Good angels say, "Beware, and mark, and learn;"
And they would lead our spirits gently on;
But waywardly repulsing them, we turn,
And try, like tottering babes, to walk alone.

Alas! our guardian angels weep sad tears!
Lingering, they wait to welcome our return.
Grief-taught, and heaven-taught, in course of years
We learn the lessons love would have us learn.

To trust, submit, adoringly revere

Our holy God-man's highest duty this; Christ-like to sympathise with sorrow's tear And joy's rejoicing-this our highest bliss.

With wounded hearts and hands, meek children now, We think of home, and lovingly renew

The tie that bound us and the broken vow,

And own with shame how oft we proved untrue.

Is there forgiveness in our Father's home?
Are penitential tears regarded there?
Will Jesus ever say, "Thy lost ones, come

To seek Thy pardon and Thy home to share?"

Father, I know that Thy forgiving love

Hails with delight a contrite sinner's tear; And Thou wilt welcome to Thy home above A child to whom the Saviour's name is dear.

"MY TIMES ARE IN THY HAND."

FATHER, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me:

And the changes that will surely come
I would not fear to see!

But I ask Thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smile,
And wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart, at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathise.

I would not have the restless mind,
That hurries to and fro,

Searching for some great thing to do,

Or secret thing to know:

I would be as a weaned child,

And guided where to go.

Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate,

And a work of lowly love to do
For the Lord whom I await.

So I ask Thee for the daily strength,
To none who ask denied,

And a mind to blend with outward life,
While keeping by Thy side;
Content to fill a little space,

If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask,
In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to Thee,

And careful, less to serve Thee much, Than to please thee perfectly.

There are briars besetting every path, Which call for patient care;

There is a cross in every lot,

And an earnest need for prayer; But a lowly heart, that leans on Thee, Can be happy anywhere,