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 watch-word at the gates of death;
He enters Heaven by prayer.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And say,-"Behold he prays!"

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

Nor Prayer is made on earth alone:
The Holy Spirit pleads;

And Jesus, on the eternal throne,
For sinners intercedes.

O Thou, by whom we come to God,
The Life, the Truth, the Way,
The path of Prayer thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray!

MONTGOMERY.

THE TIME FOR PRAYER.

HEN is the time for prayer?

With the first beams that light the morning's sky, Ere for the toils of day thou dost prepare,

Lift up thy thoughts on high;

Commend the loved ones to his watchful care:
Morn is the time for prayer!

And in the noontide hour,

If worn by toil, or by sad cares oppressed,
Then unto God thy spirit's sorrow pour,
And he will give thee rest :-

Thy voice shall reach him through the fields of air:
Noon is the time for prayer!

When the bright sun hath set,

Whilst yet eve's glowing colours deck the skies ;-
When with the loved, at home, again thou's met,
Then let the prayer arise

For those who in thy joys and sorrow share:
Eve is the time for prayer!

And when the stars come forth,—

When to the trusting heart sweet hopes are given ;
And the deep stillness of the hour gives birth
To pure, bright dreams of heaven,—

Kneel to thy God-ask strength, life's ills to bear :
Night is the time for prayer!

When is the time for prayer?

In every hour, while life is spared to thee—
In crowds or solitudes-in joy or care-

Thy thoughts should heavenward flee.

At home-at morn and eve-with loved ones there, Bend thou the knee in prayer!

G. BENNETT.

THE POET'S PRAYER.

GOD! it is an awful thing indeed

For one who estimates our nature well, Be what it may his outward sect or creed To name thee, thou Incomprehensible !

Had'st thou not chosen of thyself to tell,

As in thy Gospel thou hast done; nor less, By condescending in our hearts to dwell;

Could man have ever found to thee access, Or worshipped thee aright in spiritual holiness.

No! for the utmost that we could have done,
Were to have raised, as Paul at Athens saw,
Altars unto the dread and unknown One,

Bending before we know not what with awe;
And even now, incrusted by a law

Holier than that of Moses, what know we
Of thee, the Highest? Yet you bid'st us draw
Near thee in spirit: Oh, then pardon me,
If in this closing strain, I crave a boon of thee.

It shall be this: Permit me not to place

My soul's affections upon the things of earth, But conscious of the treasures of thy grace,

To let them, in my inmost heart, give birth To gratitude proportioned to their worth;

Teach me to feel that all that thou hast made Upon this mighty globe's gigantic girth,

Though meant with filial love to be surveyed, Is nothing to thyself;-the shadow of a shade.

If thou hast given me, more than unto some,
A feeling sense of Nature's beauties fair,
Which sometimes renders admiration dumb,
From consciousness that words cannot declare
The beauty thou hast scattered everywhere;

Oh, grant that this may lead me still, through all Thy works, to thee! nor prove a treacherous snare Adapted those affections to enthral

Which should be thine alone, and waken at thy call.

I would not merely dream my life away
In fancied rapture, or imagined joy;

Nor that a perfumed flower, a dew-gemmed spray,
A murmuring brook, or any prouder toy,
Should, for its own sake, thought or song employ;
So far alone as nature's charms can lead
To Thee who framed them all, and can destroy,
Or innocent enjoyment serve to feed,

Grant me to gaze and love, and thus thy works to read.

But while from one extreme thy power may keep
My erring frailty, oh, preserve me still
From dulness! nor let cold indifference steep
My senses in oblivion: if the thrill

Of early bliss must sober, as it will,

And should, when earthly things to heavenly yield, I would have feelings left, time cannot chill;

That while I yet can walk through grove or field, I may be conscious there of charms by Thee revealed.

And when I shall, as soon or late I must,
Become infirm; in age, if I grow old;

Or, sooner, if my strength should fail its trust
When I relinquish haunts where I have strolled
At morn or eve, and can no more behold

Thy glorious works; forbid me to repine;

Let memory still their loveliness unfold

Before my mortal eye, and let them shine

With borrowed light from Thee, for they are Thine!

MONTGOMERY.

THE FLIGHT OF FAITH.

HE dove let loose in eastern skies,

Returning fondly home,

Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies

Where idle warblers roam.

But high she shoots through air and light,
Above all low delay,

When nothing earthly bounds her flight,
Nor shadow dims her way.

So grant me, Lord, from every stain
Of sinful passion free,

Aloft, through faith and love's pure air,
To steer my course to thee.

No sin to tempt, no lure to stay
My soul, as home she springs;
Thy sunshine on her joyful way,
Thy freedom on her wings.

MOORE.

ADVANTAGES OF AFFLICTION.

EHOLD this vine!

I found it a wild tree, whose wanton strength

Had swollen into irregular twigs

And bold excrescences,

And spent itself in leaves and little rings;

So in the flourish of its outwardness,

Wasting the sap and strength

That should have given forth fruit.

But when I pruned the plant,

Then it grew temperate in its vain expense

Of useless leaves, and knotted, as thou seest

Into these full, clear clusters, to repay

The hand that wisely wounded it.

Repine not, O my son!

In wisdom and in mercy Heaven inflicts
Its painful remedies.

SOUTHEY.