GOOD DESIRES.

QUIET, Lord, my froward heart,
Make me teachable and mild,
Upright, simple, free from art,

Make me as a weaned child;
From distrust and envy free,
Pleased with all that pleases Thee.

What Thou shalt to-day provide,
Let me as a child receive;
What to-morrow may betide,
Calmly to Thy wisdom leave;
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care,
Why should I the burden bear?

As a little child relies

On a care beyond his own;
Knows he's neither strong nor wise;
Fears to stir a step alone;

Let me thus with Thee abide,
As my Father, Guard, and Guide.

Thus preserved from Satan's wiles,

Safe from dangers, free from fears,

May I live upon Thy smiles,

Till the promis'd hour appears, When the sons of God shall prove All their Father's boundless love.

John Newton.

PRAISE FOR REDEEMING LOVE.

LET us love, and sing, and wonder,
Let us praise the Saviour's Name,
He has hush'd the Law's loud thunder,
He has quench'd Mount Sinai's flame:

He has wash'd us with His blood;
He has brought us nigh to God.

Let us love the Lord who bought us,
Pitied us when enemies,

Called us by His grace, and taught us,

Gave us ears, and gave us eyes;

He has wash'd us with His blood,
He presents our souls to God.

Let us sing, though fierce temptations
Threaten hard to bear us down!
For the Lord, our strong salvation,
Holds in view the Conqu'ror's crown;

He, who wash'd us with His blood,
Soon will bring us home to God.

Let us wonder, Grace and Justice

Join and point to Mercy's shore;

When through grace in God our trust is.

Justice smiles, and asks no more.

He who wash'd us with His Blood,
Has secured our way to God.

PRAISE FOR REDEEMING LOVE.

Let us praise and join the chorus
Of the saints enthroned on high,
Here they trusted Him before us,
Now their praises fill the sky;

"Thou hast wash'd us with Thy blood!
Thou art worthy, Lamb of God!"

Hark! the name of Jesus sounded

Loud from golden harps above!

Lord, we blush, and are confounded,

Faint our praises, cold our love!

Wash our souls and songs with blood,

For by Thee we come to God.

Newton.

A COVERT FROM THE STORM.

JESUS, refuge of my soul,

Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the raging billows roll,

While the tempest still is nigh:

Hide me, O my Saviour, hide
Till the storm of life is past;

Safe into the haven guide;

Then receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none,

Hangs my helpless soul on Thee.

Leave, oh, leave me not alone,

Still support and comfort me ;

A COVERT FROM THE STORM.

All my trust on Thee is laid,

All my help from Thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head

With the shadow of Thy wing.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want;
All in all in Thee I find;
Raise the fallen, cheer the faint,

Heal the sick, and lead the blind.
Just and holy is Thy name,

I am all unrighteousness; Vile and full of sin I am;

Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found,
Grace to pardon all my sin;
Let the healing streams abound,
Make and keep me pure within ;—

Thou of life the fountain art,

Freely let me take of Thee; Spring Thou up within my heart, Rise to all eternity.

Wesley.

SAVIOUR, where'er Thy steps I see,
Dauntless, untir'd I follow Thee:
Olet Thy hand support me still,
And lead me to Thy holy Hill.

If rough and thorny be the way;
My strength proportion to my day;
Till toil, and grief, and pain shall cease
Where all is calm, and joy, and peace.
Same.

THE HERMIT.

Ar the close of the day, when the hamlet is still,
And mortals the sweets of forgetfulness prove,

When nought but the torrent is heard on the hill,
And nought but the Nightingale's song in the grove :
'Twas thus, by the cave of the mountain afar,
While his harp rung symphonious, a hermit began ;
No more with himself or with Nature at war,
He thought as a sage, though he felt as a man.

Ah! why, all abandon'd to darkness and woe,
Why, lone Philomela, that languishing fall?
For spring shall return, and a lover bestow,
And sorrow no longer thy bosom inthral.
But, if pity inspire thee, renew the sad lay,
Mourn, sweetest complainer, man calls thee to mourn;
O soothe him, whose pleasures like thine pass away:
Full quickly they pass-but they never return.

Now gliding remote, on the verge of the sky,
The Moon half extinguish'd her crescent displays :
But lately I mark'd, when majestic on high
She shone, and the planets were lost in her blaze.
Roll on, thou fair orb, and with gladness pursue
The path that conducts thee to splendour again;
But man's faded glory what change shall renew?
Ah, fool! to exult in a glory so vain!

'Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more;
I mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn not for you,
For morn is approaching, your charms to restore,
Perfum'd with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew.