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Star of morn and even,
Shine on us from Heaven,
From thy glory-throne
Hear thy very own!
Lord and Saviour, come,
Lead us to our home!

F. T. Palgrave.

1862.

AUTHOR of good, to thee we turn :
A Thine ever wakeful eye
Alone can all our wants discern,

Thy hand alone supply.

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And, O, by error's force subdued,

Since oft, with stubborn will, We blindly shun the latent good,

And grasp the specious ill,

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PRAISE.

“ All things are yours, .... things present.” – 1 Cor. iii. 21, 22.

W H ILE toil and warfare urge us on our way,

V And heart is answering heart in fighs of pain, Have we no words of strengthening joy to say, —

No songs for those who suffer but to reign ?

O for the faithful mind, the steadfast eye,

To keep our Leader's glory full in sight, And make our converse, even while we die,

An interchange of triumph and delight!

Behold, the paths of life are ours, — we see

Our blest inheritance where'er we tread; Sorrow and danger our security,

And disappointment lifting up our head.

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Yes, all is for us ; nothing shall withstand

Our faithful, valiant, persevering claim ; The rod of God's Anointed in our hand,

And our assurance 'His unchanging name.

We need no haste where He has said, “Be still,” —

No peace where He has charged us to contend; Only the fearless love to do His will,

And to show forth His honor to the end.

O ye that faint and die, arise and live!

Sing, ye that all things have a charge to bless ! If He is faithful who hath sworn to give,

Then be ye also faithful, and possess.

Take thy whole portion with thy Master's mind,

Toil, hindrance, hardness, with His virtue take, – And think how short a time thy heart may find

To labor or to suffer for His sake.

Count all the pains that speed thee to thy rest

Among the riches of thy purchased right ; Yea, bind them in His name upon thy breast,

As jewels for the Bride, the Lamb's delight.

And love shall teach us, while on Him we lean,

That, in the certainty of coming bliss, We may be yearning for a world unseen,

Yet wear our beautiful array in this.

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Ours be a loyal love for service tried,

To show by deeds and words, and looks that cheer, How He can bless the scene in which He died, And fill His house with glory even here.

Miss A. L. Waring.

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, mis looks that cheer

TREASURES.

I ET me count my treasures,

All my soul holds dear,
Given me by dark spirits

Whom I used to fear.

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TORD, Thou hast given me a cell,

L Wherein to dwell;
A little house, whose humble roof

Is weather proof;
Under the spars of which I lie

Both soft and dry,
Where Thou, my chamber for to ward,

Hast set a guard

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