THE BLESSING OF DISCIPLINE.

Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: Thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to Thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto Thee for ever."-PSALM XXX. II, 12.

STRENGTH of the still secluded thought,
That fears, yet longs, its joy to show-
The hope, the awe, in mercy taught

To make me strong, to keep me low—
Now shall my girded heart rejoice,—

In praise poured out, in love expressed,—
Now will I bless Thee, with a voice

That shall not break this sacred rest.

Once, moved by every mortal pain,
By every pleasure quickly past,
I feared to speak in joyful strain

Of hidden life that might not last.
Now, from a well that will not fail,

In thee my deep rejoicing springs—
Now, from Thy rest "within the veil,"
My spirit looks on passing things.

Once, with Thy tired ones homeward bent,
In hope that rose their fears above,
My leaping heart could be content
To greet them with a silent love;
I too had walked with weary feet,

And heard the exulting shout too near

I too had felt the toil and heat,

The wind and storm I did not fear.

Perhaps the Heavenward look in store,

The speechless prayer for strength or rest,

Might help those needy spirits more

Than hope set forth, or joy expressed.

But I was changed, I knew not how,

By the same love that chose their ways,I might be just as weary now,

And yet rejoice to hear Thy praise.

Now would I cheer the faint in heart
With sound of joy they too shall see ;
Now would I put the fear apart,

That bids me hide Thy strength in me. What though the mortal flesh be frail, The willing spirit prone to sinkThere is a stream in Baca's vale

Whereof thy feeblest child may drink.

Some, in their sorrow, may not know
How near their feet those waters glide—
How peaceful fruits for healing grow,
And flowers for beauty by their side.
They may not see, with weeping eyes
Upon the dreary desert bent,

How glorious straight before them, lies
The Eden of their soul's content.

But O my Saviour, I can see

For them, what once for me was seen; I know, whate'er their sufferings be, The tender mercy which they mean. do not watch, with anxious care, To see the end of their distress

Thou knowest what the heart must bear, The human heart which Thou wilt bless.

And in their daily deepening need

Of heavenly love, for strength or rest, They are already blest indeed

Yea, and much more, they shall be blest.

Wrapt in the spirit of Thy praise,
As from Gerizim's height, I see
Blessing poured out on all the ways,
That prove Thy children's need of Thee.

O wondrous love, so strong to smite-
So meek the opposing will to tame !
It was Thy hand put forth in might

That led me through the flood, the flame.
When, needing strength to bear Thy rod,
By the smooth stream I found repose ;
It was Thy grace, All-seeing God,

Thy love that smote me, ere I rose.

How could I look for lengthened rest,
With Thy deep sufferings scarcely known,
Or lay for ever on Thy breast

The perfect heart which Thou wilt own? The heart, that guilty of Thy woes,

Looks only upon Thee to mourn, And feels the cross Thy love bestows,. A burden easy to be borne.

And yet that pause was not in vain—
It was a blessing meet to give
Strength, for the labour and the pain,
Whereby alone my soul might live.
How gently thence Thy mighty hand
My lingering spirit onward bare!
How precious, in a barren land,

The footprints of Thy people were !

There many hearts that knew Thy ways
The safety of my feet could see—
And there I heard the song of praise,

That Faith poured out to Heaven for me.

Oh, more than all the ease I sought,
That song the desert path could bless-
And dearer in my deepest thought,

The love that met me in distress.

Now that Thy mercies on my head,
The oil of joy for mourning pour,—
Not as I will my steps be led,

But as Thou wilt for evermore.
Henceforth, whate'er my heart's desire,
Fulfil in me Thy own design;

I need the fountain and the fire

And both, O King of Saints, are Thine.

Now that my sense of rest in Thee,
Rules over every rising fear,
Pain, Pleasure, all I feel and see,
Thy counsels to my soul endear.

Now can my girded heart rejoice,

In praise poured out, in love expressed—
I bless Thee, with a voice

Now may

That shall not break this sacred rest.

RESTING.

"The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him.”—

My heart is resting, O my God,

I will give thanks and sing;

My heart is at the secret source

Of every precious thing.

LAMENTATIONS iii. 24.

Now the frail vessel Thou hast made
No hand but Thine shall fill-

For the waters of the Earth have failed,
And I am thirsty still.

I thirst for springs of heavenly life,
And here all day they rise-
I seek the treasure of Thy love,
And close at hand it lies.

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And a new song" is in my mouth

To long-loved music set-
Glory to Thee for all the grace
I have not tasted yet.

Glory to Thee for strength withheld,
For want and weakness known—
And the fear that sends me to Thy breast
For what is most my own.

I have a heritage of joy

That yet I must not see;

But the hand that bled to make it mine

Is keeping it for me.

There is a certainty of love

That sets my heart at rest-
A calm assurance for to-day---
That to be poor is best.
A prayer reposing on His truth
Who hath made all things mine,
That draws my captive will to Him,
And makes it one with Thine.

I will give thanks for suffering now,
For want and toil and loss—

For the death that sin makes hard and slow,
Upon my Saviour's cross—

Thanks for the little spring of love

That gives me strength to say,
"If they will leave me part in Him,
Let all things pass away."

Sometimes I longed for promised bliss,
But it will not come too late—

And the songs of patient spirits rise
From the place wherein I wait;