ADVANTAGES OF AFFLICTION.
HILE over life's wide darkling plain
Unheeding as we roam,
Through many a path of joy and pain,
God leads his children home.
And though sometimes in prospect viewed,
The winding way seems dark and rude;
Ah! who the backward scene hath scanned,
But blessed the Father's guiding hand.
ORD! when dejected I appear,
And love is half absorbed in fear,
E'en then I know I'm not forgot, -
Thou'rt present, though I see thee not;
Thy boundless mercy's still the same,
Though I am cold, nor feel the flame;
Though dull and hard my sluggish sense;
Faith still maintains its evidence.
O would thy cheering beams so shine,
That I might always feel thee mine!
-Yet though a cloud may sometimes rise,
And dim the brightness of the skies,
By faith thy goodness I will bless;
I shall be safe, though comfortless.
Still, still my grateful heart shall melt,
At what in brighter days I felt.
O wayward heart! thine is the blame,
Though I may change, God is the same.
Not feebler faith, nor colder prayer,
My state and sentence shall declare.
Nor nerves nor feelings shall decide;
By safer signs I shall be tried.
Is the fixed tenor of my mind
To Christ and righteousness inclined?
For sin is my contrition deep?
For past offences, do I weep?
Do I submit my stubborn will
To him who guides and guards me still?
Then shall my peaceful bosom prove
That God, not loving is, but Love.
"He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds."Ps. cxlvii. 3.
THOU who driest the mourner's tear,
How dark this world would be,
If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to thee!
The friends who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes, are flown;
And he who has but tears to give,
Must weep those tears alone;
But thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.
When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And even the hope that threw
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears
Is dimmed and vanished too!
Oh! who would bear life's stormy doom,
Did not thy wings of love
Come brightly wafting through the gloom,
One peace-branch from above?
Then sorrow, touched by thee, grows bright
With more than rapture's ray;
As darkness shows us worlds of light
We never saw by day.
"For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin."-HEB. iv. 13.
HEN gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few;
On Him I lean, who, not in vain,
Experienced every human pain;
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.
If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way,
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do,
Still He, who felt temptation's power,
Will guard me in that dangerous hour.
If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe--
At once, betrayed, denied, or fled
By those who shared his daily bread.
When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;
Yet He, who once vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.
When mourning o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend,
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;
Thou Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed,
For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.
And oh! when I have safely past
Through every conflict but the last;
Still, still, unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed-for thou hast died:
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.
HE Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain:
His blood-red banner streams afar!
Who follows in his train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe.
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in his train!
The martyr first, whose eagle eye,
Could pierce beyond the grave;
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on Him to save.
Like Him with pardon on his tongue
In 'midst of mortal pain,
He prayed for them that did him wrong!
Who follows in his train?
A glorious band, the chosen few
On whom the Spirit came;
Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And mocked the cross and flame.
They met the tyrant's brandished steel,
The lion's gory mane:
They bowed their necks, the death to feel!
Who follows in his train?
A noble army-men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice,
In robes of light arrayed.
They climbed the steep ascent of heaven,
Through peril, toil, and pain!
O God! to us may grace be given
To follow in their train!
ND wilt Thou hear the fevered heart
To thee in silence cry?
And as the inconstant wildfires dart
Out of the restless eye,
Wilt thou forgive the wayward thought,
By kindly woes but half untaught
A Saviour's right, so dearly bought,
That Hope should never die?
Thou wilt: for many a languid prayer
Has reached thee from the wild,
Since the lorn mother, wandering there,
Cast down her fainting child,
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