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Thou art, O Lord, my only trust,
When friends are mingled with the dust,

And all my loves are gone.
When earth has nothing to bestow,
And every flower is dead below,

I look to Thee alone.

Thou wilt not leave, in doubt and fear,
The humble soul, who loves to hear

The lessons of Thy word.
When foes around us thickly press,
And all is danger and distress,

There's safety in the Lord.
The bosom friend may sleep below
The churchyard turf, and we may go

To close a loved one's eyes :
They will not always slumber there;
We see a world more bright and fair,

A home beyond the skies.
And we may feel the bitter dart,
Most keenly rankling in the heart,

By some dark ingrate driven :
In us revenge can never burn;
We pity, pardon; then we turn,

And rest our souls in heaven.
'Tis thou, O Lord, who shield'st my head,
And draws't Thy curtains round my bed ;

I sleep secure in Thee :
And, Oh, may soon that time arrive,
When we before Thy face shall live
Through all eternity.


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« The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him."

“I would, but cannot pray,"
Lord, teach me! day by day,

Thy grace impart;
Pour thy rich blessings down,


heart to own, My God, Thou art!

Teach me to feel the need
Of Christ, who deigned to bleed,

My soul to save :
Let me not spurn his love,
Thy Spirit from above

Give, as he gave.
Thy righteous wrath forbear,
Oh, may this humble prayer

To thee ascend !
Be Thou in life and death,
E'en to my latest breath,

My guardian friend.
Shield me from every ill,
Be Thou my refuge, till

Earth's storms are o'er ;
Oh, let thy still small voice,
This drooping heart rejoice,

Lord, evermore!

Check every vain desire,
Kindle within a fire

Of holy zeal ;
Let me look up to thee
For aid, where'er I be,

'Midst woe or weal. Cambridge.

G. W. An.

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“Mother, I love you, "-earthly things

Are fading from my sight,
Their joys and sorrows all are past,

Like bygone dreams of night;
But, unforgotten still remain

Your kindness and your care, Who shielded me through youth's gay hours,

From many a fatal snare.

“Mother, I love you!" He who died,

Revered his parent too-
His latest glance was turned on her,

And mine shall be for you:
Thy gentle hand my pillow smooths,

Thine arm supports my head,
Kind watchfulness and tenderness

Surround my dying bed.

Oh, how unlike my Saviour God,

When hanging on the tree !
No mother from his brow wiped off

The dews of agony-
No cooling drink assuaged his thirst,

But mockery, taunt, and sneer
Were offered by the murderous band,

Who were assembled near.

But I, surrounded by my friends,

Shall softly sink to rest;
Faith lights the darksome vale of death,

And fills with joy my breast;
Mother, farewell ! when life is o'er,

God grant that we may meet
On Canaan's blest and radiant shore,

In bliss at Jesu's feet!


THE CHRISTIAN EXILE. (Written by the Rev. I. Bridgman, a few weeks before his last

Where is that summer, with eternal sun?

Resplendent glory! ne'er beheld on earth ;
And when to us this weary life is done,
Where is that region with its hallowed mirth ?

Far from this low, dark land.
Where is the temple of Jehovah shining-

The sacred portals, and the joyful strains,
Where all the spirits of the just combining
Sing loud hosannas on those blisful plains?

Far from this low, dark land.
There where the Seraphim and Cherubim,

The ancient prophets, and the hoary seers,
And martyred saints, join in one sacred hymn,
With all the ransomed from this vale of tears,

Far from this low, dark land.
There is that summer and that temple shining,

Prophets and martyrs, saints and seraph there,
Where Jesus is; in Heaven all combining,

Shout his high praises, and his glory share.
Spirits, immortal! haste from earth away

To realms of love, and joy, and endless light-
To mansions shining in perpetual day,
Where is nor sin, nor woe, nor death, nor night,

In our Emmanuel's land.


Content, hope, friendship, make the life of man,
His happiness is measured by their span,
But love's the noblest, richest, and the best,
Like a calm isle on ocean's troubled breast;
A green oasis 'midst the desert sand,
Or well of water in a thirsty land ;
Then, oh! if earthly love be found so great,
What richer goods in heavenly love await,
This turns the desert to a fruitful plain,
And speaks the troubled waves to rest again,
Gives gushing fountains to the thirsty soul,
And makes the weary, wounded spirit whole.

M. M. F.

COME TO CHRIST. “Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the Sons of God: Beloved, now are we the Sons of God.”

1 John iii. 1, 2.
The wanderer no more will roam,
The lost one to the fold hath come,
The prodigal is welcomed home,

O Lamb of God, in Thee!

Though clad in rags, by sin defiled,
The Father hath embraced his child,
And I am pardoned, reconciled,

O Lamb of God, in Thee!
It is the Father's joy to bless,
His love provides for me a dress,
A robe of spotless righteousness,

O Lamb of God, in Thee!
Now shall my famished soul be fed,
A feast of love for me is spread,
I feed upon the children's bread,

O Lamb of God, in Thee!
Yea, in the fulness of His grace,
He puts me in the children's place,
Where I may gaze upon his face,

O Lamb of God, in thee!

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