HYMN FOR A SICK BROTHER.

THOUGH my brother's cheek is pale,
And dim his heavy eye;

Though strength and pulse and spirits fail,
And tell us he must die;

Yet we may hold sweet converse still,
By Siloam's pool and Kedron's rill.

Though his sports have ceased to please,
The books he loved are closed,

Yet there are themes more dear than these,
On which his mind reposed;

His infant mind was taught to read

That book, the food of all who need

Now on its pages let us dwell,

And open Thou his ear, Whilst we of life and mercy tell,

That message still to hear;

Oh, give him strength to prize that lore,
Though every other joy is o'er.

Let thy blessing, Saviour, rest
On his fevered brow;

May his bed of pain be blessed,
And comfort him e'en now;

Through fear and suffering and the grave,
Send Thou thy help, and come and save.

If thy gracious will decree

That here he tarry not, Thou in our hour of trial be,

And soothe his mortal lot;

Through the dark pass we all must treadOh, shield him dying-bless him dead!

ON THE DEATH OF A BROTHER.

MY BROTHER! thou art laid

Within thy little tomb; Sweet brother! thou hast paid Thy debt to justice soon; Whatever sorrow may befall,

Our God hath sheltered thee from all.

I love to think on thee,

And thy bright smiling brow, Thy many gifts to me,

More dearly precious now!

Dear brother! every book we read

Seems to speak to me from the dead.