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النشر الإلكتروني

Yes, I would count them all but loss,

To gain the notice of thine eye. Flesh shrinks and trembles at the Cross,

But thou canst give the victory.

Thou, who for Peter's faith didst

pray, Against whose blessed self were hurld The Tempter's darts, be thou my stay!

Help me to overcome the world.

Thy grace can make the boastful meek,

The wavering firm, the sensual pure; Put heavenly might upon the weak,

And make them happy who endure.

Oh, still that needful

grace

afford !

On thee my trembling soul I cast. Perfect thy work within me, Lord,

And own my worthless name at last.

“ More than they that watch for the morning.”—Psalm cxxx. 6.

Oh, when will smiling morn

Dispel the shades of night ? -
But hark ! another hour is gone !

Oh, when will it be light?

But danc'd there not a beam

Of daylight on my pane?

Ah! 'twas the moon's inconstant beam :

Now all is dark again.

Shine out, fair orb! 'Tis sweet,

While I in darkness lie,
T' indulge awhile the bright deceit,

And breathe th' alternate sigh.

Oh, darker far than night,

Care's sullen shadows roll.

I sit and watch in vain for light,

The morning of the soul.

And if athwart the scene,

Hope her soft moonbeam cast, Again the clouds soon intervene,

And the bright moment's past.

Or if around

my head

Fond dreams of pleasure dance,

Reality, with thundering tread,

Soon wakes me from my trance.

But dimly through the gloom,

Yon mountain top behold ! What radiant fires its head illume,

And turn the clouds to gold ?

Oh! 'tis th' unrisen beams

Of never-ending day! Fond Hope, shake off thy earthly dreams;

Pursue thy pilgrim way.

Arise, and let us climb

That sacred mountain's height, And look beyond the rocks of Time

O’er boundless seas of light.

O happy, happy spheres,
Where sorrows never rise,

And not a passing cloud appears,

To shade the sapphire skies !

Fly on, ye years of night!

Oh, they will soon be past : Eternity appears in sight,

And 'twill be morn at last.

“ Nevertheless, I am continually with Thee.”—Psalm lxxiii. 23.

WHEN, in the hour of lonely woe,
I give my sorrows leave to flow,
And care, and fear, and dark distrust,
Weigh down my spirit to the dust;

When not e'en Friendship's gentle aid
Can heal the wounds the world has made ;
Oh, this shall check each rising sigh,
My Saviour is for ever nigh.

His counsels and upholding care

My safety and my comfort are:
And he shall guide me all my days,
Till glory crown the work of grace.

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