soul,displease thee once without so many? Doth the want of spiritual grace not trouble thee, and shall a temporal loss so much torment thee? Is thy husband taken away, and art thou cast down? Hath thy God promised to be thy husband, and art thou not comforted? True symptoms of more flesh than spirit; thy husband was the gift, thy God, the giver; and wilt thou more despise the Giver than the gift? Be wise, my soul, if thou hast lost a man, thou hast found a God; having, therefore, wet thy wings in nature's shower, go and dry them in the God of nature's sunshine.

Her Prayer.

"O GOD, in the knowledge of whom is the perfection of all joy, at whose right hand pleasures are evermore; that makest the comforts of this life momentary, that we may not overprize them, and yet hast made them requisite, that we may not undervalue them: I, a late sharer in this worldly happiness, but a sad witness of its vanity, do here address myself to thee,

the only crown of all my joys, in whom there is no variableness, nor shadow of change. Lord, thou didst give me what my unthankfulness hath taken from me, but thou hast taken from me, what thy goodness hath promised to supply: thou hast given, and thou hast taken, blessed be thy name for ever! Thou then, O God, who art not less able to perform, than willing to promise, whose mercy is more ready to bestow, than my misery is to begstrengthen my faith, that I may believe thy promise: encourage my hopes, that I may expect thy performance. Quicken my affections, that I may love the Promiser. Be thou all in all to me, that am nothing at all without thee. Sweeten my misery with the sense of thy mercy, and lighten my darkness with the sun of thy glory. Seal in my heart the assurance of adoption, that I may with boldness call thee my Father! Sanctify my actions with the spirit of meekness, that my conversation may testify, that I am thy child. Wean my heart from worldly sorrow, lest I mourn like them that have no hope, K k

VOL. 11.

Be thou my bridegroom, and let our marriage chamber be my heart. Own me as thy bride, and purify me with the odours of thy Spirit; prevent me with thy blessings; protect me by thy grace; preserve me for thyself; prepare me for thy kingdom! Be thou a father, to bless me; be thou a husband, to comfort me. In the midst of want, be thou my plenty; in the depth of my mourning, be thou my mirth. Raise my glory from the dust, and then my dust shall shew forth thy praise be thou a wall to support my vine, and let my branches twine about thee let them flourish in the sunshine of

:

thy grace, that they may bring forth fruit. to the glory of thy name."

THE HUMBLE MAN'S DEPRESSION.

"How more than happy are those sons of men, that measure no further ground than from the sacred font unto their peaceful grave! How blessed are those

infants, which never lived to taste those dear-bought penny-worths of deceitful earth! Alas, there is nothing here but bitter pills of pleasure-guilded grief: here is nothing but substantial sorrows, clothed in the shades of false delight look where I list, there is nothing can appear before mine eye but sorrow, the lamentable object of my misery. Contemplate where I list, here is nothing can present before my thoughts but misery, the object of my mourning. My soul is a sparkle of divine fire, but quenched with lust; an image of my glorious Creator, but blurred with sin; a parcel of mortal immortality reserved for death. My understanding is darkened with error; my judgment is perverted with partiality; my will is diverted with sensuality; my memory, like a sieve, retains the bran, and lets the flower pass my affections are aguish to good, and feverish to evil: my faith wavers; my hope tires; my charity freezes; my thoughts are vain; my words are idle; my actions sinful: my body is a

tabernacle of grief, an hospital of diseases, a tenement of death, a sepulchre of a sinful soul. O my soul, how canst thou own thyself without dejection, that canst not view thyself without corruption? How art thou enclosed in walls of dust, tempered with a few tears; a lump of earth, quickened with a span of life. Thy life is short and evil, truly miserable, because evil; only happy, because short: when thou endeavourest good, thy heart faints when thou strugglest with evil, thy strength fails. For this, my soul is humbled, and my spirits are, depressed: for this, I loath myself, and view sery with indignation.

my mi

"BUT cheer up, my soul, and let not thy thoughts be overprest. The ball that is thrown against the ground, rebounds. Humility is the harbinger of grace. Art thou humbled? fear not. Dost thou fear? despair not. Dost thou despair? persist not. Hark what the God of Truth hath said:

He that is humble shall be exalted. Luke

xiv. 11.