Through ftrife to peace!

And though, with bristling front,

A thousand frightful deaths encompass thee, Good cheer! good cheer! Brave thou the battle's brunt, For the peace-march and song of victory.

Through sweat to fleep! And though the sultry noon
With heavy, drooping wing oppress thee now,
Good cheer! good cheer! The cool of evening soon
Shall lull to sweet repose thy weary brow.

Through cross to crown!
Trials untold affail with
Good cheer! good cheer!

And though thy spirit's life giant ftrength,

Soon ends the bitter strife,

And thou shalt reign in peace with Christ at length.

Through woe to joy!— And though at morn thou weep,
And though the midnight finds thee weeping still,
Good cheer! good cheer! The Shepherd loves his sheep:
Refign thee to the watchful Father's will.

Through death to life! — And through this vale of tears,
And through this thistle-field of life, ascend

To the great supper in that world whose years
Of bliss unfading, cloudless, know no end.

Kosegarten.

WH

HEN darkness long has veiled my mind,
And smiling day once more appears,

Then, my Creator! then I find

The folly of my doubts and fears.

Straight I upbraid my wandering heart,
And blush that I fhould ever be
Thus prone to act so base a part,
Or harbor one hard thought of Thee.

O, let me then at length be taught

What I am till so flow to learn, That God is love, and changes not,

Nor knows the fhadow of a turn.

Sweet truth, and easy to repeat !

But when my faith is fharply tried,

I find myself a learner yet,

Unskilful, weak, and apt to flide.

But, O my God! one look from Thee
Subdues the disobedient will,

Drives doubt and discontent away,

And thy rebellious child is ftill.

William Cowper. 1779.

"THY WILL BE DONE."

Y God, my Father! while I ftray,

MY

Far from my home, on life's rough way,

O teach me from my heart to say,

"Thy will be done!"

Though dark my path, and sad my lot,
Let me "be ftill," and murmur not,
Or breathe the prayer, divinely taught,
"Thy will be done!"

What though in lonely grief I sigh
For friends beloved, no longer nigh;
Submiffive ftill would I reply,

"Thy will be done!"

If thou shouldft call me to refign
What most I prize, it ne'er was mine;
I only yield thee what was thine :
"Thy will be done!"

Should pining fickness wafte away
My life in premature decay,

My Father! ftill I ftrive to say,
Thy will be done!"

If but my fainting heart be bleft
With thy sweet spirit for its guest,
My God! to thee I leave the rest,
"Thy will be done!"

Renew my will from day to day,
Blend it with thine, and take away
All now that makes it hard to say,
"Thy will be done!"

Then, when on earth I breathe no more
The prayer, oft mixed with tears before,
I'll fing upon a happier fhore,

"Thy will be done!"

Charlotte Elliott.

JUDGE NOT.

UDGE not; the workings of his brain
And of his heart thou canst not see;
What looks to thy dim eyes a stain
In God's pure light may only be

A scar, brought from some well-won field,
Where thou wouldst only faint and yield.

The look, the air, that frets thy fight
May be a token that below

The soul has closed in deadly fight

With some infernal fiery foe,

Whose glance would scorch thy smiling grace, And caft thee fhuddering on thy face!

May be the angel's flackened hand
Has suffered it, that he may rise

And take a firmer, surer ftand;
Or, trusting less to earthly things,
May henceforth learn to use his wings.

And judge none loft; but wait and see,
With hopeful pity, not disdain;
The depth of the abyss may be

The measure of the height of pain
And love and glory that may raise

This soul to God in after days!

Miss A. A. Procter.

HASTE NOT! REST NOT!

WITHOUT hafte! without reft!

Wind the motto to

Bind the motto to thy breast;

Bear it with thee as a spell;

Storm or sunshine, guard it well!