a

Lead back the wanderer to the Saviour's fold;
That were an action worthy of a saint;
But not in' malice let the crime be told,
Nor publish to the world the evil taint.
The Saviour suffers when his children slide;
Then in his holy name by men blasphemed,
And he afresh is mock'd and crucified
Even by those his bitter death redeem'd.
Rebuke the sin, but yet in love rebuke,
Feel as one member in another's pain;
Wean back the soul that his fair path forsook,
And mighty and eternal is the gain.

222

CHAT grace, O Lord, and beauty shone

Around thy steps below; What patient love was seen in all

Thy life and death of woe!
For ever on thy burden'd heart

A weight of sorrow hung;
Yet no ungentle murmuring word

Escaped thy silent tongue.
Thy foes might hate, despise, revile,

Thy friends unfaithful prove;
Unwearied in forgiveness still,

Thy heart could only love.
Oh! give us hearts to love like thee,

Like thee, O Lord, to grieve
Far more for others' sins, than all

The wrongs that we receive.

One with thyself, may every eye

In us, thy brethren, see
That gentleness and grace that spring

From union, Lord, with thee. 223

THY should this earth delight us so ?

Why should we fix our eyes
On these low grounds where sorrows grow,

And every pleasure dies ?
While Time his sharpest scythe prepares

Our comforts to destroy,
There is a land above the stars,

A world of endless joy.
Nature shall be dissolved and die,

The sun must end his race,
The earth and sea for ever fly
Before

my

Saviour's face.
When will that glorious morning rise ?

When the last trumpet sound,
And call the nations to the skies,

From underneath the ground ? 224

(HEN I can read my title clear

so mansions in the skies,
I bid farewell to every fear,

And wipe my weeping eyes.
Should earth against my soul engage,

And hellish darts be hurid,
Then I can smile at Satan's rage,

And face a frowning world.

W

Let cares like a wild deluge come,

And storms of sorrow fall;
May I but safely reach my home,

My God, my heaven, my all!
There shall I bathe my weary soul

In seas of heavenly rest,
And not a wave of trouble roll

Across my peaceful breast. 225

THAT sinners value I resign:

art mine;

a

I shall behold thy blissful face,
And stand complete in righteousness.
This life's a dream, an empty show;
But the bright world to which I go
Hath joys substantial and sincere :
When shall I wake and find me there?
O glorious hour! O blest abode!
I shall be near and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more control
The sacred pleasures of my soul.
My flesh shall slnmber in the ground
Till the last trumpet's joyful sound;
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,

And in my Saviour's image rise. 226

E’VE no abiding city here,”
This may distress the worldling's

mind;
But should not cost the saint a tear,
Who hopes a better rest to find.

WE

“We've no abiding city here," Sad truth, were this to be our home; But let the thought our spirits cheer, “ We seek a city yet to come.” We've no abiding city here," Then let us live as pilgrims do; Let not the world our rest appear, But let us haste from all below. “We've no abiding city here,” We seek a city out of sight, Zion its name, the Lord is there, It shines with everlasting light. “We've no abiding city here,” Methinks I hear the worldling say, “Your hope is vain, ye fools, forbear, For pleasure lies another way.” No wonder men should reason thus, And count our expectations vain; But did they know the truth like us, They would adopt another strain. Did they, like us, by faith discern The glorious city of our God, They too, like us, would quickly learn To walk in Zion's heav'nly road. Zion! Jehovah is her strength! Secure she smiles at all her foes; And weary travellers at length Within her sacred walls repose. O sweet abode of peace and love, Where pilgrims freed from toil are blest ! Had I the pinions of the dove, I'd fly to thee, and be at rest.

R

But hush, my soul, nor dare repine !
The time my God appoints is best :
While here, to do his will be mine,

And his to fix my time of rest. 227

HO is as the Christian great ?

W blood;

Crowns he sees beneath his feet,

Soars aloft and walks with God. Who is as the Christian wise ?

He for gold his dross hath given, Bought the Pearl of greatest price,

Nobly barter'd earth for heaven. Who is as the Christian blest?

Praises well his lips employ; His the calm within the breast,

Earnest of his promised joy. Lo, he feeds on living bread,

Drinks the fountain from above, Leans on Jesu's breast his head,

Feasts for ever on his love. Angels here his servants are,

Spread for him their golden wings, To his throne of glory bear,

Seat him by the King of kings.

228
O hand

Thy people still are fed ;
Who through this weary pilgrimage
Hast all our fathers led

: