For hearts, whose love to God is true, As flowers impearl'd with morning dew Their tenderest tints display. Give God thy waking thoughts, that He, Throughout the day, may keep Thy spirit company, and be Its guardian while asleep. Yet sleep not when the sun has risen, And holiest thoughts, set free from prison, There are appointed hours between To mar their blest design. The manna's heavenly charm was gone And flowers on which the sun has shone Then let not needless slumber glut Morn's glories by its sin; When this world's gates are closest shut, Walk out beneath the roseate skies, Eye, ear, and heart awake; List to the melodies that rise From tree, from bush, and brake. Each fluttering leaf, each murmuring spring The great I AM doth own; TO HIM the soaring sky-larks sing In music's sweetest tone. Can'st thou not sing? O! leave thy cares And follies; go thy way! And morning's praises, morning's prayers, Go with thee through the day! Serve God before the world below; Nor suffer, unimplored, That blessing from thy path to go, He only can afford. This done, to HIм resign thy will, Who never will forsake Those who, like Jacob, wrestle still, As day begins to break. Weep for thy sins, to Him apply But know that self and pride must die Mornings are emblems, shadowing forth, Unto the spirit's eye, Man's resurrection, and the birth Of hopes that cannot die. The glorious star which speaks them near, Like that of Bethlehem, Is life and light !-its rise more dear Than crown or diadem. But when the morning's prime is past, Keep well thy temper ;-mingle not With aught that thou shalt find, Which may its lingering brightness blot, Or chase it from thy mind. Despatch whatever must be done; Life hath a load to bear, Which may be borne; a path to run, Keep such without; and let thy heart Be still thy God's alone; And He, thy spirit's better part, THE LORD MY SHEPHERD. Davidson. GOD, who doth all nature hold In his fold, Is my Shepherd kind and heedful; Me, his sheep, Still supplied with all things needful. He feeds me in fields, which been Fresh and green, Mottled with spring's flowery painting; Through which creep, with murmuring crooks, Crystal brooks, To refresh my spirit fainting. When my soul from heaven's way Went astray, With earth's vanities seduced, For his name's sake kindly He, HUMILITY. Montgomery. THE bird that soars on highest wing And she that doth most sweetly sing, What honour hath humility. When Mary chose "the better part," She meekly sat at Jesus' feet; And Lydia's gently-open'd heart Was made for God's own temple meet; -Fairest and best-adorn'd is she, Whose clothing is humility. |