THE GOD OF COMFORT.

B. Barton.

How sweet to think, in sorrow's hour,
That He who reigns above,

Although supreme in sovereign power,
Is as supreme in love.

How sweet to know, when thus the axe
Is to our gourds decreed,

He will not quench the smoking flax,
Nor break the bruised reed.

But that to those who kiss the rod,
By him in mercy sent,

The staff of comfort from their God
Shall in His love be lent.

For God, who binds the broken heart,
And dries the mourner's tear,
If faith and patience be their part,
Will unto these be near.

Let such but say, "Thy will be done!"

And He who Jesus raised

Will qualify them through his love,

To add, "Thy name be praised!"

"PEACE! BE STILL."

Felicia Bemans.

FEAR was within the tossing bark,
When stormy winds grew loud;
And waves came rolling high and dark,
And the tall mast was bowed.

And men stood breathless in their dread,
And baffled in their skill;

But One was there, who rose and said
To the wild sea, "Be still!"

And the wind ceased-it ceased-that word
Passed through the gloomy sky;

The troubled billows knew their Lord,
And sank beneath his eye.

And slumber settled on the deep,
And silence on the blast;

As when the righteous fall asleep,
When death's fierce throes are past.

Thou, that didst rule the angry hour,
And tame the tempest's mood,
Oh! send thy Spirit forth in power,
O'er our dark souls to brood.

Thou, that didst bow the billows' pride,
Thy mandates to fulfil-

So speak to passion's raging tide,

Speak and say-"Peace! be still.”

THE SWEETNESS OF RESTING ON GOD.

Toplady.

WHEN langour and disease invade
This trembling house of clay,
'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage,
And long to soar away.

Sweet to look inward, and attend
The whispers of his love;
Sweet to look upward to the throne
Where Jesus pleads above.

Sweet to look back, and see my name
In life's fair book marked down;
Sweet to look forward, and behold
Eternal joy my own.

Sweet to reflect, how grace divine
My sins on Jesus laid;

Sweet to remember that thy death
My debt of suffering paid.

Sweet on thy faithfulness to rest,
Whose love can never end;
Sweet on thy covenant of grace
For all things to depend.

Sweet in the confidence of faith,
To trust thy truth divine;
Sweet to lie passive in thy hands,
And have no will but thine.

TO AN INFANT SMILING AS IT AWOKE.

AFTER the sleep of night, as some still lake
Displays the cloudless heaven in reflection,
And, dimpled by the breezes, seems to break
Into a waking smile of recollection,
As if from its calm depths the morning light
Call'd up the pleasant dreams that gladden'd night—

So doth the laughing azure of those eyes
Display a mental heaven of its own:

In that illumined smile I recognise

The sun-light of a sphere to us unknown ; Thou hast been dreaming of some previous bliss In other worlds-for thou art new to this.

Hast thou been wafted to elysian bowers

In some blest star, where thou hast pre-existed; Inhaled the extatic fragrancy of flowers About the golden harps of seraphs twisted; Or heard the nightingales of paradise Hymn choral songs and joyous harmonies?

Perchance all breathing life is but an essence
Of the great Fountain Spirit in the sky,
And thou hast dream'd of that transcendant presence
Whence thou hast fall'n, a dew-drop from on high-
Destined to lose, as thou shalt mix with earth,

Those bright recallings of thy heavenly birth.