Happy souls! their praises flow
Even in this vale of woe:

Waters in the desert rise,

Manna feeds them from the skies:
On they go from strength to strength,
Till they reach Thy throne at length,
At Thy feet adoring fall,

Who hast led them safe through all.

Lord, be mine this praise to win!
Guide me through a world of sin :
Keep me by Thy saving grace;
Give me at Thy side a place;
Sun and Shield alike Thou art;
Guide and guard my erring heart!
Grace and glory flow from Thee:
Shower, O shower them, Lord, on me!

HENRY F. LYTE

The Heart's Song.

IN

IN the silent midnight watches,
List-thy bosom-door!

How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh,

Knocketh evermore !

Say not 't is thy pulse's beating;

'Tis thy heart of sin— 'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth: Rise, and let me in!

Death comes down with reckless footstep
To the hall and hut,

Think you Death will stand a-knocking
Where the door is shut?

CHRIST'S CALL TO THE SOUL.

Jesus waiteth, waiteth, waiteth,
But thy door is fast!
Grieved, away the Saviour goeth:
Death breaks in at last.

Then 't is thine to stand entreating
Christ to let thee in :
At the gate of heaven beating,
Wailing for thy sin.

Nay, alas! thou foolish virgin,
Hast thou then forgot?
Jesus waited long to know thee,—
But he knows thee not!

ARTHUR C. COXE.

Christ's Call to the Soul.

FAIR soul, created in the primal hour,

Once pure and grand,

And for whose sake I left my throne and power
At God's right hand,

By this sad heart pierced through because I love thee,
Let love and mercy to contrition move thee!

Cast off the sins thy holy beauty veiling,
Spirit divine!

Vain against thee the host of hell assailing;
My strength is thine!

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Drink from my side the cup of life immortal,
And love will lead thee back to heaven's portal!

I for thy sake was pierced with many sorrows,
And bore the cross,

Yet heeded not the galling of the arrows,
The shame and loss;

So faint not thou, whate'er the burden be:
But bear it bravely ev'n to Calvary!

(Anonymous Translation.)

SAVONAROLA.

Consolation.

PILGRIM burdened with thy sin,

Come the way to Zion's gate,

There, till mercy lets thee in,

Knock, and weep, and watch, and wait.
Knock !-He knows the sinner's cry;

Weep! He loves the mourner's tears;
Watch!—for saving grace is nigh;

Wait-till heavenly light appears.

Hark! it is the Bridegroom's voice :
Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest
Now within the gate rejoice,

Safe, and sealed, and bought, and blest.
Safe-from all the lures of vice,

Sealed-by signs the chosen know,
Bought by love, and life the price,
Blest-the mighty debt to owe.

Holy pilgrim! what for thee

In a world like this remain?

From thy guarded breast shall flee

Fear, and shame, and doubt, and pain.
Fear the hope of heaven shall fly,

Shame-from glory's view retire,
Doubt-in certain rapture die,

Pain-in endless bliss expire.

CRABBE.

I

"LOOKED UPON PETER."

"Christ turned and looked upon Peter.”

THINK that look of Christ might seem to say—
Thou, Peter! art thou then a common stone,
Which I at last must break my heart upon,
For all God's charge to his high angels may
Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday
Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run
Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun n?
And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?
The cock crows coldly. Go, and manifest
A late contrition, but no brother's fear!
For when thy deadly need is bitterest,
Thou shall not be denied as I am here;
My voice, to God and angels, shall attest—
Because I knew this man let him be clear!"

ELIZABETH B. BROWNING.

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"Looked upon Peter."

WHA

HAT might it be that glance could paint?
Did one deep-touching impress blend
The more than sage-the more than saint—
The more than sympathizing friend?

Was it that lightning thought retraced

Some hallowed hour beneath the moon?
Or walk, or converse high, that graced
The temple's columned shade at noon?

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Say, did that face, to memory's eye,
With gleams of Tabor's glory shine?

Or did the dews of agony

Still rest upon that brow divine?

I know not;--but I know a will
That, Lord! might frail as Peter's be!
A heart that had denied thee still,

E'en now-without a look from thee!

SAMUEL M. WARING.

Prayer.

PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,

Uttered or unexpressed;

The motion of a hidden fire
That trembles in the breast.

Prayer is the burthen of a sigh,—
The falling of a tear,—
The upward glancing of an eye
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;

Prayer the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath—
The Christian's native air,

His watchword at the gates of death,
He enters Heaven with prayer.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice
Returning from his ways,
While angels on their wings rejoice,
And cry," Behold, he prays!"

The saints in prayer appear as one
In word, and deed, and mind,
When with the Father, Spirit, Son,
Sweet fellowship they find.