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PEACE of God, sweet peace of God!

Where broods on earth this gentle dove? Where spread those pure and downy wings To fhelter him whom God doth love?

Whence comes this bleffing of the soul,
This filent joy which cannot fade?
This glory, tranquil, holy, bright,
Pervading sorrow's deepest fhade?

The peace of God, the peace of God!
It fhines as clear 'mid cloud and ftorm
As in the calmeft summer day,

'Mid chill as in the sunlight warm.

O peace of God! earth hath no power
To fhed thine unction o'er the heart;
Its smile can never bring it here, -
Its frown ne'er bid its light depart.

Calm peace of God, in holy trust,
In love and faith, thy presence dwells, -
In patient suffering and toil

Where Mercy's gentle tear-drop swells.

Sweet peace, I see thy heavenly ray,
And long to light my taper there;
Then fhould I meet the cares of life,
Like angels, answering to prayer.

Monthly Religious Magazine.




HAT are we set on earth for? Say, to toil· Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, For all the heat o' the day, till it declines,

And Death's wild curfew fhall from work affoil.
God did anoint thee with his odorous oil,
To wrestle, not to reign; and He affigns
All thy tears over, like pure cryftallines,
For younger fellow-workers of the soil
To wear for amulets. So others fhall

Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand,
From thy heart, and thy hand, and thy brave cheer,
And God's grace fructify through thee to all.
The leaft flower, with a brimming cup may ftand,
And share its dew-drop with another near.

Mrs. E. B. Browning.

LORD, fhall we grumble when thy flames do

Scourge us?

Our fins breathe fire; that fire returns to purge us.
Lord, what an alchymift art thou, whose skill
Transmutes to perfect good from perfect ill!

Francis Quarles.



REMBLE not, though darkly gather
Clouds and tempefts o'er thy fky,

Still believe thy Heavenly Father

Loves thee best when storms are nigh.

When the sun of fortune shineth
Long and brightly on the heart,

Soon its fruitfulness declineth,

Parched and dry in every part.

Then the plants of grace have faded

In the dry and burning soil;

Thorns and briers their growth have shaded-
Earthly cares and earthly toil.

But the clouds are seen ascending;
Soon the heavens are overcaft;
And the weary heart is bending
'Neath affliction's stormy blast.

Yet the Lord, on high prefiding,
Rules the ftorm with powerful hand;
He the shower of grace is guiding,
To the dry and barren land.

See, at length the clouds are breaking Tempests have not paff'd in vain ; For the soul, revived, awaking,

Bears its fruit and flowers again.

Love divine has seen and counted
Every tear it caus'd to fall,
And the form which love appointed,
Was its choiceft gift of all.


N trouble and in grief, O God,


Thy smile hath cheered my way; And joy hath budded from each thorn That round my footsteps lay.

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