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452. CHOICE.

A WISE man likes that best, that is itself;

Not that which only seems, though it look fairer. Middleton.

So much to win, so much to lose,

No marvel that I fear to choose.-Miss Landon.

Think not too meanly of thy low estate;
Thou hast a choice; to choose is to create !
Remember whose the sacred lips that tell,
Angels approve thee, when thy choice is well;
Remember, One, a judge of righteous men,
Swore to spare Sodom, if she held but ten!
Use well the freedom which thy Master gave,
(Think'st thou that Heaven can tolerate a slave?)
And He who made thee to be just and true
Will bless thee, love thee,-ay, respect thee too!
Holmes.

453- CHRIST. Alone with

ALONE with Thee! alone with Thee!

O Friend Divine !

Thou Friend of friends, to me most dear,
Though all unseen, I feel Thee near;
And, with the love that knows no fear,
I call Thee mine.

Alone with Thee! alone with Thee!

Now through my breast

There steals a breath like breath of balm That healing brings and holy calm,

That soothes like chanted song or psalm,

And makes me blest.

Alone with Thee! alone with thee!

Thy grace more sweet

Than music in the twilight still,
Than airs that groves of spices fill,

More fresh than dews on Hermon's hill,

My soul doth greet.

Alone with Thee! alone with Thee!

In Thy pure light

The splendid pomps and shows of time,
The tempting steeps that pride would climb,
The peaks where glory rests sublime,

Pale on my sight.

Alone with Thee! alone with Thee!

My soften'd heart

Floats on the flood of love Divine,
Feels all its wishes drown'd in Thine,
Content that every good is mine
Thou canst impart.

Alone with Thee! alone with Thee!
I want no more

To make my earthly bliss complete,
Than oft my Lord unseen to meet ;
For sight I wait till tread my feet
Yon glistering shore.

Alone with Thee! alone with Thee!
There not alone,

But with all saints, the mighty throng, My soul unfetter'd, pure, and strong, Her high communings shall prolong Before Thy throne.-Ray Palmer.

454 CHRIST. Clinging to

O HOLY Saviour, Friend unseen,
Since on Thine arm Thou bid'st me lean,
Help me throughout life's varying scene
By faith to cling to Thee.

Blest with this fellowship Divine,
Take what Thou wilt, I'll ne'er repine;
E'en as the branches to the vine,

My soul would cling to Thee.
Far from her home, fatigued, oppress'd,
Here she has found her place of rest;
An exile still, yet not unbless'd,
While she can cling to Thee.

Without a murmur I dismiss
My former dreams of earthly bliss ;'
My joy, my consolation this,

Each hour to cling to Thee.

What though the world unfaithful prove, And earthly friends and joys remove; With sure and certain hope of love,

Still would I cling to Thee.

Oft when I seem to tread alone

Some barren waste, with thorns o'ergrown,
Thy voice of love, in gentle tone,
Whispers Still cling to Me.'

Though faith and hope may oft be tried,

I ask not, need not aught beside :

How safe, how calm, how satisfied,
The soul that clings to Thee!

They fear not Satan, nor the grave,— They feel Thee near and strong to save; Nor dread to cross e'en Jordan's wave,

Because they cling to Thee. Bless'd is my lot, whate'er befall; What can disturb me, who appal, While as my Strength, my Rock, my All, Saviour, I cling to Thee.-Elliott.

455. CHRIST. Confessing

To tell the Saviour all my wants,

How pleasing is the task!

Nor less to praise Him when He grants Beyond what I can ask.

My labouring spirit vainly seeks

To tell but half the joy;
With how much tenderness He speaks,
And helps me to reply.

Nor were it wise, nor should I choose,

Such secrets to declare :

Like precious wines, their tastes they lose,
Exposed to open air.

But this with boldness I proclaim,
Nor care if thousands hear,—
Sweet is the ointment of His name ;
Nor life is half so dear.

And can you frown, my former friends,
Who knew what once I was,

And blame the song that thus commends
The Man who bore the cross?

