AF

DISTRACTIONS IN PRAYER.

H! dearest Lord! I cannot pray,
My fancy is not free;

Unmannerly distractions come,

And force my thoughts from Thee.

The world that looks so dull all day
Glows bright on me at prayer,
And plans that afk no thought but then
Wake up and meet me there.

All nature one full fountain seems

Of dreamy fight and sound,

Which, when I kneel, breaks up its deeps, And makes a deluge round.

Old voices murmur in my ear,
New hopes start into life,
And past and future gayly blend
In one bewitching ftrife.

My very flesh has reftless fits;

My changeful limbs conspire

With all these phantoms of the mind
My inner self to tire.

I cannot pray; yet, Lord! Thou know'st
The pain it is to me

To have my vainly-struggling thoughts
Thus torn away from Thee.

Prayer was not meant for luxury,
Or selfish pastime sweet;

It is the proftrate creature's place
At his Creator's feet.

Had I, dear Lord! no pleasure found
But in the thought of Thee,

Prayer would have come unsought, and been
A truer liberty.

Yet Thou art oft most present, Lord!

In weak diftracted prayer;

A finner out of heart with self

Moft often finds Thee there.

And prayer that humbles, sets the soul
From all illufions free,

And teaches it how utterly,

Dear Lord! it hangs on Thee.

The soul, that on self-sacrifice

Is dutifully bent,

Will bless thy chastening hand that makes

Its prayer its punishment.

Ah, Jesus! why should I complain ?
And why fear aught but fin?
Distractions are but outward things;
Thy peace dwells far within!

These surface-troubles come and go,
Like rufflings of the sea;

The deeper depth is out of reach
To all, my God, but Thee!

Faber.

WHE

PREPARATIVE TO PRAYER.

HEN thou doft talk with God-by prayer I meanLift up pure hands, lay down all luft's defires; Fix thoughts on heaven, present a conscience clean : Since holy blame to mercy's throne aspires, Confess faults' guilt, crave pardon for thy fin, Tread holy paths, call grace to guide therein.

It is the spirit with reverence must obey

Our Maker's will, to practise what He taught: Make not the flesh thy council when thou pray; 'Tis enemy to every virtuous thought;

It is the foe we daily feed and clothe;
It is the prison that the soul doth loathe.

Even as Elias, mounting to the sky,

Did caft his mantle to the earth behind;
So, when the heart presents the prayer on high,

Exclude the world from traffic with the mind:
Lips near to God, and ranging heart within,
Is but vain babbling, and converts to fin.

As Abraham, ascending up the hill

To sacrifice; his servants left below,
That he might act the great Commander's will,
Without impeach to his obedient blow;
Even so the soul, remote from earthly things,
Should mount salvation's fhelter-mercy's wings.

Southwell.

CHRIST.

PASTOR ANIMARUM.

COME

(From the Spanish.)

OME, wandering sheep, O come!
I'll bind thee to my breaft;

I'll bear thee to thy home,
And lay thee down to rest.

I saw thee ftray forlorn,

And heard thee faintly cry,
And on the tree of scorn

For thee I deign'd to die-
What greater proof could I
Give, than to seek the tomb?
Come, wandering fheep, O come!

I fhield thee from alarms,

And wilt thou not be bleft?

I bear thee in my arms;
Thou, bear me in thy breast!
O, this is love—come, rest-
This is a blissful doom.

Come, wandering sheep, O come!