Yet he leaves me,-cruel fate!
Leaves me in my lost estate !
Have I sinn'd? Oh say wherein ?
Tell me, and forgive my sin!
King and Lord, whom I adore,
Shall I see thy face no more?

Be not angry; I resign,
Henceforth, all my will to thine:
I consent that thou depart,
Though thine absence breaks
Go then, and for ever too;
All is right that thou wilt do.

my

heart;

This was just what Love intended,
He was now no more offended;
Soon as I became a child,

Love return'd to me and smiled:
Never strife shall more betide
'Twixt the Bridegroom and his Bride.

A CHILD OF GOD

LONGING TO SEE HIM BELOVED.

THERE'S not an echo round me,
But I am glad should learn
How pure a fire has found me,

The love with which I burn.
For none attends with pleasure

To what I would reveal;
They slight me out of measure,
And laugh at all I feel.

The rocks receive less proudly
The story of my flame;
When I approach, they loudly
Reverberate his name.
I speak to them of sadness,
And comforts at a stand;
They bid me look for gladness,
And better days at hand.
Far from all habitation,

I heard a happy sound,
Big with the consolation,

That I have often found; I said, "My lot is sorrow,

My grief has no alloy;" The rocks replied-" To-morrow, To-morrow brings thee joy."

These sweet and secret tidings,
What bliss it is to hear!
For, spite of all my chidings,

My weakness and my fear,
No sooner I receive them,

Than I forget my pain, And happy to believe them, I love as much again.

I fly to scenes romantic,

Where never men resort; For in an age so frantic Impiety is sport;

For riot and confusion

They barter things above, Condemning, as delusion, The joy of perfect love.

In this sequester'd corner,
None hears what I express;
Deliver'd from the scorner,

What peace do I possess !
Beneath the boughs reclining,
Or roving o'er the wild,
I live as undesigning,

And harmless as a child.

No troubles here surprise me;
I innocently play,
While Providence supplies me,
And guards me all the day:
My dear and kind defender

Preserves me safely here,
From men of pomp and splendour,
Who fill a child with fear.

ASPIRATIONS OF THE SOUL AFTER GOD.

My Spouse in whose presence I live,
Sole object of all my desires,

Who know'st what a flame I conceive,
And canst easily double its fires;
How pleasant is all that I meet!

From fear of adversity free,
I find even sorrow made sweet;
Because 'tis assign'd me by Thee.

Transported I see thee display

Thy riches and glory divine;
I have only my life to repay,
Take what I would gladly resign.

Thy will is the treasure I seek,
For thou art as faithful as strong;
There let me obedient and meek,
Repose myself all the day long.

My spirit and faculties fail;

Oh finish what love has begun! Destroy what is sinful and frail,

And dwell in the soul thou hast won! Dear theme of my wonder and praise, I cry, who is worthy as Thou! I can only be silent and gaze: 'Tis all that is left to me now.

Oh glory in which I am lost,

Too deep for the plummet of thought; On an ocean of Deity toss'd,

I am swallow'd, I sink into nought. Yet lost and absorb'd as I seem,

I chant to the praise of my king; And, though overwhelm'd by the theme, Am happy whenever I sing.

GRATITUDE AND LOVE TO GOD.

ALL are indebted much to thee,
But I far more than all,

From many a deadly snare set free,
And raised from many a fall.
Overwhelm me, from above,
Daily, with thy boundless love!

What bonds of gratitude I feel
No language can declare;
Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,
"Tis more than I can bear:
When shall I that blessing prove,
To return thee Love for Love?

Spirit of Charity, dispense

Thy grace to every heart; Expel all other spirits thence,

Drive self from every part;
Charity divine, draw nigh,
Break the chains in which we lie!

All selfish souls, whate'er they feign, Have still a slavish lot;

They boast of liberty in vain,
Of Love, and feel it not.
He whose bosom glows with Thee,
He, and he alone, is free.

Oh blessedness, all bliss above,
When thy pure fires prevail !
Love only teaches what is Love;
All other lessons fail:

We learn its name, but not its powers, Experience only makes it ours.

S. C.-9.

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