177.

Thy bounty shall my pains beguile;

The barren wilderness shall smile,

With sudden greens and herbage crowned,
And streams shall murmur all around.

JOSEPH ADDISON.

THE DIVINE WILL.

THOU, who hast at thy command
The hearts of all men in thy hand!

Our wayward, erring hearts incline
To have no other will but thine.

Our wishes, our desires, control;
Mould every purpose of the soul;
O'er all may we victorious be

That stands between ourselves and thee.

Thrice blest will all our blessings be,

When we can look through them to thee;
When each glad heart its tribute pays

Of love, and gratitude, and praise.

And while we to thy glory live,
May we to thee all glory give,
Until the final summons come,
That calls thy willing servants home.

L. M.

MRS. M. J. COTTERILL.

178.

YE TREMBLING SAINTS.

YOUR harps, ye trembling saints,

Down from the willows take;

Loud to the praise of love divine

Bid every string awake.

Though in a foreign land,

We are not far from home;
And nearer to our house above
We every moment come.

His grace will to the end

Stronger and brighter shine;

Nor present things, nor things to come,
Shall quench the spark divine.

Fastened within the vail,

Hope be your anchor strong;
His loving Spirit the sweet gale
That wafts you smooth along.

Or should the surges rise,
And peace delay to come,
Blest is the sorrow, kind the storm,
That drives us nearer home.

When we in darkness walk,
Nor feel the heavenly flame,
Then is the time to trust our God,
And rest upon his name.

S. M.

179.

Soon shall our doubts and fears

Subside at his control;

His loving-kindness shall break through

The midnight of the soul.

Still on his plighted love
At all events rely;

The very hidings of his face

Shall train thee up to joy.

AUGUSTUS M. TOPLADY.

WHERE IS REST?

OH, where shall rest be found, —

Rest for the weary soul?

'Twere vain the ocean depths to sound,

Or pierce to either pole.

The world can never give
The bliss for which we sigh;

'Tis not the whole of life to live,
Nor all of death to die.

Beyond this vale of tears,
There is a life above,

Unmeasured by the flight of years;

And all that life is love.

Here would we end our quest:

Alone are found in thee

The life of perfect love,

Of immortality.

S. M.

the rest

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

180.

TRUST IN GOD.

H, happy they who know the Lord,
With whom he deigns to dwell;
He feeds and cheers them by his word,
His arm supports them well.

He helped his saints in ancient days
Who trusted in his name;

And we can witness, to his praise,
His love is still the same.

His presence sweetens all our cares,
And makes our burdens light;
A word from him dispels our fears,
And gilds the gloom of night.

Lord, we expect to suffer here,
Nor would we dare repine;
But give us still to find thee near,
And own us still for thine.

Let us enjoy and highly prize
The tokens of thy love,

Till thou shalt bid our spirits rise,

To worship thee above.

C. M.

JOHN NEWTON.

181.

COME

RECONCILIATION.

‘OME, O ye sinners, to the Lord,
In Christ to paradise restored;

His proffered benefits embrace, -
The plenitude of gospel grace;

The guiltless shame, the sweet distress,
Th' unutterable tenderness;

The genuine, meek humility;

The wonder, why such love to me;

The o'erwhelming power of saving grace,
The sight that veils the seraph's face;
The speechless awe that dares not move,
And all the silent heaven of love.

L. M.

CHARLES Wesley.