GUIDANCE.

'Mine eyes are ever toward the Lord; for he shall pluck my feet out of the net.'-PSALM XXV. 15.

GOOD Shepherd! am I not thy sheep?

Do I not love thy way ?

Oh keep thy word, my feet to keep,
And guide me lest I stray.

Strong enemies my path beset,
And would my heart appal;

They dig the pit, and spread the net,
And watch to see me fall.

Good Lord, mine eyes are unto Thee,
My steps shall be thy care;

I have no refuge where to flee,
But Thou art everywhere.

D

Rejoice not, then, O wary foe !

On weakness rests his might :

From blackest cloud best shines the bow; In darkness breaks the light.

'Yea, though He slay me, I will trust !'

Well sang that saint of old;

His humbled face he bowed in dust,
And then came forth as gold.

O grace! through pain or shame to tread
The path my Saviour trod;

O bliss! that hand upon my head—
The good hand of my God!

DELIVERANCE.

'I will be glad and rejoice in thy mercy for thou hast considered my trouble; thou hast known my soul in adversities.'

PSALM XXXI. 7.

My thankful heart to Thee, O God,

Its humble tribute pays,

Adores Thee for thy chastening rod,

Thy guiding staff obeys.

The bitterness of death is past :

Throughout the gloomy vale

Thy truth and mercy held me fast,
And sin could not prevail.

The waves were wild, and dark the night,

But still thy voice was near,

And often gleamed a heavenly light,

My fainting hope to cheer.

And when around me roared the flame,

It only set me free

From galling bands of sin, there came
No smell of fire on me.

All night thy love hath been my stay,
And now the morn is nigh;

O keep me, Saviour, all the day
Beneath thy watchful eye.

On Thee my every care I roll :
I give myself to be

For ever, body, spirit, soul,

A sacrifice to Thee.

1847.

HYMN1

WHEN on Horeb's mountain lonely
Stood, O Lord, thy chosen seer,
Wind and earthquake witnessed only,
With the fire, that Thou wert near.
In the hush and calm unbroken

Came thy voice all still and small,
And thy Prophet knew the token,
And obeyed the thrilling call.

So with solemn awe and wonder
Smote our hearts the crash of war;

Shook our land the echoed thunder
From those Eastern hills afar :

Now for peace our land rejoices,
On her wounds Thou pourest balm,

And with happy, thankful voices,

Lord, we bless Thee for the calm.

Written for the openings of the Parochial Schools, Brompton, Kent; the schools having been erected as a memorial of the peace, 1856.