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ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD.
W in trial's fearful hour,
HEN I can trust my all with God,
In trial's fearful hour, Bow all resigned beneath his rod,
And bless his sparing power ; A joy springs up amid distress, A fountain in the wilderness.
Oh! to be brought to Jesus' feet,
Though sorrows fix me there,
The energies of prayer,
An earthly mind, a faithless heart,
He sees with pitying eye ;
But, kind severity !
There stands our child before the Lord,
In royal vesture drest;
Ere he had toiled at rest.
No doubts this blessed faith bedim :
Oh blefsed be the hand that gave;
Still blessed when it takes.
Who heals the heart he breaks,
EAR Jesus, give me patience here,
And faith to see my crown as near,
WAITING FOR CHRIST.
NCHANGEABLE, Almighty Lord,
The true, and merciful, and just, Be mindful of thy gracious word,
Wherein thou causest me to trust.
My weary eyes look out in vain,
And long thy saving health to see; But known to thee is all my pain,
When wilt thou come and comfort me?
Prisoner of hope, to thee I turn;
Thee my strong hold, and only stay ; Harden'd in grief, I ever mourn:
Why do thy chariot-wheels delay ?
But shall thy creature ask thee why?
No; I retract the eager prayer ; Lord, as thou wilt, and not as I;
I cannot choose : thou canst not err.
To thee, the only wise and true,
See then at last I all resign; Make me in Christ a creature new,
The manner and the time be thine.
Only preserve my soul from sin,
Nor let me faint for want of thee;
And plant thy heaven of love in me.
THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE.
“ Ye have need of patience.” — Heb. 10: 36.
GENTLE Angel walketh throughout a world of
woe, With messages of mercy to mourning hearts below; His peaceful smile invites them to love and to confide, Oh! follow in His footsteps, keep closely by His fide!
So gently will He lead thee through all the cloudy day, And whisper of glad-tidings to cheer the pilgrim-way; His courage never failing, when thine is almost gone, He takes thy heavy burden, and helps to bear it on.
To soft and tearful sadness He changes dumb despair, And soothes to deep submission the storm of grief and
Where midnight shades are brooding, He pours the
light of noon, And every grievous wound He heals, most surely, if