Thou knowest all our needs, and wilt supplyNo veil of darkness hides us from Thine eye, Nor vainly, from the depths, on Thee we call ; Thy tender love, that breaks the tempter's thrall, Folds and encircles all.

Through sorrow and through loss, by toil and prayer.

Saints won the starry crowns which now they

wear,

And by the bitter ministry of pain,

Grievous and harsh, but oh! not sent in vain, Found their eternal gain.

If it be ours, like them, to suffer loss,
Give grace, as unto them, to bear our cross,
Till, victors over each besetting sin,

We, too, Thy perfect peace shall enter in,
And crowns of glory win.

WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH.

O

PRAYER.

prayer, to prayer ;—for the morning breaks,

And earth in her Maker's smile

awakes.

His light is on all below and above,
The light of gladness and life and love.
Oh, then, on the breath of this early air,
Send upward the incense of grateful prayer.

To prayer:-for the glorious sun is gone,
And the gathering darkness of night comes

on.

Like a curtain from God's kind hand it flows To shade the couch where His children repose. Then kneel while the watching stars are bright,

And give your last thoughts to the Guardian of night.

To prayer:-for the day that God has blest
Comes tranquilly on with its welcome rest.
It speaks of Creation's early bloom;

It speaks of the Prince that burst the tomb.
Then summon the spirit's exalted powers,
And devote to Heaven the hallowed hours.

There are smiles and tears in that gathering band,

Where the heart is pledged with the trembling

hand.

What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,

As the bride bids parent and home farewell!
Kneel down by the side of the tearful there,
And strengthen the fateful hour with prayer.

There are smiles and tears in the mother's

eyes,

For her new-born infant beside her lies:

Oh hour of bliss! when the heart o'erflows

With a rapture a mother only knows :

Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer; Let it swell up to heaven for her precious

care.

Kneel down by the dying sinner's side,
And pray for his soul through Him who died.
Drops of anguish are thick on his brow;

Oh what is earth and its pleasures now?
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?

Kneel down at the couch,of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in the eye which the Spirit

sends ;

There is peace in his calm confiding air ;

For his thoughts are with God, and his last words prayer.

The voice of prayer at the sable bier!
A voice to strengthen, to soothe, to cheer.
It commends the spirit to God who gave ;
It lifts the thoughts from the cold dark grave;
It points to the glory where He shall reign,
Who whispered, "Thy brother shall rise
again."

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they

sing;

But a sinless and joyous song they raise ;
And their voices of prayer is eternal praise.

Awake, awake, and gird up thy strength
To join that holy band at length.

To Him, who unceasing love displays,

Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise, To Him thy heart and thy hours be given;

For a life of prayer is a life of Heaven.

HENRY WARE, Jr.