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How rare is that blest place, that age or season,
Which may not own this character of reason?
And must we therefore brutishness prefer,
Because well-used reason is so rare?
But when the drunken frenzy fit is gone,
And devils their deceiving work have done;
When death the dreaming sinner doth awake,
O what a dreadful change doth God then make?
Then wise men only are the pure and just,
Who Christ, who God obey, and in him trust.

HYMN FOR MORNING.

[PARNELL.]
See the star that leads the day,
Rising, shoots a golden ray,
To make the shades of darkness go
From heaven above and earth below;
And warn us early with the sight,
To leave the beds of silent night.
From a heart sincere and sound,
From its very deepest ground,
Send devotion up on high,
Wing'd with heat, to reach the sky.
See the time for sleep has run!
Rise before or with the sun:
Lift thy hands, and humbly pray
The Fountain of eternal day,-
That, as the light, serenely fair,
Illustrates all the tracts of air,

The sacred Spirit so may rest, With quick’ning beams upon thy breast; And kindly clear it all within, From darker blemishes of sin; And shine with grace, until we view The realm it gilds with glory too. See the day that dawns in air, Brings along its toil and care: From the lap of Night it springs, With heaps of business on its wings. Prepare to meet them in a mind That bows submissively resign'd; That would to works appointed fall, That knows that God has order'd all. And whether with a small repast We break the sober morning fast; Or in our thoughts and houses lay The future methods of the day; Or early walk, abroad to meet Our business with industrious feet; Whate'er we think, whate'er we do, His glory still be kept in view. 0, Giver of eternal bliss, Grant, heavenly Father! grant me this! Grant it to all, as well as me, All those whose hearts are fix'd on thee, Who revere thy Son above, Who thy sacred Spirit love.

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When gath'ring clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few;
On him I lean, who, not in vain,
Experienced every human pain.
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.

If aught should tempt my soul to stray,
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way,
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do;
Still He who felt temptation's power,
Will guard me in that dangerous hour.

If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer woe ;
At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
By those who shared his daily bread.

When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies;
Yet, He, who once vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

THE DAY.

(HORNE.) Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,

Bridal of earth and sky,
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;

For thou, alas! must die.
Sweet rose, in airs whose odours wave,

And colour charms the eye,
Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou, alas ! must die.
Sweet spring, of days and roses made,

Whose charms for beauty vie,
Thy days depart, thy roses fade,

Thou too, alas! must die. Be wise then, Christian, while you may,

For swiftly time is flying; The thoughtless man, that laughs to-day,

To-morrow will be dying.

CHILDREN OF LIGHT.

(BERNARD BARTON.]

WALK in the light! so shalt thou know

That fellowship of love,

Who reigns in light above.
Walk in the light-and sin, abhorred,

Shall ne'er defile again;
The blood of Jesus Christ, the Lord,

Shall cleanse from every stain.

Walk in the light!—and thou shalt find

Thy heart made truly His,
Who dwells in cloudless light enshrined,

In whom no darkness is.
Walk in the light!—and thou shalt own

Thy darkness passed away,
Because that light hath on thee shone

In which is perfect day.
Walk in the light!--and e'en the tomb

No fearful shade shall wear;
Glory shall chase away its gloom,

For Christ hath conquered there!
Walk in the light !- and thou shalt be

A path, though thorny, bright;
For God, by grace, shall dwell in thee,

And God himself is light!

A DIALOGUE

BETWEEN DEATH AND THE BELIEVER.

(BAXTER.)
Death. COME with me, poor mortal,
Quickly come away:

My name is dreadful Death.
Through this narrow portal
Come without delay;

For here I'll stop thy breath.
Presently my dart
Shall pierce thee to the heart,

And away thy life I'll have:
It is in vain to fly,
Or any friend to try :

For there's none that can thee save.

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