TRIALS A BLESSING.

Count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations. James 1: 2.

'Tis my happiness below,

Not to live without the cross,
But the Saviour's power to know,
Sanctifying every loss.

Trials must and will befall,

But with humble faith to see
Love inscribed upon them all,
This is happiness to me.

God in Israel sows the seeds
Of affliction, pain, and toil;
These spring up and choke the weeds,
Which would else o'erspread the soil.
Trials make the promise sweet,

Trials give new life to prayer,

Trials bring me to his feet,

Lay me low, and keep me there.

Did I meet no trials here,

No correction by the way,
Might I not, with reason, fear

I should prove a cast-away?
Worldlings may escape the rod,

Sunk in earthly, vain delight;
But the true-born child of God
Must not, would not, if he might.

'BE OF GOOD CHEER.'

Now no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but grievous; nevertheless, afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them which are exercised thereby. Wherefore lift up the hands which hang down. - Hebrews 12: 11, 12.

O, CHEER thee, cheer thee, suffering saint!
Though worn with chastening, be not faint!
And, though thy night of pain seem long,
Cling to thy Lord, -in him be strong;
He marks, he numbers every tear,
Not one faint sigh escapes his ear.

power,

O, cheer thee, cheer thee, now's the hour
To him to lift thine eye for
His all-sufficiency to show,
Now in extremity of woe;

While in the furnace to lie still, —

This is, indeed, to do his will.

Then cheer thee, cheer thee, though the flame
Consume thy wasting, suffering frame,

His gold shall suffer harm, nor loss,
He will but purge away the dross,
And fit it, graced with many a gem,
To form his glorious diadem.

And he will cheer thee, he will calm
Thy pain intense with heavenly balm,

Show thee the martyr's white-robed throng,
Thy place prepared, that host among;
That weight of glory will o'erpower
The anguish of life's suffering hour.

Yes, he will cheer thee;

-he will prove

The soul, encircled by his love,

Can meekly, 'midst her anguish, say,'Still will I trust him, though he slay;' And he will make his words thine own,

Father! thy will, not mine, be done.'

A PRAYER IN SICKNESS.

Truly my soul waiteth upon God; from him cometh my salvation.—
Psalm 62: 1.

O THOU, all holy, wise, and just,
Whom heaven and earth obey;

Thou only object of my trust,
Whose word can sink me into dust,
Or raise my feeble clay,-

If now the last decisive day

Of my frail life draw near,

My soul, while fainting with dismay,
From rising crimes in dread array,
Do thou with mercy cheer.

Or, if my past iniquity

My dying hour molest,

Yet, O then, save me when I die,
Nor to my parting soul deny

An entrance into rest.

But if thy boundless grace should spare

My fleeting life again,

Let sin no more my soul ensnare,
But love and warm devotion there
In blissful union reign.

MEDITATION.

Commune with your own heart upon your bed, and be still.-Psalm 4 : 4.

WHEN restless on my bed I lie,

Still courting sleep, which still will fly,
Then shall reflection's brighter power

Illume the lone and midnight hour.

If hushed the breeze and calm the tide,
Soft will the stream of memory glide;
And all the past, a gentle train,
Waked by remembrance, live again.

Perhaps that anxious friend I trace,
Beloved, till life's last throb shall cease,
Whose voice first taught a Saviour's worth,
And future bliss unknown on earth.

His faithful counsel, tender care,
Unwearied love, and humble prayer;
O, these still claim the grateful tear,
And all my drooping courage cheer.

If loud the wind, the tempest high,
And darkness wraps the sullen sky,
I muse on life's tempestuous sea,
And sigh, O Lord, to come to thee.

Tossed on the deep and swelling wave,
O, mark my trembling soul, and save;
Give to my view that haven near,
Where thou wilt chase each grief and fear.

CORRECTION NEEDED.

Wherefore doth a living man complain, a man for the punishment of his sins?- Lamentations 3: 39.

WISH not, dear friends, my pain away;
Wish me a wise and thankful heart,
With God, in all my griefs, to stay,
Nor from his loved correction start.

The dearest offering he can crave,
His portion in our souls to prove,
What is it to the gift he gave,
The only Son of his dear love?