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Long have I marked thy evil way,
How thou hast erred:

Yet fear not,

by my own most holy name

I will shed healing through thy sin-sick frame."

Praise to thee, gracious Lord!
I fain would be at rest;
O, now fulfil thy faithful word,

And make me blest!

My soul would lay her heavy burden down,
And take with joyfulness the promised crown.

"Stay, thou short-sighted child!
There is much first to do;

Thy heart, so long by sin defiled,

I must renew:

Thy will must here be taught to bend to mine,
Or the sweet peace of heaven can ne'er be thine."

Yea, Lord, but thou canst soon

Perfect thy work in me,

Till, like the pure, calm summer moon,

I shine by thee,

A moment shine, that all thy power may trace,
Then pass in stillness to my heavenly place.

"Ah! coward soul, confess

Thou shrinkest from my cure,

Thou tremblest at the sharp distress
Thou must endure ;

The foes on every hand, for war arrayed,
The thorny path in tribulation laid; -

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The discipline of life,

Of outward woes and secret tears,

Sickness and strife,

The idols taken from thee one by one, Till thou canst dare to live with me alone.

"Some gentle souls there are

Who yield unto my love,

Who, ripening fast beneath my care,

I soon remove :

But thou stiff-neckèd art, and hard to rule, Thou must stay longer in affliction's school."

My Maker and my King!

Is this thy love to me?

O that I had the lightning's wing,

From earth to flee!

How can I bear the heavy weight of woes, Thine indignation on thy creature throws?

"Thou canst not, O my child!

So hear my voice again;
I will bear all thy anguish wild,
Thy grief, thy pain:

My arms shall be around thee day by day,
My smile shall cheer thee on thy heavenward way.

"In sickness, I will be

Watching beside thy bed;

In sorrow, thou shalt lean on me

Thy aching head:

In every struggle thou shalt conqueror prove,

Nor death itself shall sever from my

O grace beyond compare!

O love most high and pure!
Saviour begin, no longer spare,
I can endure:

love."

--

Only vouchsafe thy grace, that I may live
Unto thy glory, who canst so forgive.

MYSTERY OF CHASTISEMENT.

"We glory also in tribulations.". Rom. v. 3.

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

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

In this dull stone, so poor, and bare
Of shape or 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 crushed by pain and smart,
It must be cleansed 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.

---

S. WILBERFORCE.

THE REFINER'S FIRE.

"He shall sit as a refiner and purifier of silver."— Mal. iii. 3.

HE that from dross would win the ore
Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye,
The subtile, searching process to explore,
Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by,
When in the molten, silvery, virgin mass,
He meets his pictured face as in a glass.

Thus in God's furnace are his people tried;
Thrice happy they who to the end endure;
But who the fiery trial may abide ?

Who from the crucible come forth so pure,

That He, whose eyes of flame look through the whole, May see his image perfect in the soul?

Nor with an evanescent glimpse alone,

As in that mirror the refiner's face;

But, stamped with Heaven's broad signet, there be shown Immanuel's features full of truth and grace;

And round that seal of love this motto be,

"Not for a moment, but― Eternity!"

MONTGOMERY.

GOD KNOWETH WHAT IS BEST.

"For who knoweth what is good for man in this life?"- Eccl. vi. 12.

WHAT, many times I musing asked, is man,
If grief and care

Keep far from him? he knows not what he can,
What cannot, bear.

He, till the fire hath purged him, doth remain
Mixed all with dross :

To lack the loving discipline of pain,

Were endless loss.

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