Trust me, I draw the likeness true,

And not as fancy paints; Such honour may He give to you! For such have all His saints.-Cowper.

456. CHRIST: for whom He suffered.
WHEREFORE Weep we over Jesus,
O'er His death and bitter smart?
Weep we rather that He sees us

Unconvinced and hard of heart;
For His soul was never tainted

With the smallest spot or stain:
'Twas for us He was acquainted
With such depths of grief and pain.
Oh! what profits it with groaning
Underneath His cross to stand?
Oh! what profits our bemoaning

His pale brow and bleeding hand?
Wherefore gaze on Him expiring,

Rail'd at, pierced, and crucified, Whilst we think not of inquiring, Wherefore, and for whom He died?

If no sin could be discover'd

In the pure and spotless Lord, If the cruel death He suffer'd

Is sin's just and meet reward: Then it must have been for others That the Lord on Calvary bled, And the guilt have been a brother's, Which was laid upon His head.

And for whom hath He contended
In a strife so strange and new?
And for whom to hell descended?
Brothers! 'twas for me and you!
Now you see that He was reaping
Punishment for us alone;

And we have great cause for weeping,
Not for His guilt, but our own.
If we then make full confession
Join'd with penitence and prayer,
If we see our own transgression
In the punishment He bare,
If we mourn with true repentance,
We shall hear the Saviour say,
'Fear not I have borne your sentence;
Wipe your bitter tears away.'

Spitta, tr. by Massie.

457. CHRIST: for whom He suffered.
O HEAD, so full of bruises!
Brow, that its life-blood loses !
O great humility!
Across His face are flying
The shadows of the dying :
'Twas suffer'd all for me!

O back, by scourges ploughed !
O soul, by sorrow bowèd

Upon the accursed tree!
He hears the bitter scorning;
'Tis night, without a dawning:
'Twas suffer'd all for me!

Eye, that in darkness sinketh?
Lip, that the red cup drinketh!

Hands, bound to misery!
See, from His feet forth streameth
The fountain that redeemeth!

'Twas suffer'd all for me!

And now He speaks: oh hearken,
While clouds all nature darken!

'Lama Sabacthani !'

His head is bent, and droopeth,

To such a death He stoopeth!

'Twas suffer'd all för me !-Stammers.

458. CHRIST: His death.

O'ERWHELM'D in depths of woe,
Upon the tree of scorn,
Hangs the Redeemer of mankind,
With racking anguish torn.

See! how the nails those hands

And feet so tender rend!

See! down His face, and neck, and breast, His sacred blood descend.

Hark! with what awful cry
His spirit takes its flight;

That cry, -it pierced His Mother's heart,
And whelm'd her soul in night.

Earth hears, and to its base

Rocks wildly to and fro;

Tombs burst; seas, rivers, mountains quake: The veil is rent in two.

The sun withdraws his light; The midday heavens grow pale; The moon, the stars, the universe, Their Maker's death bewail. Shall man alone be mute? Come, youth and hoary hairs! Come, rich and poor! come, all mankind! And bathe those feet in tears. Come fall before His Cross, Who shed for us His blood; Who died the victim of pure love, To make us sons of God.

Jesu, all praise to Thee,

Our joy and endless rest!

Be Thou our guide while pilgrims here,
Our crown amid the blest.

Tr. from the Latin by E. Caswall.

459. CHRIST: His death.

O WORLD! behold upon the tree
Thy Life is hanging now for thee,

Thy Saviour yields His dying breath;
The mighty Prince of glory now
For thee doth unresisting bow
To cruel stripes, to scorn and death.

Alas! my Saviour, who could dare
Bid Thee such bitter anguish bear,

What evil heart entreat Thee thus?
For Thou art good, hast wrongèd none,
As we and ours too oft have done :

Thou hast not sinn'd, dear Lord, like us.

I and my sins, that number more
Than yonder sands upon the shore,
Have brought to pass this agony.
'Tis I have caused the floods of woe
That now Thy dying soul o'erflow,

And those sad hearts that watch by Thee.

