5 And if this year I'm call'd to die,
Still on this promise I'll rely;
Dear Jesus, then I'll trust in Thee,
That as “my days my strength shall be.”

"Sacred Poetry," 2nd Series.

H

CHRISTIAN LIBERTY.

E is the freeman whom the truth makes free,
And all are slaves besides; there's not a
chain

That hellish foes confederate for his harm,
Can wind around him, but he casts it off
With as much ease as Samson his green withes.
He looks abroad into the varied field

Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight,
Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
His are the mountains, and the valleys his,
And the resplendent rivers. His to enjoy
With a propriety that none can feel.
But who, with filial confidence inspired,
Can lift to Heaven an unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling say, "My Father made them all!"
Are they not his by a peculiar right,

And by an emphasis of interest his,

Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy,

Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind,
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love,
That planned and built, and still upholds a world
So clothed with beauty for rebellious man?

Cowper.

I

ON CHRISTIAN DEVOTEDNESS.

WHO

HO doubting asks, what shall I give?
Or, what shall I withhold?

Whose heart can be, when Christ demands,

So thankless and so cold.

2 O think of all His love to thee!
Think what thy ransom cost!
The blood of God's dear Son above,
Avail'd to save the lost.

3 Think of the blessings He has bought,
The debt thou could'st not pay,
And of the place prepared for thee,
In realms of endless day.

4 And wilt thou then, withhold from Him,
Aught that His grace bestows?
No! let us give our all to Him,
Whose love no limit knows.

5 And what a privilege to feel
That we are wholly His,

With all we have, with all we are:
Oh! this indeed is bliss.

6 Come, let us then, without reserve, Devote ourselves to God;

He will accept the sacrifice,

Cleans'd in a Saviour's blood.

"Sacred Poetry, 2nd Series.

"I HAVE CHOSEN THEE IN THE FURNACE

OF AFFLICTION"

I

CHOSEN, art

'HOSEN, chosen, thou art chosen,

Israel's God hath promised ever,
He will be Thy Shield and Guide.

2 Well He knew thy every frailty,

All thine inmost thoughts could see;
Therefore, not in wrath, but mercy,
Did He lay His hand on thee.

3 As a tender father chasteneth
E'en the child he dearly loves,
So the Lord our God in mercy
Oft our faith by trials proves.

4 Oft He smites His wayward children,
When He sees they wander wide,
Blights their hopes and blasts their prospects,
All to bring them to His side.

5 Every time He smites or wounds us, 'Tis a token of His love,

Sent in mercy to assure us,

We're remembered from above.

6 In affliction's furnace chosen,

We an entrance blest shall gain,
Where instead of grief and sorrow,
Joy and peace eternal reign.

M. B.

I

W

CHRIST'S INVITATION.

ITH tearful eyes I look around;
Life seems a dark and stormy sea;
Yet midst the gloom I hear a sound,
A heavenly whisper, "Come to me."

2 It tells me of a place of rest;

It tells me whither I may flee; Oh! to the weary, faint, opprest,

How sweet the bidding, "Come to me."

3 When the poor heart with anguish learns
That earthly props resigned must be,
And from each broken cistern turns,
It hears the accents, "Come to me."

4 When against sin I strive in vain,

5

And cannot from its yoke get free,
Sinking beneath the heavy chain,
The words arrest me, "Come to me."

"Come, for all else must fail and die;
Earth is no resting-place for thee;
Heavenward direct thy weeping eye;
I am thy portion, Come to me.'

6 Saviour of mercy, and of love!

In death my stay and refuge be;
Support me, cheer me, from above,
And gently whisper, "Come to me.'

"Sacred Poetry," 2nd Series.

M

I

CONSOLATION FOR THE DISTRESSED.

WHE

HEN the disciples saw the Lord,
On the rough sea appear;

While round the angry billows roar'd,
Their souls were fill'd with fear.

2 But soon the gracious Jesus spoke,
In words which peace convey'd,
For from His lips these accents broke,
"Tis I; be not afraid."

3 O Lord! if round my sinking head The waves of sorrow roll;

The words which then the Saviour said, Shall cheer my struggling soul.

4 I'll think from thee the trials came, Thy work of grace to aid,

And still shall hear Thy voice exclaim, "Tis I; be not afraid."

5 Thy matchless power can every day
Give blessings and remove;

But if Thou give or take away,
'Tis mercy still, and love.

6 Then round me though the billows roll, I will not sink dismay'd;

Thy voice shall speak within my soul,
Tis I; be not afraid."

A. Opie