Have you sinned as none else in the world have before you?

Are you blacker than all other creatures in

guilt?

O fear not, and doubt not! the mother who bore

you

Loves you less than the Saviour whose blood you have spilt.

O come then to Jesus, and say how you love Him, And vow at His feet you will keep in His

grace;

For one tear that is shed by a sinner can move Him,

And your sins will drop off in His tender embrace.

Come, come to His feet and lay open your story, Of suffering and sorrow, of guilt and of shame; For the pardon of sin is the crown of His glory, And the joy of our Lord to be true to His

name.

Come quickly to Jesus for graces and pardons, Come now, for who needs not His mercy and love?

Believe me, dear children, that England's fair gardens

Are dull to the bright land that awaits you above.

PERFECTION.

O how the thought of God attracts
And draws the heart from earth,
And sickens it of passing shows
And dissipating mirth !

"T is not enough to save our souls, To shun the eternal fires;

The thought of God will rouse the heart To more sublime desires.

God only is the creature's home, Though rough and straight the road;

Yet nothing less can satisfy

The love that longs for God.

O utter but the Name of God
Down in your heart of hearts,
And see how from the world at once
All tempting light departs.

A trusting heart, a yearning eye,
Can win their way above;

If mountains can be moved by faith,
Is there less power in love?

How little of that road, my soul !
How little hast thou gone!

Take heart, and let the thought of God
Allure thee further on.

The freedom from all wilful sin,

The Christian's daily task,Oh these are graces far below

What longing love would ask!

Dole not thy duties out to God,
But let thy hand be free:

Look long at Jesus; His sweet blood,
How was it dealt to thee?

The perfect way is hard to flesh;
It is not hard to love;

If thou wert sick for want of God,
How swiftly wouldst thou move!

Then keep thy conscience sensitive;
No inward token miss;

And

entices thee ;—

go where grace Perfection lies in this.

THE STARRY SKIES.

The starry skies, they rest my soul,
Its chains of care unbind,

And with the dew of cooling thoughts
Refresh my sultry mind.

And, like a bird amidst the boughs,
I rest, and sing and rest,

Among those bright dissevered worlds,
As safe as in a nest.

And oft I think the starry sprays
Swing with me where I light,
While brighter branches lure me o'er
New gulfs of purple night.

Yes, something draws me upward there
As morning draws the lark;
Only my spell, whate'er it is,
Works better in the dark.

It is as if a home was there,
To which my soul was turning,
A home not seen, but nightly proved
By a mysterious yearning.

It seems as if no actual space
Could hold it in its bond;

Thought climbs its highest, still it is

Always beyond, beyond.

Earth never feels like home, though fresh And full its tide of mirth;

No glorious change we can conceive

Would make a home of earth.

But God alone can be a home;
And His sweet vision lies

Somewhere in that soft gloom concealed,
Beyond the starry skies.

So, as if waiting for a voice,

Nightly I gaze and sigh,

While the stars look at me silently

Out of their silent sky.

How have I erred! God is my home,
And God Himself is here;

Why have I looked so far for Him
Who is nowhere but near?

Oh, not in distant starry skies,
In vastness not abroad,
But everywhere in His whole Self
Abides the whole of God.

In golden presence not diffused,
Not in vague fields of bliss,
But whole in every present point
The Godhead simply is.

Down in earth's duskiest vales, where'er

My pilgrimage may be,

Thou, Lord! wilt be a ready home
Always at hand for me.

I spake, but God was nowhere seen;
Was His love too tired to wait?

Ah no! my own unsimple love

Hath often made me late.