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I know the Lord is nigh,
And would, but cannot pray,
For Satan meets me when I try,
And frights my soul away.

I would, but can't repent,
Though I endeavour oft;
This stony heart can ne'er relent
Till Jesus make it soft.

I would, but cannot love,
Though wooed by love divine:
No arguments have power to move
A soul so base as mine.

I would, but cannot rest

In God's most holy will;

I know what he appoints is best,

Yet murmur at it still.

0 could I but believe! Then all would easy be;

1 would, but cannot—Lord, relieve; My help must come from thee I

But if indeed I would,
Though I can nothing do;
Yet the desire is something good,
For which my praise is due.

By nature prone to HI,
Till thine appointed hour,
I was as destitute of will,
As now I am of power.

Wilt thou not crown at length
The work thou bast begun?
And with a will afford mo strength
In all thy ways to run.

PROVIDENCE.

God moves in a mysterious way,
His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.

Newton. Deep in unfathomable mines

Of never-failing skill,
He treasures up his bright designs,

And works his sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take,

The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy, and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning Providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err,

And scan his work in vain; God is his own interpreter,

And he will make it plain.

Cowper. LOVEST THOU ME?

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Hark, my soul, it is the Lord;
Tis thy Saviour, hear his word;
Jesus speaks, and speaks to thee:
'Say, poor sinner, lovest thou me?

'I delivered thee when bound,
And, when bleeding, healed thy wound;
Sought thee wandering; set thee right;
Turned thy darkness into light.

'Can a woman's tender care
Cease towards the child she bare?
Yes, she may forgetful be,
Yet will I remember thee.

'Mine is an unchanging love,
Higher than the heights above;
Deeper than the depths beneath,
Free and faithful, strong as death.
'Thou shalt see my glory soon,
When the work of grace is done;
Partner of my throne shall be,
Say, poor sinner, West thou me Y

Lord, it is my chief complaint,
That my love is weak and faint;
Yet I love thee and adore,
Oh for grace to love thee more I

Cotoper.

THE BETTER LAND.

'I hear thee speak of the better land, Thou call'st its children a happy band; Mother! 0 where is that radiant shore ?— Shall we not seek it, and weep no more ?— Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies dance through the myrtle boughs?" 'Not there, not there, my child!'

'Is it where the feathery palm trees rise,
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ?—
Or 'midst the green islands on glittering seas,
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze,

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