Think, O Jesus, for what reason
Thou enduredst earth's spite and treason,
Nor me lose in that dread season.

Seeking me thy worn feet hasted, On the cross thy soul death tasted, Let such labor not be wasted.

Righteous Judge of retribution, Grant me perfect absolution, Ere that day of execution.

Culprit-like, I heart all broken, On my cheek shame's crimson token Plead the pardoning word be spoken.

Mid the sheep a place decide me, And from goats on left divide me, Standing on the right beside thee.

When the accursed away are driven,
To eternal burnings given,
Call me with the blest to heaven.

I beseech thee, prostrate lying, Heart as ashes, contrite, sighing, Care for me when I am dying.

On that awful day of wailing,

When man, rising, stands before thee,
Spare the culprit, God of glory!

Translated by ABR. COLES, M. D.

LITANY.

-

SAVIOUR, when in dust to thee
Low we bow the adoring knee;
When, repentant, to the skies
Scarce we lift our weeping eyes,
O, by all thy pains and woe
Suffered once for man below,
Bending from thy throne on high,
Hear our solemn litany!

By thy helpless infant years;
By thy life of want and tears;
By thy days of sore distress
In the savage wilderness;
By the dread mysterious hour
Of the insulting tempter's power, -
Turn, 0, turn a favoring eye,
Hear our solemn litany!

By the sacred griefs that wept
O'er the grave where Lazarus slept ;
By the boding tears that flowed
Over Salem's loved abode;

THE HOLY SPIRIT.
IN the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick at heart, and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drowned in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the artless doctor sees
No one hope but of his fees,
And his skill runs on the lees,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When his potion and his pill,
His or none or little skill,
Meet for nothing, but to kill,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing bell doth toll,
And the Furies, in a shoal,
Come to fright a parting soul,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,

Sweet Spirit, comfort me!

Tranquil amidst alarms,

It found him in the field,

A veteran slumbering on his arms, Beneath his red-cross shield: His sword was in his hand,

Still warm with recent fight; Ready that moment, at command, Through rock and steel to smite.

At midnight came the cry,

To meet thy God prepare!"

He woke, and caught his Captain's eye; Then, strong in faith and prayer,

His spirit, with a bound,

Burst its encumbering clay;

His tent, at sunrise, on the ground,
A darkened ruin lay.

The pains of death are past,

Labor and sorrow cease;

And life's long warfare closed at last,
His soul is found in peace.
Soldier of Christ! well done;
Praise be thy new employ;
And while eternal ages run,
Rest in thy Saviour's joy.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

WHEN I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent, which is death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more
bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask: But Patience, to prevent

SAID I not so, that I would sin no more?
Witness, my God, I did;

Yet I am run again upon the score:
My faults cannot be hid.

What shall I do?- Make vows and break them still?

'T will be but labor lost;

My good cannot prevail against mine ill:
The business will be crost.

O, say not so; thou canst not tell what strength
Thy God may give thee at the length.
Renew thy vows, and if thou keep the last,
Thy God will pardon all that 's past.
Vow while thou canst; while thou canst vow,
thou mayst

Perhaps perform it when thou thinkest least.

Thy God hath not denied thee all,
Whilst he permits thee but to call.
Call to thy God for grace to keep

Thy vows; and if thou break them, weep. Weep for thy broken vows, and vow again : Vows made with tears cannot be still in vain. Then once again

I vow to mend my ways;

Lord, say Amen,

And thine be all the praise,

GEORGE HERBERT

ON JORDAN'S STORMY BANKS.

ON Jordan's stormy banks I stand,

And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie.

O the transporting, rapturous scene
That rises to my sight!

Sweet fields arrayed in living green,

And rivers of delight.

There generous fruits, that never fail,
On trees immortal grow;
There rock, and hill, and brook, and vale
With milk and honey flow.