SICKNESS SANCTIFIED.

"I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me." - Ps. cxix. 75.

FOR what shall I praise thee, my God and my King?
For what blessings the tribute of gratitude bring?
Shall I praise thee for pleasure, 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 day of delight,
And the slumbers that sat on my pillow by night?

For this should 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;

For the nights of anxiety, watchings, and tears,
A present of pain, a perspective of fears;

I praise thee, I bless thee, my King and my God,
For the good and the evil thy love hath bestowed.

The flowers were sweet, but their fragrance is flown
They yielded no fruits, they are withered and gone;
The thorn it was poignant, but precious to me,-
'T was the message of mercy, it led me to thee.

C. FRY.

"Save me,

EXTREME SUFFERINGS.

O God! for the waters are come in unto my soul."-Ps. lxix. 1.

FULL of trembling expectation,

Feeling much, and fearing more,
Mighty God of my salvation!
I thy timely aid implore;
Suffering Son of Man, be near me,
All my sufferings to sustain ;
By thy sorer griefs to cheer me,
By thy more than mortal pain.

Call to mind that unknown anguish
In thy days of flesh below;
When thy troubled soul did languish
Under a whole world of woe;
When thou didst our curse inherit,
Groan beneath our guilty load,
Burdened with a wounded spirit,
Bruised by all the wrath of God.

By thy most severe temptation,
In that dark, satanic hour;
By thy last, mysterious passion,
Screen me from the adverse power.

By thy fainting in the garden,

By thy bloody sweat, I pray,
Write upon my heart the pardon,

Take my sins and fears away.

By the travail of thy spirit,
By thine outcry on the tree,
By thine agonizing merit,

In my pangs, remember me!
By thy death I thee conjure,
A weak, dying soul befriend;
Make me patient to endure,
Make me faithful to the end.

C. WESLEY.

SUFFERING SANCTIFIED.

"I take pleasure in infirmities."-2 Cor. xii. 10.

How happy the sorrowful man,
Whose sorrow is sent from above,
Awaked by a visit of pain,

Chastised by omnipotent love!
The author of all his distress,

He comes by affliction to know; And God he in heaven shall bless, That ever he suffered below.

Thus, thus may I happily grieve,
And hear the intent of his rod;
The marks of adoption receive,
The strokes of a merciful God;
With nearer access to his throne,
My burden of follies confess,
The cause of my miseries own,

And cry for an answer of peace.

O Father of mercies! on me,
On me in affliction bestow
A power of applying to thee,
A sanctified use of my woe.
I would, in a spirit of prayer,

To all thine appointments submit,
The pledge of my happiness bear,
And joyfully die at thy feet.

WESLEY.

CHAMBER OF SICKNESS.

"And if they be holden in cords of affliction, he openeth also their ear to discipline.-Job xxxvi. 8, 10.

CHAMBER of sickness! much to thee I owe,

Though dark thou be;

The lessons it imports me most to know,
I owe to thee.

A sacred seminary thou hast been,-
I trust to train me for a happier scene.

Chamber of sickness!

Suffering and alone,

My friends withdrawn,

The blessed beams of heavenly truth have shone

On me forlorn,

With such a hallowed vividness and power,

As ne'er were granted to a brighter hour.

Chamber of sickness! Midst thy silence, oft

A voice is heard,

Which, though it fall like dew on flowers, so soft,
Yet speaks cach word

Into the aching heart's unseen recess,

With power no earthly accents could possess.

Chamber of sickness! In that bright abode,
Where there is no more pain,

If through the merits of my Saviour, God,
A seat I gain,

This theme shall tune my golden harp's soft lays,
That in thy shelter passed my earthly days.

REMEMBERED AFFLICTIONS.

"Thou, which hast showed me great and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again from the depths of the earth.” — Ps. Lxxi. 20.

I CANNOT call affliction sweet,

And yet 't was good to bear;
Affliction brought me to thy feet,
And I found comfort there.

My wearied soul was all resigned
To thy most gracious will;
O had I kept that better mind,
Or been afflicted still!