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O blessed Life! the mind that sees,
Whatever change the years may bring,
A mercy still in everything,
And shining through all mysteries.

O blessed Life! the soul that soars,
When sense of mortal sight is dim,
Beyond the sense-beyond to Him
Whose love unlocks the heavenly doors.

O blessed Life! heart, mind, and soul From self-born aims and wishes free, In all at one with Deity,

And loyal to the Lord's control.

O Life! how blessed!-how divine !-
High Life, the earnest of a higher :
Saviour! fulfil my deep desire,
And let this blessed Life be mine.

W. T. MATSON.

372.-Praise in Affliction.

FOR

P.M.

JOB Xiii. 15.

OR what shall I praise Thee, my God and my King?

For what blessings the tribute of gratitude bring?

Shall I praise Thee for plenty, for health, and for ease,

For the spring of delight, and the sunshine of peace?

Shall I praise Thee for flowers that bloomed on my breast,

For joys in perspective, and pleasures possessed?

For the spirits that heightened my days of delight,

And the slumbers that sat on my pillow by night?

For this would I praise Thee! but if only for this

I should leave half untold the donation of bliss:

I thank Thee for sickness, for sorrow, for care,

For the thorns I have gathered, the anguish I bear:

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Joy is like restless day; but peace divine

Like quiet night;

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Lead me, O Lord, till perfect day shall I WOULD not live alway-live alway

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IN the dark and stormy night When far from land I cry with fear, Shine o'er the waves, thou holy Light,

Then, O my Saviour, be Thou near! Though from afar, let me but see

Dim through the dark Thy gliding form, And bright the gloomy hour will be

That brought Thy presence in the storm.

Then lift Thy hand, and bid me come,

And higher though the tempest blow, I, through the wind and through the gloom, To Thy loved side will gladly go. The wind is fair that blows to Thee,

The wave is firm that bears me on; And stronger still that love to me

Which many waters could not drown.

Or, for Thy coming bid me wait;

My soul in patience shall abide ;
And though the storm may not abate,
I will not seek another guide.
With Thee I fear no angry blast,

With Thee my course points ever home; And in good time, all perils past,

To the Fair Havens I shall come. JAMES D. BURNS.

376.-"I would not live alway." JOB vii. 16.

N abridgment from a longer poem which is given by Dr. Schaff, Christ in Song, p. 525. A great favourite

with the churches in America. The Plymouth Collection gives the Hymn in a yet shorter form and with several various readings.

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no, I'll not linger when bidden to go: The days of our pilgrimage granted us here,

Are enough for life's woes, full enough for its cheer.

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