"MY SON, GIVE ME THY HEART." Prov. xxiii. 26.-c. M.
Oh for a heart to praise my God,
A heart from sin set free;
A heart that's sprinkled with the blood
So freely shed for me!
A heart resigned, submissive, meek,
My dear Redeemer's throne;
Where only Christ is heard to speak;
Where Jesus reigns alone.
An humble, lowly, contrite heart,
Believing, true, and clean,
Which neither death nor life can part
From Him that dwells within.
A heart in every thought renewed,
And filled with love divine;
Perfect, and right, and pure, and good,
A copy, Lord, of Thine.
Thy nature, gracious Lord, impart:
Come quickly from above:
Write Thy new name upon my heart
Thy new best name of love.
One by one the sands are flowing,
One by one the moments fall;
Some are coming, some are going,
Do thou strive to grasp them all.
One by one thy duties wait thee,
Let thy whole strength go to each;
Let no future dreams elate thee,
Learn thou first what these can teach.
One by one (bright gifts from heaven,)
Joys are sent thee here below;
Take them readily when given,
Ready too, to let them go.
Do not linger with regretting,
Or for passing hours despond;
Nor the daily toil forgetting,
Look too eagerly beyond.
Do not look on life's long sorrow,
See how small each moment's pain;
God will help thee for to-morrow,
Every day begin again.
Every hour that passes slowly,
Has its task to do or bear;
Luminous the crown and holy,
If thou set each gem with care.
Hours are golden links, God's tokens,
Reaching heaven-but one by one,
Take them lest the chain be broken-
E'er the pilgrimage be done.
JESUS OUR FRIEND.-8. 7. 7.
One there is above all others,
Well deserves the name of friend; His is love beyond a brother's, Costly, free, and knows no end. They who once His kindness prove, Find it everlasting love.
Which of all our friends to save us, Could or would have shed his blood; But our Jesus died to have us
Reconcil'd in Him to God.
This was boundless love indeed,
Jesus is a friend in need.
When He liv'd on earth abased,
Friend of sinners was His name;
Now above all glory raised
He rejoices in the same:
Still He calls us brethren, friends,
And to all our wants attends.
Oh for grace, our hearts to soften ;
Teach us, Saviour, love for love;
We, alas forget too often,
What a friend we have above;
But when to our home we're brought,
We shall love Thee as we ought.
THE CHRISTIAN PILGRIM'S HOPE.
One sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me o'er and o'er,
I'm nearer home to-day,
Than ever I was before.
Nearer my Father's house
Where the many mansions be;
Nearer the great white throne,
Nearer the crystal sea.
Nearer the bound of life
Where we lay our burdens down;
Nearer leaving the cross,
Nearer taking the crown.
Lying darkly between,
Winding down thro' the night,
Is the deep and unknown stream,
Which leads at last to the light.
Jesus perfect my trust,
Strengthen the hand of my faith, Let me feel Thee near when I stand On the edge of the shore of death!
Feel Thee near when my feet
Are slipping over the brink;
For it may be, I'm nearer home,
Nearer now than I think.
Pause not to dream of the future before us;
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us;
Hark how creation's deep musical chorus
Unintermitting goes up into heaven!
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing,
Never the little seed stops in its growing,
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.
"Labour is worship!" the robin is singing,
"Labour is worship!" the wild bee is ringing;
Listen that eloquent whisper upspringing;
Speaks to the soul from out Nature's heart.
From the dark cloud comes the life-giving shower,
From the rough sod springs the soft breathing flower,
From the small insect the rich coral bower,
Only man, in the plan, ever shrinks from his part.
Labour is life!-'tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth :
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labour is glory! the flying cloud lightens,
Only the waving wing changes and brightens,
Idle hearts ever the dark future frightens,
Play the sweet keys would'st thou keep them in tune.
Labour is rest from the sorrows that greet us,
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from sin promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
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