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Jesus is thy pilot wise,
Christian, fear not, He is near;
Lord of earth, and sea, and skies,
Till the storms—the dangers past,
Thou shalt gain heaven's port at last.
PAUL THE AGED.
"yet for love's sake I rather beseech thee, being such an one as Paul the aged, and now also a prisoner of Jesus Christ."—Philemon, ver. 9.
See in yon lonely prison cell
Who, breathing slaughter as a flame,
Brought death and woe where'er he came?
Aye! 'tis the same, but where the ire
That proudly swelled his eye of fire?
And the stern frown that o'er his brow
Cast its dark shade—where is it now?
His eyes have lost their flash of pride,
For they have seen the Crucified;
And now with holy fervour burn
As raised in prayer to heaven they turn.
His grateful spirit longs to tell
Of the true friend he loved so well;
His heart is tuned to sing the praise
Of Jesu's name in glowing lays.
And in that lonely prison-room,
Heedless of its sad, cheerless gloom,
He breathes the words of peace and love,
Filled with an unction from above.
Blest martyr! now thy course is run—
The battle fought, the victory won;
For thee a crown of glory waits,
THE DYING GIRL.
"and it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom."— Luke xvi. 22.
"Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation."— Heb. i. 14.
"Loosen thy hold, sweet mother, let me go, And leave this land—this mournful land of
woe; I long to flee away, and be at rest— To lay my weary head on Jesu's breast;
I long to see His face, whose precious blood
flower, To bloom with beauty in a heavenly bower; Cease, mourning friends, and follow in the
road, That led that happy spirit to her God. IN TRIAL.
"Out of the depths have I cried to thee, 0 Lord."— Psalm cxsx. 1.
Jesus beneath Thy cross I lie,
Plunged in affliction's stormy deep;
Out of the depths to Thee I cry,
Yet, Lord, a look from Thee shall give relief,
And calm the raging billows of my grief.
Thy smile is more than heaven to me,—
My stricken heart would cling to Thee,
Thy love's a cordial sweet, a healing balm,
To cure my wounds, my mourning soul to calm.