Let not my heart within me burn,
Except in all I Thee discern.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought, how sweet to rest
Forever on my Saviour's breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live :
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.

Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Steer through the tempest Thine own ark:
Amid the howling wintry sea

We are in port if we have Thee.

The rulers of this Christian land,
"Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand,
Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright;
Let all do all as in Thy sight.

Oh, by Thine own sad burthen, borne
So meekly up the hill of scorn,
Teach Thou Thy priests their daily cross
To bear as Thine, nor count it loss!

If some poor wandering child of Thine
Have spurned to-day the voice divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin,
Let him no more lie down in sin.

Watch by the sick; enrich the poor
With blessings from Thy boundless store;
Be every mourner's sleep to-night
Like infant slumbers, pure and light.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take;
Till in the ocean of Thy love

We lose ourselves in heaven above.

FRAGMENT.

There are in this loud stunning tide

Of human care and crime,

With whom the melodies abide

Of the everlasting chime;

Who carry music in their heart

Through dusky lane and wrangling mart,

Plying their daily toil with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.

Sir John Bowring.

1792-1872.

HYMN.

Father, Thy paternal care

Has my guardian been, my guide.
Every hallowed wish and prayer
Has Thy hand of love supplied.
Thine is every thought of bliss-
Left by hours and days gone by;

Every hope Thy offspring is,
Beaming from futurity.

Every sun of splendid ray ;

Every moon that shines serene ;
Every morn that welcomes day;
Every evening's twilight scene;
Every hour which wisdom brings;
Every incense at Thy shrine ;-
These, and all life's holiest things,
And its fairest, all are Thine.

And for all, my hymns shall rise
Daily to Thy gracious throne;
Thither let my asking eyes

Turn unwearied, righteous One!
Through life's strange vicissitude,
There reposing all my care;
Trusting still, through ill and good,

Fixed, and cheered, and counselled there.

benry Francis Lyte.

1793-1847.

LONG DID I TOIL.

Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest,

Far did I rove, and found no certain home; At last I sought them in His sheltering breast,

Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come :

With Him I found a home, a rest divine;
And I since then am His, and He is mine.

Yes! He is mine! and naught of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or

power,

The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings,

Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that 's thine! Go, I my Saviour's am, and He is mine.

The good I have is from His stores supplied;
The ill is only what He deems the best;

He for my Friend, I'm rich with naught beside;

And poor without Him, though of all possest: Changes may come; I take, or I resign;

Content, while I am His, while He is mine.

Whate'er may change, in Him no change is seen;

A glorious Sun, that wanes not nor declines; Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, And sweetly on His people's darkness shines: All may depart; I fret not, nor repine,

While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine.

He stays me falling, lifts me up when down, Reclaims me wandering, guards from every

foe;

Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown; Which, in return, before His feet I throw, Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine, Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine.

While here, alas ! I know but half His love,
But half discern Him, and but half adore ;
But when I meet Him in the realms above,
I hope to love Him better, praise Him more,
And feel and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am His, and He is mine.

ABIDE WITH ME.

Abide with me: fast falls the even-tide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me, abide !
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away:
Change and decay in all around I see;

O Thou, who changest not, abide with me!

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word;
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free,

Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me.