Yet Thou dost even for my sake
On Thee, in love, the burdens take,

That weigh'd my spirit to the ground.
Yes: Thou art made a curse for me,
That I might yet be blest through Thee:
My healing in Thy wounds is found.

From henceforth there is nought of mine
But I would seek to make it Thine,

Since all myself to Thee I owe.
Whate'er my utmost powers can do,
To Thee to render service true,
Here at Thy feet I lay it low.

Gerhardt, tr. by Miss Winkworth.

460. CHRIST: His faithfulness.
NOT seldom, clad in radiant vest,

Deceitfully goes forth the morn;
Not seldom, evening in the west
Sinks smilingly forsworn.
The smoothest seas will sometimes prove,
To the confiding bark, untrue;
And, if she trust the stars above,

They can be treacherous too.

The umbrageous oak, in pomp outspread,
Full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
Draws lightnings down upon the head
It promised to defend.

But Thou art true, incarnate Lord,

Who didst vouchsafe for man to die : Thy smile is sure, Thy plighted word No change can falsify.

I bent before Thy gracious throne,

And ask'd for peace with suppliant knee;

And peace was given, nor peace alone,

But faith, and hope, and ecstasy !— Wordsworth.

461. CHRIST: His incarnation.

ALL praise to Thee, eternal Lord!
Clothed in a garb of flesh and blood;
Choosing a manger for Thy throne,
While worlds on worlds are Thine alone.
Once did the skies before Thee bow:
A Virgin's arms contain Thee now;
Angels, who did in Thee rejoice,
Now listen for Thine infant voice.

A little child, Thou art our guest,
That weary ones in Thee may rest;
Forlorn and lowly is Thy birth,
That we may rise to heaven from earth.

Thou comest in the darksome night
To make us children of the light,—,

To make us, in the realms divine,

Like Thine own angels round Thee shine.

All this for us Thy love hath done;

By this to Thee our love is won :
For this we tune our cheerful lays,
And shout our thanks in ceaseless praise.

Schaff

462. CHRIST: His knowledge of our necessities. THOU knowest, Lord, the weariness and sorrow Of the sad heart that comes to Thee for rest; Cares of to-day, and burdens for to-morrow,

Blessings implored, and sins to be confess'd; I come before Thee at Thy gracious word, And lay them at Thy feet; Thou knowest, Lord. Thou knowest all the past; how long and blindly On the dark mountains the lost sheep had stray'd; How the Good Shepherd follow'd, and how kindly He bore it home upon His shoulders laid,

And heal'd the bleeding wounds, and soothed the pain,

And brought back life, and hope, and strength again.

Thou knowest all the present; each temptation,
Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear;

All to myself assign'd of tribulation,

Or to beloved ones, than self more dear;
All pensive memories, as I journey on,
Longings for vanish'd smiles and voices gone.

Thou knowest all the future gleams of gladness,
By stormy clouds too quickly overcast,
Hours of sweet fellowship and parting sadness,
And the dark river to be cross'd at last;
Oh, what could hope and confidence afford
To tread that path, but this-Thou knowest, Lord.
Thou knowest, not alone as God, all knowing;

As man, our mortal weakness Thou hast proved; On earth with purest sympathies o'erflowing,

O Saviour, Thou hast wept, and Thou hast loved!
And love and sorrow still to Thee may come,
And find a hiding-place, a rest, a home.

Therefore I come, Thy gentle call obeying,
And lay my sins and sorrows at Thy feet,
On everlasting strength my weakness staying,

Clothed in Thy robe of righteousness complete ;
Then rising and refresh'd, I leave Thy throne,
And follow on to know as I am known.

463. CHRIST: His knowledge of the heart.
THERE is no need of words of mine to tell
My heart to Thee; Thou needest not to spell,
As others must, my hidden thoughts and fears,
From out my broken words, my sobs, or tears;
Thou knowest all, knowest far more than I,
The inner meaning of each tear or sigh.

