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"Thou shalt see my glory soon,
When the work of grace is done;
Partner of my throne shalt be;
Say, poor sinner, lov'st thou Me?"

Lord, it is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love Thee, and adore!
O! for grace to love Thee more.

W. Cowper

CLXVII

SUBMISSION

O Lord! how happy should we be
If we could cast our care on Thee,

If we from self could rest;
And feel at heart that One above,
In perfect wisdom, perfect love,

Is working for the best.

How far from this our daily life!
Ever disturb'd by anxious strife,

By sudden wild alarms;
O could we but relinquish all
Our earthly props, and simply fall

On Thy almighty arms!

Could we but kneel and cast our load,
E'en while we pray, upon our God,

Then rise with lightened cheer,
Sure that the Father, who is nigh
To still the famish'd raven's cry,

Will hear, in that we fear.

We cannot trust Him as we should,
So chafes fall'n nature's restless mood

To cast its peace away;
Yet birds and flow'rets round us preach,
All, all the present evil teach

Sufficient for the day.

Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours Such lessons learn from birds and flowers,

Make them from self to cease; Leave all things to a Father's will, And taste, before Him lying still,

E'en in affliction peace.

Child's Christian Year

CLXVIII

THE STRANGER

Behold! a Stranger's at the door!
He gently knocks, has knock'd before,
Has waited long, is waiting still;
You treat no other friend so ill.

But will He prove a Friend indeed?
He will! the very Friend you need!
The Man of Nazareth, 'tis He,
With garments dyed at Calvary.

If thou art poor, (and poor thou art,)
Lo! He has riches to impart;
Not wealth, in which mean avarice rolls;
O better far! the wealth of souls!

Thou'rt blind; He'll take the scales away,
And let in everlasting day;
Naked Thou art; but He shall dress
Thy blushing soul in Righteousness.

Art thou a weeper? Grief shall fly;
For who can weep with Jesus by?
No terror shall thy hopes annoy;
No tear except the tear of joy.

Admit Him, for the human breast
Ne'er entertain'd so kind a guest:
Admit Him, for you can't expel;
Where'er He comes, He comes to dwell.

Admit Him, ere His anger burn;
His feet departed, ne'er return!
Ahmit Him, or the hour's at hand,
When at His door denied you'll stand.

7- Grigg

CLXIX

THE VOICE OF JESUS

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"Come unto Me and rest;
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down

Thy head upon my breast."
I came to Jesus as I was,

Weary, and worn, and sad,
I found in Him a resting-place,

And He has made me glad.

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I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"Behold! I freely give
The living water; thirsty one,

Stoop down, and drink, and live!"
I came to Jesus, and I drank

Of that life-giving stream; My thirst was quench'd, my soul revived,

And now I live in Him.

I heard the voice of Jesus say,

"I am this dark world's light; Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise,

And all thy day be bright."
I look"d to Jesus, and I found

In Him my star, my sun;
And in that light of life I'll walk

Till travelling days are done.

H. Bonar

CLXX

AFFLICTION

Within this leaf, to every eye
So little worth, doth hidden lie
Most rare and subtle fragrancy.

Wouldst thou its secret strength unbind?
Crush it, and thou shalt perfume find,
Sweet as Arabia's spicy wind.

In this stone, so poor and bare
Of shape and lustre, patient care
Will find for thee a jewel rare.

But first must skilful hands essay
With file and flint to clear away
The film which hides its fire from day.

This leaf? this stone? It is thy heart:
It must be crush'd by pain and smart,
It must be cleans'd by sorrow's art—

Ere it will yield a fragrance sweet,
Ere it will shine, a jewel meet
To lay before thy dear Lord's feet.

Bishop Wilberforce

CLXXI

THE HEARTS HOME

Hark! hark! my soul! angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat

shore, How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling, Of that new life, when sin shall be no more.

Darker than night life's shadows fall around us,
And like benighted men we miss our mark:
God hides Himself, and grace has scarcely found us,
Ere death finds out his victims in the dark.

Onward we go, for still we hear them singing,
"Come weary souls, for Jesus bids you come,"
And thro' the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing,
The music of the gospel leads us home.

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