These, guarded by thine outstretch'd arm, Look down on those who widely stray Weary Thy hand, alone, can guide them home. THE BELIEVER'S LIFE AND LIGHT. "For with thee is the fountain of life in thy light shall we see light."- Psalm, xxxvi. 9. THERE is a life, more dear. Than that which by our outward breath we live ; There is a light more clear And glorious than the noon-day sun can give. Deep, deep the heart within, In its first breathings, stirrings, knows it not. In the awaken'd mind This light first dawns, a faint and glimm'ring ray; But, to its glory blind, Man from its gentle radiance turns away. Thou only, Lord! canst give The light wherein, alone, THY light we see; An inward life still hid with Christ in Thee. That so each gift and grace Bestow'd by Thee its Giver may recall; And each believer trace In Thee the Fount of Life, of Light, of All. F THE REWARD OF PATIENT WAITING. "I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry."- Psalm, xl. 1. SUCH was the language us'd of yore, And they who patiently adore, And wait, thy goodness yet shall sing. Thou didst not hear unmov'd of old Such waiting suppliant's plaintive cry, Thy boundless mercy still is near To those who would that mercy crave; Undimm'd thine eye, unseal'd thine ear, Thine arm omnipotent to save. But, weaken'd by our sins, and cares, Nor can we of ourselves obtain The faith which keeps impatience dumb, Which waits, though waiting seem in vain, Believing that thy time will come. Thy grace, which must the will prepare ENCOURAGEMENT. “He shall drink of the brook in the way; therefore shall he lift up the head."- Psalm, cx. 7. GREAT need had He who trod for us And they who for themselves, alone, Would seek to shun thy righteous wrath, Now need each comfort thou mak'st known To cheer their tribulated path. And blessed be Thy name, and power, Thou giv'st them, in thy boundless love, Their hopes to cheer, their souls to stay, Times of refreshment from above, And brooks of comfort by the way. But these, if such we hope to share, Gourds we may plant, alas! are vain, The Rock of Ages yet must throw When drank-shall lift in hope the head. |