Through this day Thy hand has led me, Let my sins be all forgiven, Bless the friends I love so well; Take me, when I die, to heaven, Happy there with Thee to dwell. JERUSALEM MY HAPPY HOME.-C. M. "The holy city, New Jerusalem." Rev. xxi. 2. Jerusalem, my happy home! Name ever dear to me! When shall my labors have an end, When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls And pearly gates behold, Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, And streets of shining gold? There happier bowers than Eden's bloom, Nor sin, nor sorrow know. Blessed seats! through rude and stormy scenes I onward press to you. Why should I shrink from pain and woe, Or feel at death dismay? I've Canaan's goodly land in view, And realms of endless day. Apostles, martyrs, prophets there, Jerusalem, my happy home! JUST AS I AM.-P. M. "Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.John vi. 37. Just as I am-without one plea, Just as I am and waiting not To rid myself of one dark blot, To Thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am though toss'd about 66 O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am-poor, wretched, blind, O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am Thou wilt receive, O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am-of that free love, "The breadth, length, depth, and height " to prove, Here for a season, then above, O Lamb of God, I come. Just as I am-Thy love, I own, O Lamb of God, I come. WISDOM OF SOLOMON.-S. M. King Solomon of old A happy choice had made; He chose that better part That leads to heavenly joys,- And though both wealth and ease, Far better than his crown, That wisdom which the Lord sent down, For wisdom from above, Will teach us heavenly things; If this is what we seek, We cannot ask amiss; The youngest, poorest child may speak, THE HOUR OF DEATH.-P. M. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! Day is for mortal care, Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth, Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayer; But all for thee thou mightiest of the earth! Youth and the opening rose May look like things too glorious for decay, And smile at thee! but thou art not of those Who wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! We know when moons shall wane, When summer-birds from far shall cross the sea, When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain; But who shall teach us when to look for thee? Is it when spring's first gale Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie? Thou art where billows foam, Thou art where music melts upon the air; Thou art around us in our peaceful home, And the world calls us forth, and thou art there! Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest; Thou art where foe meets foe, and tempests rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest. Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the North-wind's breath, And stars to set-but all Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! F. HEMANS. |