If now thou wilt his soul require,
O, sit as a refiner's fire,

And purge it first from sin;

Thy love hath quicker wings than Death,
The fulness of thy Spirit breathe,
And bring thy nature in.

If in the vale of tears thy will
Appoints him to continue still,
O, sanctify his pain;

And let him patiently submit
To suffer as thy love sees fit,
And never once complain.

O,'let him look to thee alone,
That all thy will on him be done;
His only pleasure be,

Alike resigned to live or die,

As most thy name may glorify,
To live or die to thee.

THE LORD KNOWS WHAT IS BEST.

For who knoweth what is good for man in this life? - Eccles. 6: 12. WHAT, many times I musing asked, is man, If grief and care

Keep far from him? he knows not what he can, What cannot bear.

He, till the fire hath purged him, doth remain
Mixed all with dross:

To lack the loving discipline of pain,
Were endless loss.

Yet when my Lord did ask me on what side
I were content

The grief, whereby I must be purified,
To me were sent,

As each imagined anguish did appear,
Each withering bliss

Before my soul, I cried, ' O! spare me here,
O no, not this!'

Like one that having need of, deep within,
The surgeon's knife,

Would hardly bear that it should graze the skin,
Though for his life.

Nay then but he, who best doth understand,
Both what we need,

And what can bear, did take my case in hand,
Nor crying heed.

THE SCHOOL OF SUFFERING.

In the day when I cried thou answeredst me, and strengthenedst me with strength in my soul. - Psalm 138: 3.

SAVIOUR! beneath thy yoke,

My wayward heart doth pine;
All unaccustomed to the stroke
Of love divine:

Thy chastisements, my God, are hard to bear,
Thy cross is heavy for frail flesh to wear.

Perishing child of clay!

Thy sighing I have heard;

Long have I marked thy evil way,

How thou hast erred:

Yet fear not-by my own most holy name
I will shed healing through thy sin-sick frame.'

Praise to thee, gracious Lord!

I fain would be at rest;
O, now fulfil thy faithful word,

And make me blest:

My soul would lay her heavy burden down,
And take with joyfulness the promised crown.

Stay, thou short-sighted child!

There is much first to do;

Thy heart, so long by sin defiled,
I must renew:

Thy will must here be taught to bend to mine,
Or the sweet peace of Heaven' can ne'er be thine.'

Yea, Lord, but thou canst soon

Perfect thy work in me,

Till, like the pure, calm summer moon,

A moment shine, that all thy power may trace, Then pass in stillness to my heavenly place.

'Ah! coward soul, confess

Thou shrinkest from my cure,

Thou tremblest at the sharp distress
Thou must endure:

The foes on every hand, for war arrayed,
The thorny path in tribulation laid.

The process slow of years,
The discipline of life,-

Of outward woes and secret tears,

Sickness and strife,

The idols taken from thee one by one,
Till thou canst dare to live with me alone.

'Some gentle souls there are

Who yield unto my love,

Who, ripening fast beneath my care,
I soon remove:

But thou stiff-neckéd art, and hard to rule,
Thou must stay longer in affliction's school.'

My Maker and my King!

Is this thy love to me?

O, that I had the lightning's wing,
From earth to flee,

How can I bear the heavy weight of woes,
Thine indignat on on thy creature throws?

Thou can'st not, O my child,
So hear my voice again -
I will bear all thy anguish wild,

Thy grief- thy pain:

My arms shall be around thee day by day,

My smile shall cheer thee on thy heavenward way.

In sickness, I will be

Watching beside thy bed;

In sorrow, thou shalt lean on me

Thy aching head:

In every struggle thou shalt conqueror prove,
Nor death itself shall sever from my love.'

O grace beyond compare!

O love most high and pure!
Saviour begin, no longer spare
I can endure :

Only vouchsafe thy grace, that I may live
Unto thy glory, who canst so forgive.