And as the glorious sun, from dark clouds breaking,
Dispels the sorrowing dew-drops of the night;
So in our hearts, Thy presence, Lord, awaking,
Chases our fears, and turns our gloom to light.

Hallowed Thy presence, Lord! before Thee kneeling,
Pure thoughts and holy transports fill the soul;

Thy peace within our troubled spirits stealing,
Far off life's storms and ocean-billows roll.

Heavenly Thy presence, Lord! while here before Thee
In faith we see the mansions of the just,
Enraptured join the angelic host to adore Thee,
And make Thee all our joy, our hope, our trust.

And let Thy blessed presence, Lord! attend us,
While struggling in the world with sin and care!
O, may Thy everlasting shield defend us!

May all our hearts be Thine, our thoughts be prayer!

SUNDAY EVENING.

And he shewed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. - Revelation xxii. 1.

WHAT a glorious vision to comfort and encourage us in this lower world!

Here the water of life often runs in small and hardly perceptible streams, with difficulty making its way along through all the roughnesses and hindrances of this vale of our pilgrimage, sometimes almost lost amid quicksands and marshes. There it majestically rolls on its full tide in a river, overshadowed on either side by trees bearing their fresh, luxuriant fruit every month, and whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.

Here the stream of our life is often so tainted with many noxious things, that we can hardly recognize it as having proceeded from the all holy Fountain; and as we look on these small, polluted streams, exhaling unwholesome vapors, we wonder if they can do any good to beast or even to herb; and it seems impossible to us that they should ever be purified. But the angel shows us the water of life pure. How great a change must there be made in those

other waters! How glorious a change will be made when all the waters of life shall be gathered into that large river!

The waters of life are here often very turbid; we cannot see clearly through them; we are not sure whether it is our vision which is imperfect, beclouded with mists of self-love, of evil passions,— or whether the water itself has so mixed with the clay of the valley that it cannot be separated from it. Let us patiently endure its dulness for the short time we are here, for there it will be clear as crystal, reflecting with dazzling lustre all the glorious objects in the heavenly city through which it flows.

Whence is this blessed river of the water of life? The angel shows it to us proceeding "out of the throne of God and of the Lamb." Therefore is it so large, so pure, so clear. Nothing that is limited can proceed from infinity; nothing that is impure can come forth from perfect purity; nothing that is dark can emanate from the Fountain of light. We see here but in part; we understand but in part. When the perfect is come, this partial seeing, this partial knowing, will be done away; that which is now only the vision of faith will be a glorious reality.

I bless Thee, O my God, that thou dost sometimes give me these visions to help me through the vale. When I descend from the holy mount where

they have shone around me, to continue my pilgrimage below, grant that their light may still be about me; and that I may go rejoicing on the way Thou hast pointed out for me!

DESCEND my spirit! Rest in humble peace

Where His kind hand hath placed thee, who best knows
Thy mortal frame, remembering thou art dust.
There faith shall whisper thee sweet words of trust,
That if thou steadfast pressest on the way
Of thy high calling; thy affections rise
To things above, nor centre here below;
If, while thou minglest with the cares of life,
Thou doest all to gain thy Father's love;
If, living in the world, mixing with men,
Thou treadest not in their unholy ways;

Then shalt thou share a joy which human heart
Cannot conceive; then an immortal crown

Shall circle brows which here would dazzled shrink
From its pure brightness. As poor blighted flowers,
Or as the winter rose that scarce unfolds
Its sickly leaves to catch the mid-day sun,
Our feeble spirits sink before the blast,
Nor dare to imbibe the strong meridian rays;
But there the mortal seeds, in weakness sown,
Shall rise in power and glory, heirs with Christ,
Glorious partakers with the sons of God!

MONDAY MORNING.

Pray without ceasing.-1 Thess. v. 17.

WHAT is prayer? Have we thought that the use of certain forms is necessary to it? Have we deemed it requisite, in order to pray, that we should either join with others, or retire into some secret place to open our hearts to God? Have we supposed that prayer could be performed only at fixed seasons, or when the heart is in a peculiar state of excitement? All these circumstances may be, and often are, highly favorable to devotion. But if we think them necessary, our views of the duty are too narrow. Prayer is far less the use of certain language, than the exercise of certain dispositions and affections; and the great design of the expression of prayer is, to strengthen the dispositions and affections in which it peculiarly consists. The design of forms of prayer is, to secure us against inconsistency and impropriety, either in the sentiments or the expressions of devotion. The purpose of social worship is, peculiarly, to unite our social with our pious affections; and, by the same act, to