From the depths of your hearts pity let it be, – Pray for me! I beg of you whose robes of radiant whiteness Have been kept without a ftain; Of you who, ftung to death by serpent pleasure, Whether holy or forgiven you may be, – And the need is even greater than you see,- I beg of you, O children, for He loves you, That a bird caught in a net may be set free,— I beg of you who ftand before the altar, All the fin and all the sorrow of the ages, And the glory which was always and shall be, — I beg of you, of you who through life's battle Our dear Lord has set apart, That, while we who love the peril are made captives, Still the Church may have its heart Which is fettered that our souls may be set free, Pray for me! I beg of you, I beg of you, my brothers, I am standing on your doorstep as a beggar And the charity you give my soul fhall be,— Miss A. A. Procter. ΟΝ NE prayer I have, all prayers in one, - Thy will, my God, thy will be done, And let that will be mine. All-wise, almighty, and all-good, Thy ways, unknown or understood, May I remember that to Thee Whate'er I have I owe; And back, in gratitude, from me Thy gifts are only then enjoyed, And though thy wisdom takes away, No; let me bless thy name, and say, A pilgrim through the earth I roam, And all muft fail when I go home, For this is not my rest. 7. Montgomery. 1803-1853. THY WILL BE DONE. will be done! I will not fear THY fate provided by thy love; The Though clouds and darkness fhroud me here, The stars of heaven are shining on, Though these frail eyes are dimmed with tears; The hopes of earth indeed are gone, But are not ours th' immortal years? Father! forgive the heart that clings There fhall no doubts difturb its truft, L'en now, above, there's radiant day, Then, Father, joyful on my way To drink the bitter cup I go. Jane Roscoe. 1800. BEGIN WITH GOD. EGIN the day with God! BEG He is thy sun and day; His is the radiance of thy dawn, Sing a new song at morn! Join the glad woods and hills; Join the fresh winds and seas and plains, Join the bright flowers and rills. Sing thy first song to God! Not to the creatures of his hand, Awake, cold lips, and fing! Arise, dull knees, and pray; Lift up, O man, thy heart and eyes; Look up, beyond these clouds! Thy goal is yonder skies. Caft every weight aside! Do battle with each fin; Fight with the faithless world without, Take thy first meal with God! He is thy heavenly food; Feed with and on Him; he with thee |