BREAD of heaven!-on thee I feed,
For thy flesh is meat indeed:
Ever may my soul be fed
With this true and living bread;
Day by day with strength supplied,
Through the life of him who died.
Vine of heaven !-thy blood supplies
This blest cup of sacrifice.
'Tis thy wounds my healing give:
To thy cross I look, and live.
Thou, my life! Oh! let me be
Rooted, grafted, built on thee!
THIS DO IN REMEMBRANCE OF
IF human kindness meets return,
And owns the grateful tie;
If tender thoughts within us burn,
To feel a friend is nigh:
Oh, shall not warmer accents tell
The gratitude we owe
To Him who died, our fears to quell,
Our more than orphan's wo!
While yet his anguish'd soul survey'd
Those pangs he would not flee;
What love his latest words display'd-
"Meet and remember me !"
Remember Thee !-thy death, thy shame,
Our sinful hearts to share ;
Oh, memory, leave no other name
But His recorded there!
Он, thou who dry'st the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,
If, when deceiv'd and wounded here,
We could not fly to thee!
The friends who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;
And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone;
But thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of wo.
When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e'en the hope that threw
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears,
Is dimm'd and vanish'd too!
Oh, who could bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy wing of love
Come brightly wafting through the gloom One Peace-Branch from above!
Then sorrow, touch'd by thec, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day.
COMFORT UNDER AFFLICTION.
WHEN gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few,
On Him I lean, who not in vain
Experienced every human pain.
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.
If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way;
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do;
Still He, who felt temptation's power,
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer wo;
At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
By those who shared his daily bread.
When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;
Yet He who did vouchsafe to bear
The sickening anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.
When mourning o'er some stone I bend, Which covers all that was a friend; And from his voice, his hand, his smile, Divides me for a little while;
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed, For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.
And O! when I have safely passed
Through every conflict but the last;
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed-for thou hast died;
Then point to realms of cloudless day.
And wipe the latest tear away.
On, thou whose mercy guides my way,
Though now it seem severe, Forbid my unbelief to say,
There is no mercy here!
Oh, grant me to desire the pain
That comes in kindness down,
More than the world's supremest gain
Succeeded by a frown.
Then, though thou bend my spirit low,
Love only shall I see
The very hand that strikes the blow
Was wounded once for me.
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