Ah, Lord! but if Thy grace impart

True sorrow for my inward stain, That look will pierce me to the heart, That crown will tear me to the brain.

Those marks upon Thy feet and hands,
That furrow in Thy sinless side,
Will sear me as with iron brands
While I with Thee hang crucified.

Nay, but the world too far, too much.

She lures me with her power to please.
How can I bear Thy healing touch
To rob me of my sweet disease?

I bathe me in a false delight,

Chew dust for bread: yet, Lord, I pray, Come, for without Thee day is night, Come now, for with Thee night is day.

Yea, by Thy love, Thy toil to save,

Thy prayer, Thy groans, Thy bloody sweat, Thy death, Thy rising from the grave,

Look down from heaven, and hear me yet.

THE HEALER.

HEN across the heart deep waves of

sorrow

Break, as on a dry and barren shore; When hope glistens with no bright to-morrow, And the storm seems sweeping evermore;

When the cup of every earthly gladness
Bears no taste of the life-giving stream,

And high hopes, as though to mock our sadness,
Fade and die as in some fitful dream;

Who shall hush the weary spirit's chiding,
Who the aching void within shall fill?
Who shall whisper of a peace abiding,
And each surging billow calmly still?

Only He whose wounded heart was broken With the bitter cross and thorny crown, Whose dear love glad words of joy had spoken, Who His life for us laid meekly down.

Blessed Healer! all our burdens lighten ;

Give us peace, Thine own sweet peace, we

pray ;

Keep us near Thee till the Morn shall brighten, And all mists and shadows flee away.

"MADE NIGH, BY THE BLOOD OF
CHRIST."

THIRST, Thou wounded Lamb of
God,

To wash me in Thy cleansing blood,
To dwell within Thy wounds; then pain
Is sweet, and life or death is gain.

Take my poor heart, and let it be
Forever closed to all but Thee!
Seal Thou my breast, and let me wear
That pledge of love forever there.

How blest are they who still abide
Close shelter'd in Thy bleeding side!
Who life and strength from Thee derive,
And by Thee move, and in Thee live!

What are our works but sin and death,
Till Thou Thy quick'ning Spirit breathe!

Thou giv'st the power Thy grace to move — O wondrous grace! O boundless love!

Ah, Lord! enlarge our scanty thought,
To know the wonders Thou hast wrought!
Unloose our stammering tongues, to tell
Thy love, immense, unsearchable !

First-born of many brethren Thou,
To Thee, lo! all our souls we bow,
To Thee our hearts and hands we give :
Thine may we die, Thine may we live!