Suffer me not in any want

To seek refreshment from a plant
Thou didst not set; since all must be
Plucked up whose growth is not from Thee.
'Tis not the garden and the bowers,
Nor sense and forms, that give to flowers
Their wholesomeness; but Thy good will,
Which truth and pureness purchase still.

Then, since corrupt man hath driven hence
Thy kind and saving influence,
And balm is no more to be had
In all the coasts of Gilead-

Go with me to the shade and cell
Where Thy best servants once did dwell.
There let me know Thy will, and see
Exiled religion owned by Thee;
For Thou canst turn dark grots to halls,
And make hills blossom like the vales,
Decking their untilled heads with flowers,
And fresh delights for all sad hours;
Till from them, like a laden bee,
I may fly home, and hive with Thee!

HENRY VAUGHAN.

THE ELDER SCRIPTURE.

THERE is a book, who runs may read,
Which heavenly truth imparts,
And all the lore its scholars need-
Pure eyes and loving hearts.

The works of God, above, below,
Within us, and around,
Are pages in that book, to show
How God himself is found.

The glorious sky, embracing all,
Is like the Father's love;
Wherewith encompassed, great and small
In peace and order move.

The dew of heaven is like His grace:
It steals in silence down;
But where it lights, the favored place
By richest fruits is known.

Two worlds are ours: tis only sin
Forbids us to descry

The mystic heaven and earth within,
Plain as the earth and sky.

Create my soul anew,

Else all my worship's vain;

This wretched heart will ne'er be true Until 't is formed again.

And how their splendor fills mine eyes,
Methinks it is too large a grace,

But that Thy love ordained it so-
That creatures in so high a place
Should servants be to man below.

The meanest lamp now shining there
In size and lustre doth exceed
The noblest of Thy creatures here,
And of our friendship hath no need.

Yet these upon mankind attend,
For secret aid, or public light;
And from the world's extremest end
Repair unto us every night.

O! had that stamp been undefaced Which first on us Thy hand had set, How highly should we have been graced, Since we are so much honored yet.

Good God, for what but for the sake Of Thy beloved and only Son, Who did on Him our nature take, Were these exceeding favors done!

As we by Him have honored been, Let us to Him due honors give; Let His uprightness hide our sin, And let us worth from Him receive. Yea, so let us by grace improve What Thou by nature dost bestow That to Thy dwelling-place above We may be raised from below.

GEORGE WITHER.

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