THE SAVIOUR'S BRIDE. "WHO is this that cometh up from the wilderness, leaning upon her beloved?"-Canticles viii. 5. As longs the wandering bird to gain her nest, Sheltered and safe her wearied wing to rest; So longs the Saviour's bride her Lord to see, To know His love, and feel her liberty. "Oh! take me hence," she cries, "and let me share Thy heavenly joys, Thy radiant image bear. Alone I sit, and mourn Thy long delay, To dwell for ever at Thy sheltering side." Cease sorrowing mourner, hear the loving voice That calms thy fears, and bids thy heart rejoice. Its gentle strains shall soothe thy yearning breast, And hush thy troubled spirit into rest. "Weep not, my purchased one, a little while With patience wait, thy longing heart beguile; Am I not now preparing thee a place Meet for my bride, my blood-bought bride, to grace. While still thou wanderest through the desert wild, Lean upon me, my pure, my undefiled, Rest in that sheltering cleft, that home of love, My wounded side, thou weak and trembling dove. Dwell near my riven heart, which, rent for thee, Poured forth its living streams to set thee free Keep thy robe white, nor stain its spotless hue, Be sober, prayerful, vigilant, and true. Soon shalt thou strike on high thy golden lyre, To swell the heavenly strain thy voice conspire." "Worthy the Lamb who died to set us free, Who bought with his heart's blood our endless liberty." EVENING PRAYER. "LET my prayer be set forth before Thee as incense, and the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice."-Psalm cxli. 2. WHEN the soft zephyr whispers through the trees, And the leaves flutter in the gentle breeze, And the melodious choristers of Spring Cease their clear notes, and fold the wearied wing In quiet rest, and the dim twilight creeps With deepening shadow o'er the sky, and weeps The falling dew o'er the departing day, The closing flowers, the sun's last gilded ray; Then, Christian, in thy solitude repair To the still chamber,-'tis the hour of prayer. Now breathe the hidden feelings of thy soul, Now breathe thy griefs and cares without control Into thy gracious Saviour's tender breast And His deep love shall soothe thy heart to rest. MORNING PRAISE. WAKE, slumbering Christian, ere the first faint blush Of morning tinge the sky with crimson flush; rays, Plume thy soul's wings, and with a stedfast eye As fragrant incense to thy God and Friend, Of heavenly blessings multiplied each hour. |