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TRY ILL BE DORE, ROT MINE.

"And He said, Abba, Father, all things are possible unto Thee; take away this cup from Me: nevertheless not what I will, but what Thou wilt." MARK XIV. 36.

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Thy will not mine, how great soe'er my crosses,
Patient I'll bear what Thy word doth ordain-
Remembering that the heaviest earthly losses,
Shall, all combined, prove one eternal gain :

Then shall Thy will be done, and mine.

THE MINSTRELSY OF CARGE."

"And it came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.".

H! witching power of music.
To soothe the ruffled breast,
And still the storms of passion
And comfort the distressed-
The voice of God Almighty
To sinning, suffering man,
Unholy thoughts to banish,
And holy ones to fan.

For God's own voice is speaking
From tiny, warbling throats,
When nightingales are chanting
Their wild and limpid notes;
And God's own voice is speaking
Through rustling forest leaves,
And when the wind goes sighing

Through autumn's golden sheaves:

And, when the storm beats wildly
O'er mountain and o'er moor,

And fills with consternation
The richest and the poor,

And in its fury smiteth

The iron rock-bound coast
With sounds as heart-dismaying

As tramp of hostile host:

And when the summer ripples
Fall faintly on the beach,

And baby-lips are prattling

In half-formed, broken speech;
And woodland streams come sparkling,

Light tripping o'er the stones,
And cuckoos in the coppice add
Their melancholy tones:

And when the thunder pealeth

Its deep and solemn roll,

And ocean's surging bosom

Heaves on from pole to pole;

For all in one glad chorus

-(Fair Nature's world-wide band

Performing glorious minstrelsy,
On every sea and land)-

Jehovah's words are speaking
To sinful suffering flesh,
To calm the Satan-harassed ones
And weary ones refresh ;

See note B, page 82.

1 SAMUEL Xvi. 23.

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And raise the thoughts of triflers
From earth to the blue sky,
And bend their souls in worship
Of Him who reigns on high.

O, soft Eolian sighings!

O, cataracts' ceaseless roar !
O, chimes from the old belfry
Of gray cathedral hoar!
O, bells on Sabbath morning
Across the waving corn!
O, whispers of the forest!

O, Switzer's mountain horn!

O, winds' funereal dirges

O'er ocean's moaning face!
O, earthquake's crash stupendous !
O, thunder's awful bass!
O, splashing of the fountain!
O, humming of the bee!
O, wailing of the tempest!
O, sobbing of the sea!

O, sweet and dulcet warblings
From many a leafy nest!
O, words of love and kindness
From sympathizing breast!
O, ringing laugh of childhood!
O, strains of lute and lyre!
O, deep, majestic organ!

O, church's human choir!

Your lighter sounds are soothing
Like some soft hallowed spell
That when the heart is aching

Befits its sadness well!

As when on wound that's smarting

Is poured a healing balm,

So on the mind that's anguished
Ye breathe a blessed calm:

And your deeper tones, O music,
Inspire man's heart and voice,
And bid him glorify his God
And evermore rejoice,

And to the great Creator
Of every blessed sound
Assist to join the chorus

From earth's remotest bound.

Then oh! Jehovah's servants
Bring all your several parts-
Ye Mendelssohns and Beethovens !
Ye Handels and Mozarts!
Loud swell Creation's anthem

O'er every shore and sea,

Till with the host of the redeemed Ye praise the glorious Three!

THE WOOER AND THE WooED.

"My Beloved spake and said unto me, Rise up, My love, My fair one, and come away."-SONG OF SOL. II. 10.

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"I am the true Vine, and my Father is the Husbandman. Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit He taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, He purgeth it that it may bring forth more fruit."

THE BRANCH.

AKE me more fruitful, O my Lord, that I may ever be

Laden with bunches full and ripe, acceptable to Thee;

JOHN XV. 1, 2.

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Bunches from which Thou may'st express the rich and ruddy wine,
Bunches that are no shame to Thee, the true and only Vine."

THE VINE.

"Would'st thou a branch more fruitful be with glorious bunches crowned?
Then o'er thy treasures and thy joys cast a fond look around;
Find that thou holdest now most dear: count it no longer thine-
Cast it away it cumbereth the true and only Vine.'

THE BRANCH.

"Over my treasures and my joys, I've cast my grateful eyes,
And find that stocks and shares and gold are what I chiefly prize;
These would I gladly cast away if they were really mine:

But they support my heavy weight, and so relieve the Vine."

THE VINE.

"The Vine requires no help from thee, nor from thy hoarded store;
The sap Divine supports and flows, and permeates each pore:

So cast away thy golden crutch, and ere long thou shalt see

How the life-blood that's in My veins shall flow as well through thee."

THE BRANCH.

I've cast away my golden crutch, and now I clearly see,

How with Thy life-blood in my veins I shall more fruitful be;
With money now no more to heed, I give my constant care,
To my bright and bonny baby-boy, the richest cluster there."

THE VINE.

"That richest cluster now is ripe, its ripeness shall be proved;
It shall no longer bear thee down, but be at once removed;
Then, with this source of weakness gone, again I will essay
To look for richer, riper fruit upon a future day."

THE BRANCH.

"Oh! stay, my Lord, and cut not there; Thou makest a mistake:
Thou hast had all my bunches: there are no more to take:
But now Thou stabbest through myself-my body, soul, and life-
Oh! stay Thy hand ere 'tis too late; Thou cuttest off my wife!"

THE VINE.

"When thou wast young I thought it well that thou should'st have a wife,
To help, support, and comfort thee, and bear thee on in life;

But now she tangleth herself too much about thy heart,

And bears thee down; so bid farewell, for then she must depart."

THE BRANCH.

"Then cut and prune, if so Thou wilt; Thou knowest what is best;
Let but Thy sap course through my veins; to Thee I leave the rest:

If but Thy sap shall nourish me I pray that I may shine

A branch luxuriant upon the true and only Vine."

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