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This is indeed the boon,
Though strange to us it seems ;
We pierce the rock, and soon

The blessing on us streams;
For when we are the most athirst,
Then the clear waters on us burst.

We toil as in a field,
Wherein, to us unknown,
A treasure lies conceal'd,

Which may be all our own:
And shall we of the toil complain
That speedily will bring such gain ?

We dig the wells of life,
And God the waters gives;
We win our way by strife,

Then He within us lives;
And only war could make us meet

For peace so sacred and so sweet. 85

OD of my life, to thee I call,

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When the great water-floods prevail,
Leave not my trembling heart to fail.
Friend of the friendless and the faint,
Where should I lodge my deep complaint ?
Where but with Thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor.
Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner's plea ?
Does not the word still fix'd remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain ?

That were a grief I could not bear,
Didst thou not hear and answer prayer;
But a prayer-hearing, answering God,
Supports me under every load.
Fair is the lot that's cast for me!
I have an advocate with thee :
They whom the world caresses most
Have no such privilege to boast.
Poor though I am, despised, forgot,
Yet God, my God, forgets me not;
And he is safe and must succeed,
For whom the Lord vouchsafes to plead.


THOU Refuge of my weary soul,

On Thee, when sorrows rise,
On Thee, when waves of trouble roll,

My fainting hope relies.
To Thee I tell each rising grief,

For Thou alone canst heal;
Thy word can bring a sweet relief

For every pain I feel.
But O! when gloomy doubts prevail,

I fear to call Thee mine :
The springs of comfort seem to fail,

And all my hopes decline.
Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee?

Thou art mine only trust;
And still my soul would cleave to Thee,

Though prostrate in the dust.

Hast thou not bid me seek thy face?

And shall I seek in vain ?
And can the ear of sovereign grace

Be deaf when I complain ?
No! still the ear of sovereign grace

Attends the mourner's prayer.
O may I ever find access,

To breathe my sorrows there.
Thy mercy-seat is open still ;

There let my soul retreat;
With humble hope attend thy will,

And wait beneath thy feet. 87

THOU glorious Sovereign of the skies,

And wilt thou bow thy gracious ear? ? While feeble mortals raise their cries, Wilt thou, the great Jehovah, hear? How shall thy servants give thee rest, Till Zion's mouldering walls thou raise ; Till thine own power shall stand confess’d, And make Jerusalem a praise ? Look down, O God, with pitying eye, And view the desolation round, Where still wide realms in darkness lie; And hurl their idols to the ground. Loud let the gospel trumpet blow, Till every tribe of man shall hear : Let all the isles their Saviour know, And earth's remotest ends draw near.




UTHOR of good! to thee I turn :

Alone can all my wants discern,

Thy hand alone supply.
O let thy fear within me dwell,

Thy love my footsteps guide:
That love shall vainer love expel;

That fear all fear beside.
Alas! by error's force subdued,

Too oft with stubborn will
I blindly shun the latent good,

And grasp the specious ill!
Not to my wish, but to my want,

Do thou thy gifts apply; Unask'd, the good in mercy grant;

The ill, though ask'd, deny. 89

TE ask for

Why children ask thy peace;

Not what the world calls rest,
That toil and care should cease;
That through bright sunny hours
Calm life should fleet away,
And tranquil night should fade

In smiling day;--
It is not for such peace that we would pray.

We ask for peace, O Lord !
Yet not to stand secure,
Girt round with iron pride,
Contented to endure :
Crushing the gentle strings,


That human hearts should know,
Untouch'd by others' joys

Or others' woe;-
Thou, 0 dear Lord, wilt never teach us so.

We ask thy peace, O Lord !
Through storm, and fear, and strife,
To light and guide us on
Through a long struggling life:
While no success or gain
Shall cheer the desperate fight,
Or nerve, what the world calls,

Our wasted might;
Yet pressing through the darkness to the light.

It is thine own, O Lord,
Who toil while others sleep;
Who sow with loving care
What other hands shall reap :
They lean on thee entranced,
In calm and perfect rest :
Give us that peace, O Lord,

Divine and blest,
Thou keepest for those hearts who love thee best.


YAY not the law divine

Is hidden from thee, or afar removed;
That law within would shine,
If there its glorious light were sought and loved.

Soar not on high, Nor ask who thence shall bring it down to earth:

That vaulted sky Hath no such star, didst thou but knowits worth.

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