ALL'S WELL.

'HE day is ended.

THE

Ere I fink to fleep,

My weary spirit seeks repose in Thine;
Father! forgive my trespaffes, and keep
This little life of mine.

With loving kindness curtain Thou my bed,
And cool in reft my burning pilgrim feet;
Thy pardon be the pillow for my head,
So fhall my fleep 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 fide the grave for me

The morning light may break!

NIGHT.

H. McEwen Kimball.

H

EAR my prayer, O Heavenly Father,

Ere I lay me down to fleep:

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,
Trufting in Thy help alone.

Keep me through this night of peril,
Underneath its boundless fhade;
Take me to Thy reft, I pray Thee,
When my pilgrimage is made!

None fhall measure out Thy patience
By the span of human thought;
None fhall bound the tender mercies
Which Thy holy Son hath wrought.

Pardon all my past transgreffions ;

Give me ftrength for days to come; Guide and guard me with Thy bleffing Till Thine angels bid me home! Thomas Park.

1797.

AN EVENING SONG.

LORD, a happy child of Thine,

Patient in the love of Thee,

In the light, the life divine,

Lives and walks at liberty.

Leaning on Thy tender care
Thou haft 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.

WHEN WE CANNOT SLEEP.

HAT ails my heart, that in my breaft

WHAT

It thus unquiet lies;

And that it now of needful reft

Deprives my tired eyes?

Let not vain hopes, griefs, doubts or fears,
Distemper so my mind;

But caft on God thy thoughtful cares,
And comfort thou fhalt find.

In vain that soul attempteth aught,
And spends her thoughts in vain,
Who by or in herself hath sought
Defired peace to gain.

In vain as rifing in the morn
Before the day appear;

In vain to bed we late return,
And lie unquiet there.

For when of reft our fin deprives,
When cares do waking keep;
'Tis God, and He alone, that gives
To His beloved fleep.

On Thee, O Lord! on Thee therefore,
My mufings now I place :

Thy free remiffion I implore,

And Thy refreshing grace.

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 reft which now I want,

That I may praise Thy name.

George Wither. 1641.

MIDNIGHT.

AWAKE, my soul, awake to prayer;

Thy vigil of the night prepare:

Now all around is dark and ftill,
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 reft thy wearied body knows;
O, let thy soul on me repose!

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

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