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Hands, love-clasped through charméd hours,

Feet that press the bruiséd flowers,

Is there aught for you to dare

That ye may His fignet bear?
In this easy, painless life,

Free from ftruggle, care, and strife,
Ever on my doubting breast
Lies the fhadow of unreft;
This no path that Jesus trod;
Can the smooth way lead to God?

But when chaftening ftripes descend,
Welcoming as friend doth friend,
Thy dear tokens, Lord, I know,
And to Thee unerring go;

Bleffed tears flow warm and free,
Thou doft love me,

even me.

Pomp and ease, and praise of men,
All are loathed and scornéd then,
Since my Lord, my Love, hath died,
Mocked and scourged and crucified.

By the agony and pain.
Of the torture-ftricken brain,
By the riches of Thy love,

Let not suffering barren prove ;
Pledge and emblem 't would remain.

Of the dark and sullen pain,

Where nor love nor good doth live,
And the bleffed word "forgive"
Comes not with its subtle art,
Softening, healing, any heart.

In the little islet Time
Of Eternity sublime,

Standing on the floping brink,
Let me of Thy chalice drink,
Be baptized with Thy baptism,
And be crowned with Thy love-chrism;
Slain with Thee in darkest hour,
Feel Thy resurrection power,
Till where Thou art I may be,
Perfected, dear Lord, with Thee!

Chriftian Mirror.

DE

EEM not that they are bleft alone Whose days a peaceful tenor keep; The God who loves our race has shown A bleffing for the eyes that weep.

The light of smiles fhall fill again.
The lids that overflow with tears,
And weary hours of woe and pain
Are earnests of serener years.

O, there are days of hope and rest
For every dark and troubled night!
And grief may bide, an evening guest,
But joy fhall come with early light.

And thou who o'er thy friend's low bier
Doft fhed the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
Will give him to thy arms again.

Nor let the good man's truft depart,
Though life its common gifts deny;
Though with a pierced and broken heart,
And spurned of men, he goes to die.

For God hath marked each anguished day,
And numbered every secret tear;
And heaven's long age of bliss fhall pay

For all His children suffer here.

Wm. C. Bryant.

ATHER, when o'er our trembling hearts

FA

Doubt's fhadows gathering brood,

When faith in Thee almoft departs,

And gloomieft fears intrude,

Forsake us not, O God of grace,
But send those fears relief;

Grant us again to see Thy face;
Lord, help our unbelief.

When sorrow comes, and joys are flown,
And fondeft hopes lie dead,

And bleffings, long efteemed our own,
Are now forever fled,

When the bright promise of our spring

Is but a withered leaf,

Lord, to thy truths ftill let us cling;
Help Thou our unbelief.

And when the powers of nature fail
Upon the couch of pain,

Nor love nor friendship can avail
The spirit to detain,

Then, Father, be our clofing eyes
Undimmed by tears of grief;

And if a trembling doubt arise,
Help Thou our unbelief.

Rev. S. G. Bulfinch.

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THE REQUEST.

THOU who didft deny to me

This world's adored felicity,

And every big, imperious luft,

Which fools admire in finful duft
With those fine subtle twifts that tie

Their bundles of foul gallantry,

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Keep ftill my weak eyes from the shine
Of those gay things which are not Thine!
And fhut my ears against the noise
Of wicked, though applauded, joys!
For Thou in any land haft ftore
Of fhades and coverts for Thy poor;
Where from the busy duft and heat,
As well as ftorms, they may retreat.
A rock or bush are downy beds,

When Thou art there, crowning their heads
With secret bleffings, or a tire

Made of the Comforter's live fire.

And when Thy goodness, in the dress

Of anger, will not seem to bless,

Yet doft Thou give them that rich rain,
Which, as it drops, clears all again.
O what kind vifits daily pass

'Twixt Thy great self and such poor grass!

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