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I know, I feel how mean, and how unworthy,
The trembling sacrifice I pour before thee.
What can I offer in thy presence truly?

But sin and folly.

For in thy sight, who every bosom viewest,
Cold are our warmest vows, and vain our truest
Thoughts of a hurrying hour, our lips repeat
them,

Our hearts forget them.

We see thy hand, it leads us, it supports us,
We hear thy voice, it counsels and it courts us
And then we turn away, but still thy kindness

Pardons our blindness.

And still thy rain descends, thy sun is glowing; Fruits ripen round, flowers are beneath us blow

ing;

And, as if man were some deserving creature,

Joys cover nature.

O how long suffering, Lord, but thou delightest, To win with love the wand'ring : Thou invitest, By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,

Man from his errors.

Who can resist thy gentle call appealing,
To every generous thought and grateful feeling;

That voice paternal, whispering, watching ever,

My bosom? Never,

Father and Saviour, plant within that bosom These seeds of holiness, and bid them blossom In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,

And spring eternal.

Then place them in those everlasting gardens,
Where angels and seraphs are the wardens;
Where every flow'r that creeps through death's

dark portal,
Becomes immortal.

BOWRING,

Self-Examination.

“ Blessed is he whose conscience hath not condemned him, and who is not fallen from his hope in the Lord."

Eccl. xiv. 2.

'Ere thou giv'st thine eyes to sleep,

When thou seek'st thy peaceful bed,
Let thy thoughts their vigil keep,

Let thy soul its wings outspread.
Commune with thy wakeful heart :

Be communion, joy, or pain;
'Tis true, wisdom's better part

Thus to live the past again.

If with memory's eye review'd,

Peace the parted day affords;
Turn to God with gratitude,

For the glory is the Lord's.
If that retrospect but show

Good neglected, evil done,
Seek for strength, whence strength must flow,

On the morrow such to shun.

BerNARD BARTON.

Contrition for Sin.

O remember not against us former iniquities; let thy tender mercies speedily prevent us; for we are brought very low.”—Ps. lxxix.

When nightly as I rest me on my bed,
I trace in memory how the day has sped.
Recal each erring thought, each idle word ;
Each gift misused, and warning voice unheard.
The world conciliated, the cross denied,
The impatient wish, the swelling bosom's pride.
My spirit shrinks in terror from the view,
And mourns to think my God must see it too.
Tremendous thought! and must that holy eye
Look through my bosom's close obscurity ?

And to all-judging excellence reveal,
What I, a mortal, am ashamed to feel.
Search every thought, and---no, it must not be,
I cannot, dare not, meet the scrutiny.
Hide me, my Saviour, in that darkness hide,
That veil'd creation when its Maker died.
Cast o'er my soul the mantle of thy love,
And veil its blackness from the spirits above;
Let me, my Saviour, know the guilt I prove,
Is more than cancell’d by thy dying love.

CAROLINE FRY.

Praise.

From all that dwell below the skies
Let the Creator's praise arise,
Let the Redeemer's name be sung ;
Through every land, by every tongue.
Eternal are thy mercies, Lord,
Eternal truth is in thy word,
Thy praise shall sound from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.

Your lofty themes ye mortals bring,
In songs of praise divinely sing,
The great salvation loud proclaim,
And shout for joy the Saviour's name ;

In every land begin the song,
To every land the strains belong ;
In cheerful sounds your voices raise,
And fill the world with loudest praise.

Prayer.

Father of light and life! thou Good Supreme !
O teach me what is good; teach me Thyself.
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,
From every low pursuit; and feed my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure
Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss.

THOMSON,

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