Page images




HEY gave to Thee


T Myrrh, frankincense and gold;

But, Lord, with what shall we

Present ourselves before thy majesty,

Whom Thou redeemedft when we were sold? We've nothing but ourselves, and scarce that neither;

Vile dirt and clay;

Yet it is soft and may

Impreffion take.

Accept it, Lord, and say, this Thou hadft rather;

Stamp it, and on this sordid metal make

Thy holy image, and it shall outshine

The beauty of the golden mine.


Jeremy Taylor. 1650.


Y soul, there is a countrie

MY Afar beyond the stars,

Where ftands a wingéd sentrie
All skilfull in the wars.

There, above noise and danger,

Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles,

And One born in a manger

Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious friend

And (O my soul, awake!) Did in pure love descend,

To die here for thy sake.

If thou canst get but thither,

There growes the flowre of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortreffe, and thy ease.
Leave, then, thy foolish ranges ;

For none can thee secure
But One, who never changes,
Thy God, thy Life, thy Cure.

Henry Vaughan. 1621-1695.

[ocr errors]

LOVE divine, how sweet thou art! When fhall I find my willing heart All taken up by thee?

I thirst, and faint, and die to prove,
The greatness of redeeming love, –
The love of Chrift to me.

He only knows the love of God;
O that it now were fhed abroad
In this poor ftony heart!
For love I figh, for love I pine;
This only portion, Lord, be mine;
Be mine this better part.

O that I could forever fit,

With Mary, at the Master's feet !
Be this my happy choice;
My only care, delight, and bliss,
My joy, my heaven on earth, be this, —
To hear the Bridegroom's voice.

O that, with humbled Peter, I

Could weep, believe, and thrice reply,

My faithfulness to prove.

Thou know'ft, (for all to Thee is known, Thou know'ft, O Lord, and Thou alone,

Thou know'ft that Thee I love.

O that I could, with favor'd John,
Recline my weary head upon

The dear Redeemer's breast !
From care, and fin, and sorrow free,
Give me, O Lord, to find in Thee
My everlasting rest.

Thy only love do I require,
Nothing in earth beneath defire,

Nothing in heaven above;

Let earth, and heaven, and all things go,

Give me Thy only love to know,

Give me Thy only love.

Charles Wesley.



LLAH, Allah!" cried the fick man, racked with pain the long night through;

Till with prayer his heart grew tender, till his lips like

honey grew.

But at morning came the Tempter; said, "Call louder,

child of Pain!

See if Allah ever hear, or answers, 'HERE AM I,' again.'

[ocr errors]

Like a ftab, the cruel cavil through his brain and pulses


To his heart an icy coldness, to his brain a darkness,


Then, before him, stands Elias; says, "My child, why thus dismayed?

Doft repent thy former fervor? Is thy soul of prayer afraid?"

"Ah!" he cried, "I've called so often; never heard the 'Here am I';

And I thought, God will not pity; will not turn on me his eye."

[ocr errors]

Then the grave Elias answered, "God said, Rise,

Elias; go

Speak to him, the sorely tempted; lift him from his gulf of woe.

"Tell him that his very longing is itself an answering


That HIS prayer, "Come, gracious Allah!" is My answer, "Here am I."'

Every inmoft aspiration is God's angel undefiled; And in every 'O my Father!' flumbers deep a 'Here, my child.'


Tholuck's verfion. Tranflated by Rev. James F. Clarke.

« PreviousContinue »