1 Ir shall be well, let sinners know,
With those who love the Lord;
His saints have always found it so,
When resting on his word.

2 Peace, then, ye chastened sons of God,
Why let your sorrows swell?
Wisdom directs your Father's rod,
His word says, It is well.

3 Though you may trials sharp endure, From sin or death or hell;

Your heavenly Father's love is sure,
And therefore, It is well.

4 Soon will your sorrows all be o'er,
And you shall sweetly tell,

On Canaan's calm and pleasant shore,
That all at last is well.

Strength equal to the Day.

1 AFFLICTED saint, to Christ draw near, Thy Saviour's gracious promise hear; His faithful word declares to thee,

That" as thy day, thy strength shall be."

2 Thy faith is weak, thy foes are strong; And if the conflict should be long,

Thy Lord will make the tempter flee;
For "as thy day, thy strength shall be."

3 Should persecution rage and flame,
Still trust in thy Redeemer's name :
In fiery trials thou shalt see,

That "as thy day, thy strength shall be.”

4 When called by him to bear the cross, Reproach, affliction, pain, or loss,

Or deep distress, and poverty;

Still "as thy day, thy strength shall be.”

5 When death at length appears in view,
Christ's presence shall thy fears subdue:
He comes to set thy spirit free;
And "as thy day, thy strength shall be."

Looking to God in Trouble.

1 DEAR Refuge of my weary soul,
On thee, when sorrows rise,

On thee, when waves of trouble roll,
My fainting hope relies.

2 To thee I tell each rising grief,
For thou alone canst heal;

Thy word can bring a sweet relief,
For every pain I feel.

3 But O! when gloomy doubts prevail, I fear to call thee mine;

The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline.

4 Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee? Thou art my only trust;

And still my soul would cleave to thee,
Though prostrate in the dust.

Hast thou not bid me seek thy face?
And shall I seek in vain ?

And can the ear of sovereign grace
Be deaf when I complain?

6 No, still the ear of sovereign grace Attends the mourner's prayer:

O! may I ever find access,

To breathe my sorrows there.

7 Thy mercy-seat is open still,
Here let my soul retreat:

With humble hope attend thy will,
And wait beneath thy feet.

20

C. M.

Light in Darkness.

10 THOU who driest the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,
If, pierced by sins and sorrows here,
We could not fly to thee!

2 The friends, who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;
And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone.

3 But thou wilt heal that broken heart, Which, like the plants that throw Their fragrance from the wounded part, Breathes sweetness out of woe.

4 When joy no longer soothes or cheers, And e'en the hope that threw

A moment's sparkle o'er our tears,
Is dimmed and vanished too: