LOVE divine, how sweet thou art! When fhall I find my willing heart All taken up by thee?

I thirst, and faint, and die to prove,
The greatness of redeeming love,-
The love of Chrift to me.

He only knows the love of God;
O that it now were fhed abroad
In this poor ftony heart!
For love I figh, for love I pine;
This only portion, Lord, be mine;
Be mine this better part.

O that I could forever fit,
With Mary, at the Master's feet!
Be this my happy choice;
My only care, delight, and bliss,
My joy, my heaven on earth, be this, -
To hear the Bridegroom's voice.

O that, with humbled Peter, I

Could weep, believe, and thrice reply,

My faithfulness to prove.

Thou know'ft, (for all to Thee is known, Thou know'ft, O Lord, and Thou alone, Thou know'ft that Thee I love.

O that I could, with favor'd John,
Recline my weary head upon

The dear Redeemer's breast!

From care, and fin, and sorrow free,
Give me, O Lord, to find in Thee
My everlasting rest.

Thy only love do I require,
Nothing in earth beneath defire,

Nothing in heaven above;

Let earth, and heaven, and all things go,

Give me Thy only love to know,

Give me Thy only love.

Charles Wesley.

"A1

THE ANSWER.

LLAH, Allah!" cried the fick man, racked with pain the long night through;

Till with prayer his heart grew tender, till his lips like

honey grew.

But at morning came the Tempter; said, "Call louder, child of Pain!

See if Allah ever hear, or answers, 'HERE AM I,' again.”

Like a ftab, the cruel cavil through his brain and pulses

went;

To his heart an icy coldnefs, to his brain a darkness,

sent.

Then, before him, ftands Elias; says, "My child, why thus dismayed?

Doft repent thy former fervor? Is thy soul of prayer afraid?

"Ah!" he cried, "I've called so often; never heard the 'Here am I';

And I thought, God will not pity; will not turn on me his eye."

Then the grave Elias answered, "God said, Rise, Elias; go

Speak to him, the sorely tempted; lift him from his gulf of woe.

"Tell him that his very longing is itself an answering

cry;

That HIS prayer, "Come, gracious Allah!" is My answer, "Here am I.”'

Every inmoft aspiration is God's angel undefiled; And in every 'O my Father!' flumbers deep a 'Here, my child.'

Dscheladeddin.

Tholuck's verfion. Tranflated by Rev. James F. Clarke.

THA

CHEAP MEDICINE.

HAT which makes us have no need
Of phyfic, that's phyfic indeed.
Hark hither, reader! wilt thou see
Nature her own phyfician be?
Wilt see a man, all his own wealth,
His own mufic, his own health;
A man whose sober soul can tell
How to wear her garments well;
Her garments that upon her fit,
As garments fhould do, close and fit;

A well-cloth'd soul that's not oppreff'd

Nor chok'd with what fhe fhould be dreff'd ; —

A soul fheath'd in a cryftal fhrine,

Through which all her bright features fhine;

As when a piece of wanton lawn,
A thin, aerial veil, is drawn
O'er beauty's face, seeming to hide,
More sweetly fhows the blufhing bride;
A soul, whose intellectual beams
No mifts do mafk, no lazy ftreams;

A happy soul, that all the way

To heaven rides in a summer's day?
Would't see a man, whose well-warmed blood
Bathes him in a genuine flood?

A man whose tunéd humors be

A seat of rareft harmony?

Would't see blithe looks, fresh cheeks beguile
Age? Would't see December smile?
Would't see nefts of new roses grow

In a bed of reverend snow?

Warm thoughts, free spirits flattering
Winter's self into a spring?

In sum, would't see a man that can
Live to be old-and ftill a man?
Whose latest and most leaden hours

Fall with soft wings, stuck with soft flowers

And when life's sweet fable ends,

Soul and body part like friends;
No quarrels, murmurs, no delay;
A kiss, a figh, and so away?

This rare one, reader, would't thou see?

Hark hither! and thyself be he.

Richard Crafbaw. 1637-1650.