464. CHRIST: His love for children.

THERE is no sweeter story told
In all the blessed Book,

Than how the Lord within His arms
The little children took.

We love Him for the tender touch
That made the leper whole,
And for the wondrous words that heal'd
The tired, sin-sick soul.

But closer to His loving self

Our human hearts are brought, When for the little children's sake Love's sweetest spell is wrought.

For their young eyes His sorrowing face
A smile of gladness wore-

A smile that for His little ones
It weareth evermore.

The voice that silenced priest and scribe,
For them grew low and sweet;
And still for them His gentle lips
The loving words repeat:

'Forbid them not!' O blessed Christ!

We bring them unto Thee,

And pray that on their heads may rest Thy benedicite!—E. D.

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'Mong the people who hung on His teaching, Or waited His touch and His word, Through the row of proud Pharisees hastening, She press'd to the feet of the Lord.

"Now, why shouldst thou hinder the Master,'
Said Peter, with children like these?
Seest not how, from morning till evening,
He teacheth, and healeth disease?'
Then Christ said, Forbid not the children;
Permit them to come unto me:'

And He took in His arms little Esther,

And Rachel He set on His knee.-Julia Gill.

466. CHRIST: His love our solace.

SWEET is the solace of Thy love,
My heavenly Friend, to me,
While through the hidden way of faith
I journey home with Thee,
Learning by quiet thankfulness
As a dear child to be.

Though from the shadow of Thy peace
My feet would often stray,
Thy mercy follows every step,
And will not turn away;
Yea, Thou wilt comfort me at last,
As none beneath Thee may.

Oft in a dark and lonely place,
I hush my hasten'd breath,
To hear the comfortable words
Thy loving Spirit saith ;
And feel my safety in Thy hand
From every kind of death.

Oh, there is nothing in the world

To weigh against Thy will;

E'en the dark times I dread the most Thy covenant fulfil;

And when the glorious morning dawns I find Thee with me still.

No other comforter I need,

If Thou, dear Lord, be mine ;Thy rod will bring my spirit low, Thy fire my heart refine,

And cause me pain that none can heal By other love than Thine.

Then in the secret of my soul,

Though hosts my peace invade, Though through a waste and weary land My lonely way be made, Thou, even Thou, wilt comfort meI need not be afraid.

Still in the solitary place

I would awhile abide,
Till with the solace of Thy love

My heart is satisfied,
And all my hopes of happiness

Stay calmly at Thy side.-A. L. Waring.

467. CHRIST: His plea with the sinner.

I BORE with thee long weary days and nights,
Through many pangs of heart, through many tears;
I bore with thee, thy hardness, coldness, slights,
For three and thirty years.

Who else had dared for thee what I have dared?
I plunged the depth most deep from bliss above;
I not my flesh, I not my spirit spared:

Give thou me love for love.

For thee I thirsted in the daily drouth,

For thee I trembled in the nightly frost :
Much sweeter thou than honey to my mouth;
Why wilt thou still be lost?

I bore thee on my shoulders, and rejoiced :
Men only mark'd upon my shoulders borne
The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,
Or wagg'd their heads in scorn.

Thee did nails grave upon my hands; thy name
Did thorns for frontlets stamp between mine eyes:
I, Holy ONE, put on thy guilt and shame;
I, GOD, Priest, Sacrifice.

A thief upon my right hand and my left;
Six hours alone, athirst, in misery :

At length, in death, one smote my heart, and cleft
A hiding-place for thee.

Nail'd to the racking cross, than bed of down
More dear, whereon to stretch myself and sleep:
So did I win a kingdom,-share my crown;
A harvest, come and reap.

Christina Rossetti.

468. CHRIST: His presence longed for.

My Saviour, whom absent I love,

Whom, not having seen, I adore, Whose name is exalted above

All glory, dominion, and power,Dissolve Thou those bands that detain My soul from her portion in Thee; Ah! strike off this adamant chain, And make me eternally free

When that happy era begins,

When array'd in Thy glories I shine,

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