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ALL 'S WELL.

THE day is ended. Ere I fink to sleep,

1 My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine ; Father! forgive my trespasses, and keep

This little life of mine.

With loving kindness curtain Thou my bed,

And cool in rest my burning pilgrim feet; Thy pardon be the pillow for my head, —

So shall my sleep be sweet.

At peace with all the world, dear Lord, and Thee,

No fears my soul's unwavering faith can shake; All's well, whichever side the grave for me The morning light may break!

H. McEwen Kimball.

NIGHT.

L EAR my prayer, O Heavenly Father,
11 Ere I lay me down to sleep :
Bid Thy angels pure and holy

Round my bed their vigil keep.

Great my fins are, but Thy mercy

Far outweighs them every one; Down before Thy cross I cast them,

Trusting in Thy help alone.

Keep me through this night of peril,

Underneath its boundless shade ; Take me to Thy rest, I pray Thee,

When my pilgrimage is made !

None shall measure out Thy patience

By the span of human thought; None shall bound the tender mercies

Which Thy holy Son hath wrought.

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TORD, a happy child of Thine,

L Patient in the love of Thee, In the light, the life divine,

Lives and walks at liberty.

Leaning on Thy tender care

Thou hast led my soul aright;
Fervent was my morning-prayer,

Joyful is my song to-night.

O my Saviour, Guardian true,

All my life is Thine to keep;
At Thy feet my work I do,
In Thy arms I fall asleep.

A. L. Waring.

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In vain that soul attempteth aught,

And spends her thoughts in vain, Who by or in herself hath sought

Defired peace to gain.

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Forgive Thou me, that when my mind

Oppressed begun to be,
I sought elsewhere my peace to find,

Before I came to Thee,
And, gracious God! vouchsafe to grant,

Unworthy though I am,
The needful rest which now I want,
That I may praise Thy name.

George Wither. 1641.

MIDNIGHT.

A WAKE, my soul, awake to prayer ; M1 Thy vigil of the night prepare : Now all around is dark and still, Angels defending us from ill.

The time to sacred thought is dear,
When Thou alone, good Lord, art near ;
Hushed is the world's external din,
That we may hear Thy voice within.

It seems to plead with gentle breath;
Sad child of frailty, heir of death,
Its rest thy wearied body knows ;
O, let thy soul on me repose !

I came to suffer in thy stead;
I had not where to lay my head:
Think on the love that could provide
Blessings for man, to me denied !

Thus silent hours of darkness prove Remembrancers of Jesus' love; While constancy in prayer we learn From each succeeding night's return.

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