My precious babe, thy restless cry ;-
E'en hope, affrighted, flees away,
As if it had no heart to stay.

Come, then, my God, and take the place
Of these distracting hopes and fears;
'Stablish this trembling heart with grace,

Dry with thine hand these falling tears;
And teach me to confide in thee

The treasure thou couldst trust with me.

Happy if, rescued from the strait

Of being called on to decide, Here with submissive soul I wait, By thy decision to abide,

Life, with its blessings and its pain,

Or death, with its "to die is gain."

MONSELL.

FOR MY MOTHER.

"Despise not thy mother when she is old."- Prov. xxiii. 22.

O, HOW Soft that bed must be,

Made in sickness, Lord, by thee! And that rest, how calm, how sweet, Where Jesus and the sufferer meet!

It was the good Physician now

Soothed thy cheek and chafed thy brow;
Whispering, as he raised thy head,-
"It is I, be not afraid."

God of glory, God of grace,

Hear from heaven, thy dwelling-place;

Hear, in mercy, and forgive,

Bid thy child believe, and live.

Bless her, and she shall be blest,
Soothe her, and she shall have rest;

Fix her heart, her hopes, above,
Love her, Lord, for thou art love.

THE AGED.

"Now, also, when I am old and gray-headed, O God, forsake me not; until I have showed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come."- Ps. lxxi. 18.

WITH years oppressed, with sorrows worn,
Dejected, harassed, sick, forlorn,

To thee, O God, I pray ;

To thee my withered hands arise,
To thee I lift these failing eyes,
O, cast me not away!

Thy mercy heard my infant prayer,
Thy love, with all a mother's care,
Sustained my childish days,

Thy goodness watched my ripening youth,
And formed my heart to love thy truth,
And filled my lips with praise.

O Saviour! has thy grace declined ?
Can years affect the Eternal mind?
Or time its lone decay?

A thousand ages pass thy sight,
And all their long and weary flight
Is gone like yesterday.

Then, even in

age

and grief, thy name

Shall still my languid heart inflame,

And bow my faltering knee.
O, yet this bosom feels the fire,

This trembling hand and drooping lyre
Have yet a strain for thee.

Yes, broken, tuneless, still, O Lord,
This voice transported shall record
Thy goodness tried so long:
Till sinking slow, with calm decay,
Its feeble murmurs melt away

Into a seraph's song.

GRANT.

THE DYING FATHER.

"Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them alive; and let thy widows trust in me."-Jer. xlix. 11.

O THOU faithful God of love!
Gladly I thy promise plead;
Waiting for my last remove,
Hastening to the happy dead:
Lo, I cast on thee my care,
Breathe my latest breath in prayer!

Trusting in thy word alone,
I to thee my children leave;
Call my little ones thine own,

To them all thy blessings give:
Keep them while on earth they breathe,
Save their souls from endless death.

Whom I to thy grace commend,
Under thy protection take :
Be her sure, immortal friend;
Save her for my Saviour's sake:
Free from sin, from sorrow free,
Let

my widow trust in thee.

Father of the fatherless,

Husband of the widow prove;

Me and mine vouchsafe to bless,
Tell me, we shall meet above :
Seal the promise on my heart,
Bid me then in peace depart!

SICKNESS AND HEALING.

C. WESLEY.

the peo

"Healing all manner of sickness, and all manner of disease among ple." Matt. iv. 23.

How frail are these bodies of clay!
How soon all their vigor is lost!
They flourish in beauty to-day,-
To-morrow they mingle with dust.

So flowers in the morning may rise,
Unfolding their leaves to the sun;
While the breath of each zephyr that sighs
May blast them, and soon they are gone.

Afflictions spring not from the ground,
Diseases our Sovereign obey;

His hand can heal every wound,
'Or fill us with death and dismay.

We lie at thy sovereign control,

O Lord, in this hour of distress;