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THEY gave to Thee

Myrrh, frankincense and gold;
But, Lord, with what shall we
Present ourselves before thy majesty,
Whom Thou redeemedst 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 hadît rather ;
Stamp it, and on this sordid metal make

Thy holy image, and it shall outshine
The beauty of the golden mine. Amen.

Jeremy Taylor. 1650.



Mafar beyond the stars


Y soul, there is a countrie

Afar the stars, Where stands 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 fortresse, 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.

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LOVE divine, how sweet thou art!

When shall 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 Christ to me.

He only knows the love of God;
O that it now were shed abroad

In this poor stony 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 sit,
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,
Could weep, believe, and thrice reply,

My faithfulness to prove.
Thou know'st, (for all to Thee is known,
Thou know'st, O Lord, and Thou alone,

Thou know'st 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 sin, and sorrow free,
Give me, O Lord, to find in Thee

My everlasting rest.

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

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.


“ALLAH, Allah!” cried the fick man, racked with

” ,

night 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.” Like a stab, the cruel cavil through his brain and pulses

went ; 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."

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

cry; That his prayer, “Come, gracious Allah!” is My answer,

« Here am I.,

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

my child.'

Dscheladeddin. Tholuck's version. Translated by Rev. James F. Clarke.

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