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PSALM.

[From Wasse's Devotions.]

COME, let us praise the goodness of God, who orders every thing for the best; our life and our death are equally His care.

The Lord casts us down upon the bed of sickness, and draws the curtain between the world and us.

Shutting out all its vain designs; and contracting our business to a little chamber. In that quiet solitude He speaks to our hearts,—and sets our whole life, as in a mirror, before us.

There He discovers to us the treachery of the world, and invites us by the exhibition of its vanity, to prepare for a better. Thither He sends His messengers of peace, to perfect our reconciliation.

O! how different are the thoughts of that hour from those of careless, unreflecting health!

How do we now censure what we once esteemed!

How easily are we led to wiser resolutions!

When our unruly senses are rebuked with pains, and the fears of death teach the rashness of our minds sobriety;

When the occasions of sin are removed from our way, and every thing about us exhorts to repentance;

Adored be Thy name, O Lord! whose mercy sanctifies into a blessing even the chastisement of Thy rod.

Thou bringest us low, to awaken our humility, and prescribest sickness to cure our infirmity.

Thou commandest, and the grave is inexorable; with it is no respect of persons.

Thou tellest us by experience that all must die: but kindly hidest in clouds and darkness the time and place.

That everywhere we may be upon our guard, and, through all our days, may be looking for the summons.

Thou teachest us by the removal of those whom we love, to renew the contemplation of our own grave, and the wholesome thoughts of a future world.

Let not, O Lord! these gracious designs be lost upon us; but let such scenes be attended with the most serious reflections upon our own mortality.

And O! cause every meditation of this nature to make us the more diligent in preparing for our latter end.

PSALM.

[By Mrs. Barbauld.]

LIFT up thyself, O mourning soul! lift up thyself, raise thine eyes that are wet with tears! Why are thine eyes wet with tears? Why are they bent continually upon the earth? And why dost thou go mourning as one forsaken of thy God?

O, thou that toilest ever, and restest not; thou that wishest ever, and art not

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