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“ WITH GROANINGS THAT CANNOT BE UTTERED.”

PLEAD Thou-oh plead my cause !
Each self-excusing plea
My trembling soul withdraws,

And flies to Thee.
Where Justice rears her throne,
Ah! who, save thee alone,
May stand, O spotless One ?-

Plead thou my cause !

Ah! plead not aught of mine,
Before thine altar thrown:
Fragments—when all is thine-

All—all thine own!
Thou seest what stains they bear :
Oh ! since each tear, each prayer,
Hath need of pardon there,

Plead thou my cause!

With lips that, dying, breathed
Blessings for words of scorn ;
With brow where I had wreathed

The piercing thorn ;
With breast to whose pure tide
He did the weapon guide,
Who hath no home beside,

Plead Thou my cause!

Plead—when the tempter's art,
To each fond hope of mine,
Denies this faithless heart

Can e'er be thine.
If slander whisper, too,
The sin I never knew,
Thou, who could urge the true,

Plead Thou my cause !

Oh! plead my cause above:
Plead Thine withiu my breast,
Till there Thy peaceful Dove

Shall build her nest.
Thou know'st this will—how frail :
Thou know’stthough language fail-
My soul's mysterious tale :-

Plead Thou my cause !

“ OF THINE OWN HAVE WE GIVEN THEE !”

How sweet shall be the incense of my prayer !

Since He who bids me, gives the power to pray, I may draw near, and bring those spices rare,

That spring not forth from my unfertile clay.

Source of all perfect gifts !-ah! who shall lay Aught at thy feet, save that by thee bestowed ?

Thine is the softening dew, the quickening ray; And thine the right to reap where thou hast strewed.

Forerunner to the purchased abode !

Oh shed thou then upon meme'en on me,
Thy light to find, thy strength to tread the road,

To where the pure in heart shall dwell with thee.
Take all thine own :-inspire, enkindle, raise,
My thoughts, my tongue, my life, to thy immortal praise !

AND SHE ANSWERED, IT IS WELL!”

O YE, who, with the silent tear
And saddened step, assemble here,
To bear these cold, these loved remains,
Where dark and cheerless silence reigns ;
Your sorrows hush, your griefs dispel,
The Saviour lives, -and “all is well !”

Those eyes, indeed, are rayless now;
And pale that cheek, and chill that brow;
Yet, could that lifeless form declare
The joys its soul is called to share,
How would those lips rejoice to tell,
• The Saviour lives—" and all is well !” )

“ MY DAYS ARE LIKE A SHADOW THAT DECLINETH."

Child of the dust! if e'er thine eye

Has watch'd the torrent's flow,
Where, distant from its source on high,

It sweeps the vale below,
Then hast thou seen a silent force

Pervade its current strong ;
No sound, no ripple, marks its course,

And yet it speeds along.

'Tis noiseless thus, yet swift as thought

The stream of time rolls by ;
And thus, though man regards them not,

His precious moments fly.
A few brief days, in splendour bright,

Yon glorious orb has shone ;
Add next a few returns of night,

And, lo! a year is gone.

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