SACRED POETRY.

O THAT IT WERE WITH ME AS IN MONTHS PAST!

Tune-" HIGHLAND MARY."

Happy the time when Christ my Lord
Appear'd from guilt to save me,
When first I heard his gracious word :-

"Poor sinner, I forgive thee." A new creation round me smiled, What glories met together!—

I felt that God was reconciled;
That I might call him Father.

New hopes, new joys, my soul possessed,
New light upon me shining,

In Jesus I found perfect rest,

And thought I'd ceased from sinning:
How vain did seem each earth-born care!
Each earth-born hope or pleasure!
How poor did all things else appear,
Compared with heav'nly treasure!

My soul o'erflowed with love divine—
My mouth was filled with praises;
I loved to call my Jesus mine,
And tell of all his graces.
Redeeming love was all my theme,
Redeeming grace bestowing;
Whene'er I heard my Saviour's name,
It set my bosom glowing

But all those heavenly joys are flown-
Because of sin I languish;

I see my Saviour on me frown,
How keen my bosom's anguish!
Like weeping Peter, Lord, I come,
Dear Saviour, end my mourning!
Receive a guilty wanderer home-
O welcome me returning!

THE PRODIGAL RETURNING TO HIS FATHER.

I will arise, and go to my Father, and will say unto him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no more worthy to be called thy son: make me as one of thy hired servants.-Luke xiv. 18, 19.

Long the ways of sin I've trod,
Long have walked the downward road,
Long rebelled against my God,

And sovereign grace have spurn'd,

Mercy's calls I've all withstood,

Trampled on redeeming blood,
Fearless of that fiery flood,

Where all the tares are burned.

Hating God, his word, his cause,
People, government, and laws,
My dear Redeemer, and his cross,
My guilt how great its load!

Loving sin, I scorned to pray;
Harder made my heart each day;
Wandering farther from the way
To glory and to God.

Light now bursts upon my eyes:
Now I see with sad surprise,
How vile I am, and will arise,
And to my Father go;

"Father, I'm a wretch undone!
For my sins can ne'er atone;
But the merits of thy Son,

Can save from endless wo."

I for Christ my Saviour pant,
Jesus, thou art all I want;
Be thou mine, and to me grant,
To sit at thy dear feet;

I thy yoke no longer fear,
I will all thy burden bear,
Wage with sin unceasing war,
Dear Saviour, I submit.

THINE EYES SHALL SEE THE KING IN HIS BEAUTY.

ISAIAH XXXIII. 17.

All glorious is my King,
Immanuel is his name!
His wondrous love I sing,

His wondrous grace proclaim;
'Tis wondrous grace indeed to me—
I, in his beauty, Jesus see!

Directed by his star,

A heavenly babe is found;
A manger is his bed,

With swaddling clothes he's bound:
Transcendant beauty here I see,

My God assumes this form for me!

From sacred Olivet,

What truth his lips impart!

Blessings unnumbered pledged,

To all the pure in heart:

Behold the grace! to me, my God,

Points out the straight, the heavenly road.

Astonished I behold

Thy power, Almighty Lord,

I see the leper cleansed,

The palsied man restored,

"And stand erect!" Thy word he hears,
And to his house his bed he bears: