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DEVOTIONAL POETRY.

THE MERCIES OF AFFLICTION.

O God, my God, the living God,
Who form'd me from the dust,
I bow beneath thy chastening rod
And own that thou art just;

For in the days of health my love
To earthly things was given,
And careless of the things above,
I little thought of heaven.

Thou gavest youth, but in my youth

From thee I went astray,

Thy gift the cleansing word of truth— I kept not day by day.

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Strength thou bestow'd-but with my strength

I never loved thee,—

Oh who can comprehend the length

Of love thou hadst for me!

Health, wealth, and friends thou freely gave;

I counted them mine own—

The friends I lov'd are in the

grave,

And health and wealth are flown.

The sickly frame, the aching brow,
The heart with sorrow rent,

These are the healing gifts which thou
mercy now hast sent.

In

Lord, bless them to me, grant that they
May work my perfect cure,

May wean my heart from earth away
To mansions that endure.

K. T.

"And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night, and shalt have none assurance of thy life." Deut. xxviii. 66.

Christian! on thy sick couch laid,
Is thy soul oppress'd with sorrow?
Art thou day by day afraid
What shall happen on the morrow?
Look, oh, look thine heart within,
Fear and sorrow rise from sin.

How did Judah in her pride

Faint at sound of fallen leaf!

When from faith she turn'd aside

How her heart was wrung with grief!
Day she wish'd were turn'd to night
And the darkness chang'd for light.

Christian! on thy sick couch laid,
Soon shall pass away thy fear,
When thy peace with God is made;
He regards the contrite tear,
He will comforts on thee shed,
In thy sickness make thy bed.

Then, though sickness long abide,
Sorrow soon will flee away;

God in anger doth not chide
Those who seek the perfect way,
But doth chasten in his love,

Ere He calls to realms above.

K. T.

"All things, whatsoever ye shall ask in prayer believing, ye shall receive." Matt. xxi. 22.

Oft had I pray'd, believing pray'd,

Yet nothing could obtain ;

And in my folly, oft I said,
Lord, is thy promise vain?

I pray'd in youth, that I might win
The race of youthful pride;
Though hope burn'd like a fire within
My heart, it was denied.

I pray'd for power, I pray'd for wealth;
Nor wealth nor power was mine.

In lingering pain I pray'd for health,
And felt my strength decline.

At the last, Wisdom spoke-" My son,
Christ's kingdom is of heaven;

Ask heavenly things-they shall be done,”
I ask'd, and it was given.

The Rev. SAMUEL HINDS.

When on bed of pain I lie

Through the night with waking eye,

And to Thee for help I cry,

Hear me, O Lord!

Thy kind mercy flies apace,
Hide not from me then thy face;
Aid my weakness with thy grace,

And hear me, O Lord!

When my nature lies opprest,
And to thee I sue for rest,

Think not scorn of my request,

But hear me, O Lord!

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