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"As thy days, so shall thy strength be."— DEUT, xxxiii., 25.


Strength for to-day is all that we need,
As there will never be a to-morrow;
For to-morrow will prove but another to-day,
With its measure of joy and sorrow.

Then why forecast the trials of life

With much sad and grave persistence, And wait and watch for a crowd of ills That as yet have no existence?

Strength for to day; what a precious boon
For earnest souls who labor-

For the willing hands that minister
To the needy friend and neighbour.

Strength for to-day, that the weary hearts
In the battle for right may quail not,
And the eyes bedimmed by bit er tears
In their search for life may quail not

Strength for to-day, in house and home
To practise forbearance sweetly;
To scatter kind words and loving deeds,
Still trusting in God completely.

Strength for to-day is all that we need,

As there never will be a to-inorrow;
For to-morrow will prove but another to-day,
With its measure of joy and sorrow.

My times are in Thy hand."-Ps. xxx., 15.


Father, I know that all my life
Is portioned out for me,

And the changes that are sure to come,
I do not fear to see:

But I ask Thee for a present mind
Intent on pleasing Thee.

I ask Thee for a thoughtful love,
Through constant watching wise,
To meet the glad with joyful smiles,
And to wipe the weeping eyes;
And a heart at leisure from itself,
To soothe and sympathize.

I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,
Or secret thing to know;
I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.

Wherever in the world I am,
In whatsoe'er estate,

I have a fellowship with hearts
To keep and cultivate;

And a work of lowly love to do

For the Lord on whom I wait.

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And a mind to blend with outward life

While keeping at Thy side; Content to fill a little space, If Thou be glorified.

And if some things I do not ask
In my cup of blessing be,

I would have my spirit filled the more
With grateful love to Thee-

More careful-not to serve Thee much,
But to please Thee perfectly.

There are briers besetting every path,
That call for patient care;

There is a cross in every lot,

And an earnest need for prayer;

But a lowly heart that leans on Thee

Is happy anywhere.

In a service which Thy will appoints,
There are no bonds for me;

For my inmost heart is taught "the truth"
That makes Thy children "free;"

And a life of self-renouncing love

Is a life of liberty.


"Father, if Thou be willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done."-ST. LUKE xxii., 42.


O Lord my God, do Thou Thy holy will-
I will lie still;

I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,
And break the charm

Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
In perfect rest.

Wild Fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile
With thy false smile :

I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
Be silent, Praise,

Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
That hear thy call.

Come, self-devotion, high and pure,
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,
Though dearest hopes are faithless found,

And dearest hearts are bursting round.
Come, Resignation, spirit meek,

And let me kiss thy placid cheek,
And read in thy pale eye, serene,
Their blessing, who, by faith, can wean

Their hearts from sense, and learn to love
God only, and the joys above.

They say, who know the life divine,
And upward gaze with eagle eyne,
That by each golden crown on high,
Rich with celestial jewelry,

Which for our Lord's redeem'd is set,
There hangs a radiant coronet,

All gemmed with pure and living light,
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
Prepared for virgin souls, and them
Who seek the Martyr's diadem.

Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,
Must win their way through blood and fire.
The writhings of a wounded heart
Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.
Oft in life's stillest shade reclining,
In desolation unrepining,
Without a hope on earth to find
A mirror in an answering mind.
Meek souls there are, who little dream
Their daily strife an angel's theme,
Or that the rod they take so calm,
Shall prove in heaven a martyr's palm.

And there are souls that seem to dwell
Above this earth-so rich a spell

Floats round their steps, where'er they move,
From hopes fulfilled and mutual love.
Such, if on high their thoughts are set,
Nor in the stream the source forget.
If prompt to quit the bliss they know,
Following the Lamb where'er He go,

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