Paternal Chastisement.

"TIS my happiness below

Not to live without the cross, But the Saviour's power to know, Sanctifying every loss.

Trials must, and will befall;

But with humble faith to see
Love inscribed upon them all-
This is happiness to me.

God, in Israel, sows the seeds
Of affliction, pain, and toil;
These spring up and choke the weeds,
Which would else o'erspread the soil.
Trials make the promise sweet;

Trials give new life to prayer;

Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

Did I meet no trials here,

No chastisement by the way,
Might I not with reason fear
I should prove a castaway?
Worldlings may escape the rod,

Sunk in earthly vain delight;
But the true-born child of God

Must not, would not, if he might.

Christ our Guide.

GUIDE me, O thou great Jehovah,
Pilgrim through this barren land;
I am weak, but thou art mighty,
Hold me with thy powerful hand;
Bread of heaven

Send me till I want no more.

Open thou the crystal fountain,

Whence the healing streams do flow;

Let the fiery cloudy pillar

Lead me all my journey through;
Strong Deliverer!

Be thou still my strength and shield.

When I tread the verge of Jordan,
Bid my anxious tears subside;
Guide me through the swelling current,
Land me safe on Canaan's side;
Songs of praises

I will ever give to thee.

Heaven is my Home.

I'm but a stranger here-
Heaven is my home.

Earth is a desert drear

Heaven is my home.

Danger and sorrow stand
Round me on every hand;

Heaven is my Fatherland

Heaven is my home.

What though the tempests rageHeaven is my home;

Short is my pilgrimage

Heaven is my home.

And time's wild wintry blast
Soon shall be over past;

I shall reach home at last

Heaven is my home.

There at my Saviour's side-
Heaven is my home;

I shall be glorified

Heaven is my home.

There are the good and blest,
Those I loved most and best,
And there I too shall rest-
Heaven is my home.

Therefore I murmur not

Heaven is my home.

Whate'er my earthly lot—

Heaven is my home.

And I shall surely stand

There at my Lord's right hand,
Heaven is my fatherland-
Heaven is my home.

The Lost Spirit.

WEEP, Sire, with shame and ruing,
Weep for thy child's undoing!
For the days when I was young,

And no prayer was taught my tongue;
Nor the record from on high,

Of the life that cannot die :
Wiles of the world and men-
Of their threescore years and ten;
Earthly profit-human praise,

Thou didst set before my gaze,
As the guiding stars of life,
As the meed of toil and strife;

I ran the world's race well,
And find my portion-HELL!

Weep, Mother, weep-yet know
"Twill not shorten endless woe,
Nor thy prayer unbind my chain,
Thy repentance soften pain,
Nor the life-blood of thy frame
For one moment quench this flame!
Weep not beside my tomb,
That is gentle, painless gloom;
Let the worm and darkness prey
On my senseless slumbering clay;
Weep for the priceless gem
That may not hide with them;
Weep the lost spirit's fate,
Yet know thy tears too late :-
Had they sooner fallen-well,
I had not wept in HELL!

Physician, canst thou weep ?

Then let tears thy pillow steep:

Couldst thou view Time's nearing wave,
Doomed to whelm me in its grave;
The last and lessening space,

My life's brief hour of grace,
Yet with gay, unfaltering tongue,
Promise health and sojourn long?
On the brink of that profound
Without measure, depth, or bound,
View me busied with the toys
Of a world of shadowy joys?