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EXHORTATION TO PRAYER.

NOT on a prayerless bed, not on a prayerless bed

Compose thy weary limbs to rest;

For they alone are blessed

With balmy sleep

Whom angels keep;

Nor, though by care oppressed,

Or anxious sorrow,

Or thought in many a coil perplexed

For coming morrow,

Lay not thy head

On prayerless bed.

For who can tell, when sleep thine eyes shall

close,

That earthly cares and woes

To thee may e'er return?

Arouse, my soul!

Slumber control,

And let thy lamp burn brightly;
So shall thine eyes discern
Things pure and sightly;
Taught by the Spirit, learn
Never on prayerless bed
To lay thine unblest head.

Hast thou no pining want, or wish, or care,
That calls for holy prayer?
Has thy day been so bright
That in its flight

There is no trace of sorrow?
And art thou sure to-morrow

Will be like this, and more
Abundant? Dost thou yet lay up thy store,
And still make plans for more?
Thou fool! this very night

Thy soul may wing its flight.

Hast thou no being than thyself more dear, That ploughs the ocean deep,

And when storms sweep
The wintry, lowering sky,
For whom thou wak'st and weepest?
O, when thy pangs are deepest,
Seek then the covenant ark of prayer;
For He that slumbereth not is there-
His ear is open to thy cry.

O, then, on prayerless bed
Lay not thy thoughtless head.

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CHARITY.

COULD I command, with voice or pen,
The tongues of angels and of men,
A tinkling cymbal, sounding brass,
My speech and preaching would surpass;
Vain were such eloquence to me,
Without the grace of charity.

Could I the martyr's flame endure,
Give all my goods to feed the poor-
Had I the faith from Alpine steep
To hurl the mountain to the deep-
What were such zeal, such power, to me
Without the grace of charity?

Could I behold with prescient eye
Things future, as the things gone by—
Could I all earthly knowledge scan,
And mete out heaven with a span-
Poor were the chief of gifts to me
Without the chiefest-charity.

Charity suffers long, is kind—
Charity bears a humble mind-
Rejoices not when ills befall,
But glories in the weal of all;
She hopes, believes, and envies not,
Nor vaunts, nor murmurs o'er her lot.

The tongues of teachers shall be dumb,
Prophets discern not things to come,
Knowledge shall vanish out of thought,
And miracles no more be wrought;
But charity shall never fail--
Her anchor is within the veil.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

FOR THOSE THAT WAIT FOR FULL REDEMPTION.

LIGHT of life,-seraphic fire,Love divine, Thyself impart! Every fainting soul inspire ;

Shine in every drooping heart; Every mournful sinner cheer;

Scatter all our guilty gloom; Son of God, appear! appear!

To Thine human temples come.

Come in this accepted hour

Bring Thine heavenly kingdom in; Fill us with the glorious power

Rooting out the seeds of sin. Nothing more can we require,

We will covet nothing less; Thou art all our heart's desire,All our joy, and all our peace.

Whom but Thee have we in heavenWhom have we on earth but Thee? Only Thou to us be given

All besides is vanity;

Grant us love, we ask no more—

Every other gift remove; Pleasure, fame, and wealth, and power, Still we all enjoy in love.

CHARLES WESLEY.

FOR BELIEVERS.

THOU hidden source of calm repose,
Thou all-sufficient Love divine,
My help and refuge from my foes,
Secure I am if Thou art mine!
And lo! from sin, and grief, and shame,
I hide me, Jesus, in Thy name.

Thy mighty name salvation is,

And keeps my happy soul above; Comfort it brings, and power, and peace, And joy, and everlasting love; To me, with Thy dear name, are given Pardon, and holiness, and heaven.

Jesus, my all in all Thou art

My rest in toil, my ease in pain; The medicine of my broken heart;

In war my peace; in loss my gain; My smile beneath the tyrant's frown; In shame my glory and my crown;

In want my plentiful supply;

In weakness my almighty power; In bonds my perfect liberty;

My light in Satan's darkest hour; In grief my joy unspeakable; My life in death, my heaven in hell. CHARLES WESLEY

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