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What then am I, my God,

Permitted thus the paths of peace to tread?
Peace, purchased by the blood

Of Him who had not where to lay His head!

I, who once made Him grieve,

I, who once bade His gentle spirit mourn;
Whose hand essayed to weave

For His meek brow the cruel crown of thorn :

O why should I have peace?

Why? but for that unchanged, undying love,
Which would not, could not cease,
Until it made me heir of joys above.

Yes, but for pardoning grace,
I feel I never should in glory see
The brightness of that face,

That once was pale and agonized for me.

Let the birds seek their nest,

Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed;
Come, Saviour, in my breast

Deign to repose Thine oft rejected head!

On earth Thou lovest best

To dwell in humble souls that mourn for sin;
O come and take Thy rest,

This broken, bleeding, contrite heart within.

J. S. Monsell.

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The Righteous Advocate.

ATHER, I bring this worthless child to Thee,
To claim Thy pardon. Once, yet once again,
Receive him at my hand, for he is mine.

He is a worthless child; he owns his fault;
Look not on him, he will not bear the glance;
Look but on me, I'll hide his filthy garments.
He pleads not for himself, he dares not plead;
His cause is mine, I am his Intercessor.
By that unchanged, unchanging love of Thine,
By each pure drop of blood I shed for him,
By all the sorrows graven on my soul,
By every wound I bear, I claim it true.
Father Divine! I would not have him lost;
He is a worthless child, but he is mine!
Sin hath destroyed him—sin hath died in me;
Satan hath bound him-Satan is my slave;
Death hath desired him—I have conquered death.
My Father, hear him now, not him, but me;
I would not have him lost for all the worlds
Which Thou hast long created for my glory,
Because he is a poor, a worthless child,
And all his every hope on me it lies.
I know my children, and I know him mine.
By all the sighs he pours o'er outcast Israel,
By all the prayers he breathes o'er Judah's sins,
I know him by the sign my children bear,
That trusting love by which he cleaves to me.

I could not bear to see him cast away,
Vile as he is! the weakest of my flock,

The one that grieves me most and loves me least.
Yes! tho' his sins dim every spark of love,

I measure not my love by his returns,

And though the stripes I send to bring him home
Should seem to drive him further from my arms,
Still he is mine! I lured him from the world;
He has no right, no home, but in my love.
Tho' earth and hell combined against him rise
I'm bound to rescue him, for we are one.

Oh, sinner! what an Advocate is thine;
Methinks I see Him lead the captive in,
Poor, sorrowful, ashamed, trembling with fear,
Shrinking behind his Lord, accused, condemned,
Well pleased to hide the form himself abhors
With that all-spotless garment of his Friend.
But look! some secret impulse lifts his eye,
To see if love be mingled now with wrath,
If mercy beams upon the Father's face.
Poor sinner! read thy welcome in that smile,
And hear the Father's word to Him for thee,
"Take Thy poor worthless child! I have forgiven."

E. Birrell.

"As many as touched were made perfectly whole."

AVIOUR divine, we bend before Thee lowly,
Sadly we bring into Thy presence holy

Our hearts, so sin-oppressed;

Touching the border of Thy garment pure,
Whose touch all sorrow and all sin can cure,
We ask Thee for Thy rest.

And in so stooping, higher shall we reach,
Than e'en the highest point our hearts can teach,
Even dear Lord to Thee,

Whose lowliness hath raised us to such height,
That we may dare to touch Thy garment white,
Of matchless purity.

Thy gentleness, O Christ, hath made us great,
Thy uncrown'd majesty our lost estate

Redeemed by bitter woe;

And though our trembling fingers feebly hold,
Yea, scarcely touch Thy holy garment's fold,
Thou wilt not let us go.

Thy love, the source of ours, shall still abide,
Shall draw us, wandering, closer to Thy side,
And make us wholly pure;

Led ever higher by its light divine,

Wrapped in its heavenly beauty shall we shine,
In love and rest secure.

F. L.


"Create in me a clean heart."

H for a heart to praise my God,

A heart from sin set free;

A heart that's sprinkled with the blood
So freely shed for me!

A heart resigned, submissive, meek,
My dear Redeemer's throne:
Where only Christ is heard to speak,
Where Jesus reigns alone!

A lowly and believing heart,

Abhorring every sin;

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Which neither life nor death can part,
From Him that dwells within.

A heart in every thought renewed,
And filled with love divine;

Perfect, and right, and pure, and good;
A copy, Lord, of Thine.

Thy nature, gracious Lord, impart,

Come quickly from above:

Write Thy new name upon my heart,

Thy new, best name of LovE.


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