In life's long sickness, evermore
Our thoughts are tossing to and fro:
We change our posture o'er and o'er,
But cannot rest, nor cheat our wo.

Were it not better to lie still,

Let him strike home, and bless the rod?
Never so safe as when our will
Yields, undiscerned by all, to God.

THE LEPER.

And, behold, there came a leper and worshipped him, saying, Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean. - Matthew 8: 2.

OFT as the leper's case I read,

My own, described, I feel;

Sin is a leprosy, indeed,

Which none but Christ can heal.

Lord, thou canst heal me if thou wilt,
For thou canst all things do;

O, cleanse my leprous soul from guilt,
My filthy heart renew.

Come, lepers, seize the present hour,
The Saviour's grace to prove ;

He can relieve, for he is

He will, for he is love.

power,

THE SICK ROOM.

The Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth.-Psalm 145: 18.

WATCHING, through the silent hours,
By the unrefreshéd bed,
Where disease arrays his powers,
Whence repose is banished,
Where time halteth, sad and slow,
Thou art with me, Lord, I know.

When the vital forces seem
Dwindled to as faint a spark
As the taper's sickly gleam,

Making darkness doubly dark, -
Lord! I bless thee, that thou art
Near, to stay the sinking heart.

When the flame, reviving, burns
Gently, and, at sleep's soft touch,
Anguish yields, and hope returns,
Dove-like, to the smoothed couch, -
With an anxious, deep-drawn sigh,
Lord, I praise thee, ever nigh.

In the dim, religious gloom,

Where 'expressive silence' broods
O'er the closely-curtained room,
Nor a stirring breath intrudes,-

As in silent prayer I kneel,
Thou art present, Lord, I feel.

When reluctant hope is fled,
When the pulses beat no more,
And the last farewell is said,

And the war of life is o'er,
Lord, both the spirit and the dust
Of our beloved, to thee we trust.

DESPAIRING, YET PLEADING.

God be merciful to me, a sinner.

- Luke 18: 13.

WHY am I loth to leave this earthly scene?
Have I so found it full of pleasing charms?
Some drops of joy with draughts of ill between ;
Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms;
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms ?

Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms;
I tremble to approach an angry God,

And justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.

Fain would I say, 'Forgive my foul offence!'
Fain promise never more to disobey;
But, should my author health again dispense,
Again I might desert fair virtue's way;

Again in folly's path might go astray;

Again exalt the brute and sink the man:
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray,
Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan?
Who sin so oft have mourned, yet to temptation
ran?

O, thou, great Governor of all below!
If I may dare a lifted eye to thee,

Thy rod can make a tempest cease to blow,
Or still the tumult of the raging sea;
With that controlling power assist even me,
Those headlong, furious passions to confine;
For all unfit I feel my powers to be

To rule their torrent in th' allowéd line;
O, aid me with thy help, Omnipotence Divine!

CHASTISEMENT MISIMPROVED.

For God speaketh once, yea, twice, yet man perceiveth it not. — Job 33: 11.

How oft, upon my feverish bed,

By pain and darkness pressed,

I have rejoiced, with thankful heart,
That this was not my rest;

And that earth's troubles sure were given,

To fix our wayward hearts on heaven.

But when it pleased my God, who sent Those hours of wearing pain,

His rod in mercy to withdraw,

And give me health again;

My heart earth's trifles still would prize, And draw my wishes from the skies.

O, what a sinful heart is mine,
Ungrateful and unwise,

My Saviour's love thus to neglect,
His chastenings to despise,-

And please this weak, frail form of clay,
Made soon to fade and pass away.

I have no strength, I have no power,
One good resolve to keep;
Will the great Shepherd turn again
His wandering, faithless sheep;
And lead me from delusive toys,
To holy, high, and endless joys?

I dare not hope, but in his name,
Who came to seek the lost,
Jesus, O, guide me with thy rod

And staff, whate'er the cost; Though thou may'st bid me all resign, O, save me, Lord, and own me thine.