The more the outward man decayeth, strengthen him, we beseech Thee, so much the more continually with Thy grace and holy Spirit in the inner man.

Bishop Febb.

THOU, whose all-enlivening ray

Can turn my darkness into day,
Disperse, great God, my mental gloom,
And with Thyself my soul illume.
Tho' gathering sorrows swell my breast,
Speak but the word--and peace and rest
Shall set my troubled spirit free,

In sweet communion, Lord, with Thee.
What tho' in this heart-searching hour,
Thou dim'st my intellectual power;
The gracious discipline I own,

And wisdom seek at Thy blest throne;
A wisdom not of earthly mould,

Not such as learned volumes hold,

Not selfish, arrogant, and vain,

That chills the heart and fires the brain :

But, Father of eternal light,

In fixt and changeless glory bright,
I seek the wisdom from above,
Pure, peaceful, gentle, fervent love.
Let love divine my bosom sway,
And then my darkness will be day;
No doubts, no fears, shall heave my breast,
For God Himself will be my rest.

The more the outward man decayeth, strengthen him, we beseech Thee, so much the more continually with Thy grace and holy Spirit in the inner man.

PAIN.

From "The Dove on the Cross."

ESUS, Saviour, sympathize

With Thy servant's agonies;

In Thy life-time Thou hast known
Racking pains that made Thee moan—
Pain of body, grief of mind,
Shame, and suffering, combined.

With Thy sanctifying hand
Touch me gently, and command
Some soft drops of dewy balm,
To be shed with potent charm;
Comfort was to Thee imparted,
Comfort Thou the broken-hearted.

Pain! what power within thee lies,
Mystery of mysteries;

That the Holy and the Just,
Even Christ our Saviour must,
Ere He gain full power to bless,
Taste thee in thy bitterness?

Not alone the token thou,
Of an angry Father's brow:

Rather of His willingness,
To renew, receive, and bless;
Welcome then be thou to me,
In thy sharpest agony.

Only in that solemn hour,
Let me feel, O God of power,
That Thy gentle hand alone,
Gives the pain that makes me moan;
High experience let me gain,

Fortitude in suffering pain.

Give him.. stedfast faith in Thy Son Jesus; that his sins may be done away by Thy mercy, and his pardon sealed in heaven, before he go hence,

WRITTEN AT THE HOLY SEPULCHRE.

SA

G. Sandys.

:

AVIOUR of Mankind, Man, Emmanuel! Who sinless died for sin; who vanquish'd hell: The first fruits of the grave: whose life did give Light to our darkness; in whose death we live :O strengthen Thou my faith, convert my will, That mine may Thine obey; protect me still, So that the latter death may not devour My soul, seal'd with Thy seal.-So, in that hour,

When Thou (whose body sanctified this tomb)
Unjustly judged,—a glorious Judge shall come
To judge the world with justice, by that sign
I may be known, and entertained for Thine.

If Thou wilt, Thou canst yet raise him up, and grant him a longer continuance amongst us:

THE BORDER-LANDS.

From "The Dove on the Cross."

ATHER, into Thy loving hands,
My feeble spirit I commit,

While wandering in these Border-Lands
Until Thy voice shall summon it.

Father, I would not dare to choose
A longer life, an earlier death;
I know not what my soul might lose
By shortened or protracted breath.

These Border-Lands are calm and still,
And solemn are their silent shades ;
And my heart welcomes them, until
The light of life's long evening fades.

I heard them spoken of with dread,
As fearful and unquiet places;
Shades, where the living and the dead
Look sadly in each other's faces.

But since Thy hand hath led me here,
And I have seen the Border-Land;
Seen the dark river flowing near,

Stood on its brink, as now I stand,

There has been nothing to alarm
My trembling soul; how could I fear
While thus encircled with Thine arm?
I never felt Thee half so near.

What should appal me in a place,
That brings me hourly nearer Thee?
When I may almost see Thy face—
Surely 'tis here my soul would be.

They say the waves are dark and deep, That faith has perished in the river; They speak of death with fear, and weep. Shall my soul perish? Never, never.

I know that Thou wilt never leave
The soul that trembles while it clings
To Thee: I know Thou wilt achieve
Its passage on Thine outspread wings.

And since I first was brought so near
The stream that flows to the Dead Sea,
I think that it has grown more clear
And shallow than it used to be.

U