AFFLICTION.

WH

WORK.

HAT are we set on earth for? Say, to toil Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines, For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, And Death's wild curfew fhall from work affoil. God did anoint thee with his odorous oil, To wrestle, not to reign; and He affigns All thy tears over, like pure crystallines, For younger fellow-workers of the soil To wear for amulets. So others fhall Take patience, labor, to their heart and hand, From thy heart, and thy hand, and thy brave cheer, And God's grace fructify through thee to all. The leaft flower, with a brimming cup may ftand, And fhare its dew-drop with another near.

Mrs. E. B. Browning.

LORD, fhall we grumble when thy flames do

Scourge us?

Our fins breathe fire; that fire returns to purge us.
Lord, what an alchymist art thou, whose skill
Transmutes to perfect good from perfect ill!

Francis Quarles.

TR

DISCIPLINE.

REMBLE not, though darkly gather
Clouds and tempefts o'er thy sky,

Still believe thy Heavenly Father

Loves thee best when storms are nigh.

When the sun of fortune shineth

Long and brightly on the heart,

Soon its fruitfulnefs declineth,

Parched and dry in every part.

Then the plants of grace have faded

In the dry and burning soil;

Thorns and briers their growth have shaded—
Earthly cares and earthly toil.

But the clouds are seen ascending;
Soon the heavens are overcaft;
And the weary heart is bending
'Neath affliction's ftormy blast.

Yet the Lord, on high prefiding,
Rules the ftorm with powerful hand;
He the shower of grace is guiding,
To the dry and barren land.

See, at length the clouds are breakingTempefts have not paff'd in vain;

For the soul, revived, awaking,

Bears its fruit and flowers again.

Love divine has seen and counted
Every tear it caus'd to fall,
And the ftorm which love appointed,
Was its choiceft gift of all.

པོ་་

RESIGNATION.

N trouble and in grief, O God,

IN

Thy smile hath cheered my way; And joy hath budded from each thorn That round my footsteps lay.

The hours of pain have yielded good,
Which prosperous days refused;

As herbs, though scentlefs when entire,
Spread fragrance when they're bruised.

The oak strikes deeper, as its boughs
By furious blasts are driven;

So life's viciffitudes the more

Have fixed my heart in heaven.

All-gracious Lord! whate'er my lot
In other times may be,

I'll welcome still the heaviest grief
That brings me near to thee.

THY WILL BE DONE.

"It is the Lord; let him do what seemeth to him good."

M

Y Jesus, as Thou wilt!

I Sam. 3: 18.

Oh! may Thy will be mine!

Into Thy hand of love

I would my all refign.
Through sorrow, or through joy,
Conduct me as Thine own,

And help me still to say,

My Lord, Thy will be done!

My Jesus, as Thou wilt!

If among thorns I go,

Still sometimes here and there
Let a few roses blow.

But Thou on earth, along

The thorny path hast gone,

Then lead me after Thee;

My Lord, Thy will be done!

My Jesus, as Thou wilt!

Though seen through many a tear,

Let not my ftar of hope

Grow dim or disappear.
Since Thou on earth haft wept
And sorrowed oft alone,

If I must weep with Thee,

My Lord, Thy will be done!

My Jesus, as Thou wilt!

If loved ones must depart,