The love of God in Chrift made known,The love that is enough alone,

My Father's love is all my own.

My soul's Reftorer, let me learn

In that deep love to live and rest, Let me the precious thing discern Of which I am indeed poffeffed. My treasure let me feel and see, And let my moments, as they flee, Unfold my endless life in Thee.

Let me not dwell so much within

My bounded heart, with anxious heed,
Where all my searches meet with fin,
And nothing satisfies my need.
It shuts me from the sound and fight
Of that pure world of life and light,
Which has no breadth or length or height.

Let me Thy power, Thy beauty see;
So fhall the hopeless labor cease,
And my free heart fhall follow Thee

Through paths of everlasting peace.

My ftrength Thy gift, my life Thy care, — I fhall forget to seek elsewhere

The wealth to which my soul is heir.

I was not called to walk alone,

To clothe myself with love and light;

And for Thy glory, not my own,

My soul is precious in Thy fight. My evil heart can never be

A home, a heritage for me,—

But Thou canst make it fit for Thee.

Miss A. L. Waring. 1862.

MY

Y heart is refting, O my God, –
I will give thanks and fing;

My heart is at the secret source

Of every precious thing.

Now the frail veffel Thou haft made

No hand but Thine can fill, -

-

For the waters of the earth have failed,
And I am thirsty still.

I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And here all day they rise;

I seek the treasure of Thy love,
And close at hand it lies.
And a new song is in my mouth,
To long-loved mufic set, -
Glory to Thee for all the grace

I have not tasted yet.

Glory to Thee for ftrength withheld,
For want and weakness known,-

And the fear that sends me to Thy breast
For what is most my own.

I have a heritage of joy

That yet I must not see;

But the hand that bled to make it mine
Is keeping it for me.

There is a certainty of love
That sets my heart at reft,
A calm affurance for to-day
That to be poor is best,
A prayer repofing on His truth
Who hath made all things mine,
That draws my captive will to Him,
And makes it one with Thine.

I will give thanks for suffering now,
For want and toil and loss,

For the death that fin makes hard and flow,
Upon my Saviour's cross.

Thanks for the little spring of love

That gives me ftrength to say,

If they will leave me part in Him,

Let all things pass away.

Miss A. L. Waring. 1862.

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee: because he trufteth in Thee." ISA. xxvi. 3.

THIS is bleffing, this is reft!

Into thine arms, O Lord, I flee:

I hide me in thy faithful breast,

And pour out all my soul to Thee.
There is a hoft diffuading me, —
But, all their voices far above,

I hear thy words, "O tafte and see
The comfort of a Saviour's love."
And, hushing every adverse sound,
Songs of defence my soul surround,
As if all saints encamped about
One trusting heart, pursued by doubt.

And O how solemn, yet how sweet,
Their one affured, persuafive strain!
"The Lord of Hofts is thy retreat,
The Man who bore thy fin, thy pain.
Still in his hand thy times remain,-
Still of his body thou art part;
And he will prove his right to reign
O'er all things that concern thy heart."
O tenderness, O truth divine!

Lord, I am altogether thine.

I have bowed down, I need not flee,

Peace, peace is mine in trufting Thee.

And now I count supremely kind
The rule that once I thought severe,
And precious to my altered mind
At length thy leaft reproofs appear.
Now to the love that cafts out fear
Mercy and truth indeed seem one;
Why should I hold my ease so dear?
The work of training must be done.
I must be taught what I would know
I must be led where I would go,
And all the rest ordained for me,
Till that which is not seen I see,
Is to be found in trufting Thee.

Miss A. L. Waring.

PSALM xiii. 7, 8.

O not far from me, O my Strength,
Whom all my times obey;

Take from me anything Thou wilt,

But go not Thou away,

And let the ftorm that does Thy work
Deal with me as it may.

On Thy compaffion I repose,
In weakness and diftress :