L

VI.-LONG DID I TOIL.

ONG did I toil, and knew no earthly rest,

Far did I rove, and find no certain home;
At last I sought them in His sheltering breast,
Who opes His arms and bids the weary come :
With Him I found a home, a rest Divine,
And I since them am His, and He is mine.

Yes, He is mine-and nought of earthly things
Nor all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or power,
The fame of heroes or the pomp of kings,

Could tempt me to forget His love one hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine: Go, I my Saviour's am, and He is mine.

The good I have is from His stores supplied,
The ill is only what He deems the best;
He for my friend I'm rich, with nought beside;
And poor without Him, though of all possest:
Changes may come; I take, or I resign;
Content while I am His and He is mine.

Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen;
A glorious sun that wanes not nor declines;
Above the clouds and storms He walks serene,
And sweetly on His people's darkness shines :
All may depart, I fret not nor repine
While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine.

He stays me falling, lifts me up when down,
Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe;
Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown;
Which in return before His feet I throw,
Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine
Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine.

While here, alas! I know but half His love,
But half discern Him, and but half adore;
But when I meet Him in the realms above,

I hope to love Him better, praise Him more,
And feel still, amid the choir divine,

How fully I am His and He is mine.

VII.-JESUS, I MY CROSS HAVE TAKEN.

[ESUS, I my cross have taken,

JES

All to leave and follow Thee;

Destitute, despised, forsaken,

Thou, from hence, my all shalt be. Perish every fond ambition,

All I've sought, or hoped, or known: Yet how rich is my condition!

God and Heaven are still mine own.

Let the world despise and leave me:

They have left my Saviour too; Human hearts and looks deceive me:-

Thou art not, like them, untrue. And, while Thou shalt smile upon me,

God of wisdom, love, and might,

Foes may hate, and friends may shun me:
Show Thy face, and all is bright.

Go then, earthly fame and treasure!
Come disaster, scorn, and pain!
In Thy service pain is pleasure,
With Thy favour, loss is gain!
I have called Thee, Abba Father!
I have stayed my heart on Thee,
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.

३

Man may trouble and distress me,
'Twill but drive me to Thy breast;
Life with trials hard may press me,
Heaven will bring me sweeter rest!
O! 'tis not in grief to harm me,

While Thy love is left to me!

O! 'twere not in joy to charm me,
Were that joy unmix'd with Thee.

Take, my soul, thy full salvation;
Rise o'er sin and fear and care;
Joy to find, in every station,
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee:
What a Father's smile is thine:

What a Saviour died to win thee:
Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine?

Haste then on from grace to glory,

Armed by faith and winged by prayer:
Heaven's eternal day's before thee:

God's own hand shall guide thee there.
Soon shall close thine earthly mission:
Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days:
Hope soon change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.

A

VIII.-ABIDE WITH ME.

1847.

BIDE with me! fast falls the eventide ;

The darkness deepens: Lord, with me abide

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, O abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day:
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;

O Thou, who changest not, abide with me!

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free,
Come not to sojourn, but abide with me!

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings,
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings;
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea:
Come, Friend of sinners, thus abide with me!

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile;
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee:
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me!

I need Thy presence every passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter's power
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me!

I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless:

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies:
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee.
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!

Robert Pollok.

1798-1827

ROBERT POLLOK, the author of "The Course of Time," was born at North Muirhouse, Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, on the 19th of October, 1798. He entered Glasgow University, and also studied for five years in the Divinity Hall of the United Secession Church at Glasgow with a view to the Presbyterian Ministry. While still a student, he wrote and published anonymously a series of "Tales of the Covenanters," which became popular and reached a second edition, in issuing which he acknowledged the authorship. He commenced the poem with which his name is indissolubly associated in the month of December 1824, and completed it in July 1826. It was published in March 1827, and became immediately popular. Two months after the issue of his poem, Pollok was licensed for the Ministry. He preached, however, but four times. Symptoms of a pulmonary disease, which rapidly developed, compelled rest during the following summer, and before its close he visited London, en route for Italy, but was too ill to pursue his intentions. Acting on advice he went to Shirley Common, near Southampton, to winter, but died there on the 18th of September, 1827.

"The Course of Time,'" said Professor Spalding, "much overlauded on its first appearance, is the