIG-TREE SHALL NOT BLOSSOM, YET I WILL REJOICE IN THE LORD, I WILL JOY IN THE GOD OF MY SALVATION."

BLIGHTED the fig-tree's blossom fell;

The vine with clusters ceased to swell;
No hand the scanty olives pressed;

No golden sheaves my corn-fields blessed;

My ruined stalls no oxen fed;

The last of all my flock was dead.

And while I mused and mourned, a voice
Breathed softly on my ear, "Rejoice!
Thy vine-yards, olive-yards, and store
Of flocks and herds, shall tempt no more
Thy heart from God to stray;

Clouds were they, interposed between

Thee and that Heaven which now is seen;

Thy vail is ta'en away."

MATTHEW XI. 18. JEREMIAH XXXI. 15.

66

RACHEL WEEPING FOR HER CHILDREN, AND WOULD NOT BE COMFORTED BECAUSE THEY ARE NOT."

THEY are not.

Sleep they in the grave

Where their own palm trees o'er them wave?

Or was their tomb the stranger's land?

The ocean? or the desert sand?

They live, bereaved Rachel: yet
The mother must her own forget;
Branded with God's disclaiming sign,
They are not His, they are not thine.

Though with the tokens of their birth
They go, and, through the realms of earth,

With kings and nobles cast their lot,

To thee, sad Rachel, they are not.

с