S.M.

DODDRIDGE.

795 Whereas ye know not what shall be on the

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morrow.-Jas. iv. 14.

O-MORROW, Lord, is Thine,
Lodged in Thy sovereign hand;

And if its sun arise and shine,

It shines by Thy command.

2 The present moment flies,
And bears our life away :
O make Thy servants truly wise,
That they may live to-day.

3 Since on this winged hour
Eternity is hung,

Waken by Thine Almighty power
The aged and the young.

4 One thing demands our care;
O be it still pursued,

Lest, slighted once, the season fair

Should never be renewed.

5 To Jesus may we fly,

Swift as the morning light,

Lest life's young golden beams should die
In sudden, endless night.

ITS

VICISSITUDES.

84, 84, 84.

A. A. PROCTOR.*

796 1 form the light, and create darkness.

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Is. xlv. 7.

GOD, we thank Thee, who hast made
The earth so bright;

So full of splendour and of joy,

Beauty and light;

So many glorious things are here,

Noble and right.

2 We thank Thee, too, that Thou hast made
Joy to abound ;

So many gentle thoughts and deeds
Circling us round;

That in the darkest spot of earth
Some love is found.

3 We thank Thee more, that all our joy
Is touched with pain ;

That shadows fall on brightest hours,
That thorns remain;

So that earth's bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.

4 For Thou who knowest, Lord, how soon
Our weak heart clings,

Hast given us joys, tender and true,
Yet all with wings,

So that we see, gleaming on high,
Diviner things.

5 We thank Thee, Lord, that Thou hast kept The best in store;

We have enough, yet not too much
To long for more;

A yearning for a deeper peace

Not known before.

6 We thank Thee, Lord, that here our souls,
Though amply blest,

Can never find, although they seek,
A perfect rest-

Nor ever shall, until they lean
On Jesus' breast

C.M. Double.

W. H. BURLEIGH.

797 Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be

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comforted.-Matt. v. 4.

DEEM not that earth's crowning bliss
Is found in joy alone;

For sorrow, bitter though it be,
Hath blessings all its own;
From lips divine, like healing balm,
To hearts oppressed and torn,
This heavenly consolation fell-
Blessed are they that mourn!

2 As blossoms smitten by the rain,
Their sweetest odours yield,

3

As where the ploughshare deepest strikes,
Rich harvests crown the field;

So to the hopes by sorrow crushed,

A nobler faith succeeds;

And life, by trial furrowed, bears

The fruit of loving deeds.

Who never mourned, hath never known

What treasures grief reveals,

The sympathies that humanise,

The tenderness that heals,

The power to look within the veil,
And learn the heavenly lore,
The key-word to life's mysteries,

So dark to us before.

4 How rich, and sweet, and full of strength,
Our human spirits are,
Baptised into the sanctities

Of suffering and of prayer!
Supernal wisdom, love divine,

Breathed through the lips which said-
Oh, blessed are the souls that mourn,
They shall be comforted.

DE AT H.

L.M.

MRS BARBAULD *

798 Let me die the death of the righteous.

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H

Numb. xxiii. 10.

OW blest the righteous when he dies!
When sinks a weary soul to rest,
How mildly beam the closing eyes,
How gently heaves the expiring breast!

2 So fades a summer cloud away;
So sinks the gale when storms are o'er;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.

3 A holy quiet reigns around,

A calm which life nor death destroys ;
Nothing disturbs that peace profound,
Which his unfettered soul enjoys.

4 Farewell, conflicting hopes and fears,
Where lights and shades alternate dwell!
How bright the unchanging morn appears!
Farewell, inconstant world, farewell!

5 Life's labour done, as sinks the clay,
Light from its load the spirit flies;
While heaven and earth combine to say,
How blest the righteous when he dies!

799

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Our friend Lazarus sleepeth.-John xi. 11.

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T is not death to die,

To leave this weary road,

And, 'midst the brotherhood on high,
To be at home with God.

2 It is not death to close

The eye long dimmed by tears,
And wake in glorious repose

To spend eternal years.

3 It is not death to bear

The wrench that sets us free

From dungeon chains, to breathe the air
Of boundless liberty.

4 It is not death to fling
Aside this sinful dust,

And rise, on strong exulting wing,

To live among the just.

5 Jesus, Thou Prince of life!

Thy chosen cannot die ;

Like Thee, they conquer in the strife,
To reign with Thee on high.