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Through this day Thy hand has led me,
And I thank Thee for Thy care;
Thou hast warm'd me, cloth'd and fed me;
Listen to my evening prayer.

Let my sins be all forgiven,

Bless the friends I love so well;
Take me, when I die, to heaven,
Happy there with Thee to dwell.

JERUSALEM MY HAPPY HOME.-
.-C. M.
"The holy city, New Jerusalem." Rev. xxi. 2.
Jerusalem, my happy home!

Name ever dear to me!

When shall my labors have an end,
In joy, and peace, and thee.

When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls

And pearly gates behold,

Thy bulwarks with salvation strong,

And streets of shining gold?

There happier bowers than Eden's bloom,

Nor sin, nor sorrow know.

Blessed seats! through rude and stormy scenes

I onward press to you.

Why should I shrink from pain and woe,

Or feel at death dismay?

I've Canaan's goodly land in view,

And realms of endless day.

Apostles, martyrs, prophets there,
Around my Saviour stand;

And soon my friends in Christ below,
Will join the glorious band.

Jerusalem, my happy home!

My soul still pants for thee:
Then shall my labors have an end,
When I thy joys shall see.

JUST AS I AM.-P. M.

"Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.John vi. 37.

Just as I am-without one plea,

But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bid'st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come.

Just as I am and waiting not

To rid myself of one dark blot,

To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come.

Just as I am-though toss'd about With many a conflict, many a doubt"Fightings within, and fears without,"

O Lamb of God, I come.

Just as I am-poor, wretched, blind,
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need, in Thee to find.

O Lamb of God, I come.

Just as I am-Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come.

Just as I am-of that free love,

"The breadth, length, depth, and height" to prove, Here for a season, then above,

O Lamb of God, I come.

Just as I am-Thy love, I own,
Has broken every barrier down:
Now, to be Thine, yea Thine alone,

O Lamb of God, I come.

WISDOM OF SOLOMON.-S. M.

King Solomon of old

A happy choice had made;
'Twas not for life, 'twas not for gold
Nor honors that he pray'd.

He chose that better part

That leads to heavenly joys,-
A wise and understanding heart,-
And God approved the choice.

And though both wealth and ease,
And power and honor came,
We find he did not gain from these
His glory and his fame.

Far better than his crown,

And all his grand array,

That wisdom which the Lord sent down,
To guide him in his way.

For wisdom from above,

Will teach us heavenly things;
How we may learn to fear, and love,
And serve the King of kings.

If this is what we seek,

We cannot ask amiss;

The youngest, poorest child may speak,
And ask the Lord for this.

THE HOUR OF DEATH.-P. M.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

Day is for mortal care,

Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer; But all for thee thou mightiest of the earth!

Youth and the opening rose

May look like things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee! but thou art not of those Who wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

We know when moons shall wane,

When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain; But who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Is it when spring's first gale

Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie?
Is it when roses in our paths grow pale?
They have one season, all are ours to die!

Thou art where billows foam,

Thou art where music melts upon the air; Thou art around us in our peaceful home, And the world calls us forth, and thou art there!

Thou art where friend meets friend,

Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest;

Thou art where foe meets foe, and tempests rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all

Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!

F. HEMANS.

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