A Saint! Oh give me but some sign,
Some seal to prove the title mine,

And warmer thanks thou shalt command,
Than bringing kingdoms in thine hand.

Oh for an interest in that name,
When hell shall ope its jaws of flame,
And scorners to their doom be hurl'd,
While scorned saints "shall judge the world!"

How shall the name of saints be prized,
Though now neglected and despised,
When truth shall witness to the word,

That none but saints "shall see the Lord!

وو

Marriott.

66 MY SOUL IS EVEN AS A WEANED CHILD."

ESUS, cast a look on me ;

Give me sweet simplicity;

Make me poor and keep me low,

Seeking only Thee to know.

Weaned from my lordly self;

Weaned from the miser's pelf;

Weaned from the scorner's ways,
Weaned from the lust of praise.

All that feeds my busy pride,
Cast it evermore aside;

Bid my will to Thine submit ;
Lay me humbly at Thy feet.

Make me like a little child;

Of my strength and wisdom spoil'd;
Seeing only in Thy light;

Walking only in Thy might.

Leaning on Thy loving breast,

Where a weary soul may rest;
Feeling well the peace of God,
Flowing from Thy precious blood!

In this posture let me live,
And Hosannas daily give;
In this temper let me die,
And Hosannas ever cry!

Berridge.

THE PRINCE OF PEACE."

HEN Jordan hush'd his waters still, And silence slept on Sion hill; When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night

Watch'd o'er their flocks by starry light:

Hark! from the midnight hills around,
A voice of more than mortal sound
In distant Hallelujahs stole,

Wild murmuring o'er the raptured soul.

Then swift to every startled eye,
New streams of glory light the sky ;
Heaven burst her azure gates to pour
Her spirits to the midnight hour!

On wheels of light, on wings of flame,
The glorious hosts of Sion came;

High heaven with songs of triumph rang;

While thus they struck their harps and sang,

Oh, Sion! lift thy raptured eye,

The long-expected hour is nigh;

The joys of nature rise again,

The Prince of Salem comes to reign!

See, Mercy from her golden urn

Pours a rich stream to them that mourn;

Behold, she binds, with tender care,
The bleeding bosom of despair!

He comes! to cheer the trembling heart;
Bids Satan and his host depart;

Again the Day-star gilds the gloom,
Again the bowers of Eden bloom!

Oh, Sion! lift thy raptured eye,'
The long-expected hour is nigh;
The joys of nature rise again,

The Prince of Salem comes to reign."

Campbell.

66 CLOUDS AND DARKNESS ARE ROUND ABOUT

HIM."

AIT, O my soul, thy Maker's will;
Tumultuous passions, all be still!
Nor let a murmuring thought arise;

His ways are just, His counsels wise.

He in the thickest darkness dwells;
Performs His work,-the cause conceals,
But though His methods are unknown,
Judgment and truth support His throne.

Wait, then, my soul, submissive wait,
Prostrate before His awful seat:

And 'midst the terrors of His rod,

Trust in a wise and gracious God.

Beddome.

WHO ART THOU, THAT REPLIEST AGAINST GOD?"

mine

SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld
The face of immortality unveil'd-

Deep sleep came down on every eye save

And there it stood-all formless, but divine:
Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake;
And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it spake,-

"Is man more just than God? is man more pure
Than He who deems even Seraphs insecure?
Creatures of clay-vain dwellers in the dust!
The moth survives you, and are ye more just?
Things of a day! you wither ere the night,
Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!"

Byron.