Sweet whispered the breeze, but it whispered of woe, And bitterness flowed in the soft-flowing stream.

So, cured of my folly, but cured but in part,
I turned to the refuge thy pity displayed;
But still did this eager and credulous heart

Weave visions of joy that bloomed but to fade.

I thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven Would be bright as the sun, and glad as the morn; Thou show'dst me the path, - it was dark and uneven, All rugged with rock and all tangled with thorn.

I dreamed of celestial rewards and renown,

I grasped at the triumph which blesses the brave; I asked for the palm-branch, the robe, and the crown, I asked, and thou show'dst me a cross and a grave.

Subdued and instructed, at length, to thy will

My hopes and my longings I fain would resign; O, give me the heart that can wait and be still, Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but thine!

There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe,
But they stand in a region by mortals untrod.
There are rivers of joy, but they roll not below;

There is rest, but it dwells in the presence of God.

THE BORDER-LAND.

"For the Lord thy God bringeth thee into a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills." — Deut. viii. 7.

I HAVE been to a land, a Border-land,

Where there was but a strange, dim light,
Where shadows and dreams in a spectral band
Seemed real to the aching sight.

I scarce bethought me how there I came,
Or if thence I should pass again ;

Its morning and light were marked by the flight
Or coming of woe and pain.

But I saw from this land, this Border-land,
With mountain ridges hoar,

2

That they looked across to a wondrous strand,
A bright and unearthly shore.

Then I turned me to Him, "the Crucified,"

In most humble faith and prayer,

Who had ransomed with blood my

sinful soul,

For I thought he would call me there.

Yet nay; for a while in the Border-land

He bade me in patience stay,

And gather rich fruits with a trembling hand,
Whilst he cheered its glooms away.

He has led me amid those shadows dim

And shown that bright world so near,
To teach me that earnest trust in Him
Is the one thing needful here.

NOT UNCLOTHED, BUT CLOTHED UPON.

"For we that are in this tabernacle do groan, being burdened; not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life."-2 Cor. v. 4.

IN health, O Lord, and prosperous days,
When worldly wealth, or worldly praise,
When worldly thoughts have filled our heart,
We would not from the body part;
And then the very thought is loathed,
That we must be by death unclothed.

In sickness, sorrow, or in shame,

We fain would quit this mortal frame;
But thus to shrink from toil and pain,-
This is not longing for thy reign;

Brought low, we only seek to be

Unclothed,

not clothed upon by thee.

O, rather help us as we ought
To feel what thine apostle taught, -
That not for aye we seek to wear
This form of clay, corruption's heir;
Nor yet, impatient, ask alone

To be unclothed, but clothed upon.

O blessed Lord! whose merits dress
Thy saints in robes of righteousness;

Through whom, for us, eternal stands
That heavenly house, not made with hands,—
When this frail dwelling sets us free,
Quench thou, in life, mortality.

FRIENDSHIP WITH CHRIST.

"Nevertheless, I am continually with thee; thou hast holden me by my right hand." Ps. lxxiii. 23.

WHEN, in the hours of lonely woe,
I give my sorrows leave to flow,
And anxious fear and dark distrust
Weigh down my spirit to the dust;
When not e'en friendship's gentle aid

Can heal the wounds the world has made;
O, this shall check each rising sigh,
Thou, Saviour, art for ever nigh.

Jesus! in whom, but thee above,
Can I repose my trust, my love?
And shall an earthly object be
Loved, in comparison with thee ?
Thy counsels and upholding care
My safety and my comfort are;

Thou, Lord, shalt guide me all my days,
Till glory crown the work of grace.

My flesh is hastening to decay,—
Soon shall the world have passed away, -

And what can mortal friends avail,

When heart and strength and flesh shall fail!

But, O, be thou, my Saviour, nigh,

And I will triumph while I die;

My strength, my portion, is divine,

And Jesus is for ever mine!

CHRIST'S CARE.

"Master, carest thou not that we perish?"- Mark iv. 38.

SUCH was the disciples' cry,

When the crested waves beat high,
And the heavens above were dark,

O'er the tempest-driven bark.

But thou didst not, though upbraided,
Leave thy followers then unaided;
* Prompt to succor, swift to save,
Thou rebukedst wind and wave.

At the word which spoke thy will,
Every stormy wind was still;