Remember Him when morning light
Shines on thine opening eyes;
And when the night shades gathering round,
With soft stars gem the skies.
'Tis He who guards thy helpless sleep
From terrors dark and wild :
'Tis He who gives each joyous day-
Forget Him not, my child!
Think of Him in thy busiest hours
With book, and map, and sum,
When to the earnest, patient mind,
No other thought should come.
One loving, truthful look towards Him,
Will make a dull room bright,
And hardest tasks, and tiresome sum,
Seem strangely clear and bright.
Remember that in work, or play,
His eye is fixed on thee,
And at that loving holy glance,
Let sloth and anger flee.
When selfishness and dark deceit
Would lead thy soul astray,
One earnest, prayerful thought of Him,
Will drive these foes away.
ROCK OF AGES.-7's.
Rock of ages, cleft for me,
Let me hide myself in Thee !
Let the water and the blood,
From Thy wounded side that flowed,
Be of sin the double cure,
Cleanse me from its guilt and power.
Not the labour of my hands
Can fulfil Thy law's demands;
Could my zeal no respite know,
Could my tears for ever flow,
All for sin could not atone:
Thou must save, and Thou alone.
Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to Thee for dress,
Helpless, look to Thee for grace:
Black, I to the fountain fly,
Wash me, Saviour, or I die !
While I draw this fleeting breath, When my eye-lids close in death, When I soar to worlds unknown, See Thee on Thy judgment throne, Rock of ages, shelter me!
Let me hide myself in Thee.
SATURDAY EVENING.-7's. M.
Safely through another week,
God hath brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
On the coming Sabbath day:
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.
Mercies multiplied each hour
Through the week our praise demand,
Guarded by Thy mighty power,
Fed and guided by Thy hand :—
Now from worldly care set free,
May we rest this night with Thee.
When the morn shall bid us rise,
May we feel Thy presence near!
May Thy glory meet our eyes,
When we in Thy house appear;
Holy may each Sabbath prove,
Till we join the church above!
See the kind Shepherd, Jesus stands
With all-engaging charms;
Hark, how He calls the tender lambs,
And folds them in His arms.
Permit them to approach He cries,
Nor scorn their humble name;
For 'twas to bless such souls as these
The Lord of angels came.
He'll lead us to the heavenly streams,
Where living waters flow;
And guide us to the fruitful fields,
Where trees of knowledge grow.
The feeblest lamb amidst the flock
Shall be its Shepherd's care:
While folded in the Saviour's arms,
We're safe from every snare.
THE SONG OF MIRIAM.-P. M.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea!
Jehovah hath triumphed! His people are free!
Sing-for the pride of the tyrant is broken;
His chariots and horsemen, all splendid and brave,How vain was their boasting! the Lord hath but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave! Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah hath triumphed! His people are free!
Praise to the Conqueror! praise to the Lord!
His word was our arrow-His breath was our sword!
Who shall return, to tell Egypt the story
Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride? The Lord hath looked out from His pillar of glory,
And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide : Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea! Jehovah hath triumphed! His people are free!
TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW.
"Take no thought for the morrow," its trials or dangers;
Why burden thy spirit with deepening gloom?
Ah! to-day hath enough to distress and perplex thee,
It needeth no shadow of dark things to come.
"Take no thought for the morrow," no sorrow shall touch thee,
But that which thy God in His love hath decreed; Go to Christ with thy grief, as it daily ariseth,
And seek for His strength in the moment of need. "Take no thought for the morrow," rich mercy abounding
Has marked every step of thy pathway till now; Put thy trust, then, in God, for the still distant future, Effacing those dark lines of care from thy brow. "Take no thought for the morrow," its dawning may find thee
A spirit of rest 'neath the altar of God,
With the last battle fought, and the last trial ended, The victory won through Emmanuel's blood.
A PSALM OF LIFE.
Tell me not in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to-day.
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