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I know the things that come into your mind, every one of them,Ezek, xi, 5.

Thou, even Thou only, knowest the hearts of all the children of men, i Kings viji. 39.

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* * * Yet not farewell our hope, since Thou hast

deigned, Creator of all hearts! to own, and share The woe of what Thou mad'st, and we have stain'd. Thou know’st our bitterness, our joys are Thinem No stranger Thou to all our wanderings wild: Nor could we bear to think how every line Of us, Thy darken'd likeness and defil'd, Stands in full sunshine of Thy piercing eye, But that Thou call'st us brethren: sweet repose Is in that word,—the Lord who dwells on high Knows all, yet loves us better than He knows.


His eye, which comprehending in one view
The whole creation, fixes full on me;
As on me shines the sun with his full blaze,
While o'er the hemisphere he spreads the same,-
His hand, while holding oceans in its palm,
And compassing the skies, surrounds my life-
Guards the poor rushlight from the blast of death.


One glance of Thine eternal Lord
Pierces all nature through:
Nor heaven, nor earth, nor hell afford
A shelter from Thy view.

The mighty whole,-each smaller part,
At once before Thee lies,

And every thought of every heart
Is open to Thine eyes.

Tho' greatly from myself conceald,
Thou seest my inward frame ;
To Thee I always stand reveal’d,
Exactly as I am.


Dread Omnipresent! who dost dwell
Through height and depth, from heaven to hell,
Earth’s gayest scene, most lonely part,
The sage's and the sinner's heart:

Each erring wish, each useless care,
Each sinful thought Thou readest there!
Too well Thou knowest the “ thing of nought,” *
O pardon each vain glorious thought!

To Thee in conscious weakness flies,
The guilt which may not shun Thine eyes,
The sin with which we strive in vain,
Until Thy Spirit breaks the chain.


Guard well thy thought : our thoughts are heard in heaven.



THERE is none that doeth good, no, not one.-Psalm xiv. 3.
The soul that sinneth, it shall die.--EZEK. xviii. 14.

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How dreadful is the sinner's fate,

Who wakes to sleep no more,
Who knocks and calls, alas, too late,

When death hath shut the door!

But we who now Thy grace implore

Shall now admitted be,
For if Thy justice shut the door,
Thy mercy keeps the key.


Oh! say-what plea availing proves

To cancel guilt immense as mine?
Oh! say—what plea Jehovah moves

To shew a pity so divine ?
'Tis blood of highest worth His own-
All sprinkled round the burning throne.

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