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How dare she stand before the haughty band
Of courtiers, and their prouder king, alone
And unsupported ? Well may she tremble now
And her full heart upheave with deep emotion.
A nation's doom hangs on th' uncertain issue
Of her petition. And as a shy gazelle,
She stands before the dense and gazing crowd
Of Persia's highest nobles'; while the king,
Like a bright sun, sits on his royal throne,
Holding the golden sceptre; but the smile
On his proud lip revives her fainting hopes,
As she draws near to touch the regal ensign,-.
Faintly her falt’ring voice breathes her peti-

tion. Sweet Esther! thou hast conquer’d, and the

despot, The proud, stern despot yields to thy gentle

pleading :Ask what thou wilt, it shall not be denied, E'en to the half of all my vast dominions.”

Sinner! thou also hast a suit to plead
Before the King of kings. A fearful doom
Hangs over thee, of awful, endless woe.
Fear not; thou hast a mighty Advocate,
Whose pure blood, sprinkled on the mercy-

seat, Pleads a full pardon; while the gracious hand That leads thee, bears a mark which tells of

sin Pardon'd and cancell’d—justice satisfied. That pierced hand can ne'er be rais'd in vain, A Father's yearning heart will not refuse His only Son, His well-beloved One !-Thy suit is heard, for Jesus must prevail.


“Having no hope, and without God in the world.”— Ephesians ii. 12.

“The whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint. From the sole of the foot even unto the head, there is no soundness in it; but wounds, and bruises, and putrefying sores.”—Isaiah i. 5. 6.

“Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no physician there?"-Jeremiah viii. 22.

Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord; though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”—Isaiah i, 18.

“Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”—Matthew xi. 28.

HOPE! there is none for me, not one bright ray
Of blessed hope to cheer my spirit's sadness;
No golden gleam of an eternal day,
A state of sinless joy and heavenly gladness !

Dark is my soul, darker than Egypt's night
Wrapt in an awful veil, a cloud of gloom;
No living beam of morn to cheer the sight,-
No land of Goshen, but a dreadful doom
Of endless torment in that gulf of pain
From whence once plunged, no soul returns


My sins like mountains rise, and weigh me down
With giant force, beneath their heavy load
Of guilt and fear; I shudder at the frown-
The withering frown, of an offended God;
Before whose glance the lightning's flash is

Before whose voice the thunders cease to roar;
Who dwells between the shining cherubim-
The heavens His glittering throne, and earth

His floor. What refuge shall I find, where shall I fly From the stern gaze of His all-searching eye?

Can the huge mountains hide me in some cave
Which, unexplored, from age to age hath stood
In gloomy solitude? or ocean’s wave
Bury me deep beneath the briny flood ?-
Vain is the fleeting hope, the rolling surge
Stops at the sandy barrier; at His word
The proud waves stay, and to their utmost

verge The firm rocks shake, and own their Maker,

God. Is there no cleansing stream, no refuge, say, To hide my soul, and wash my guilt away ?

Peace, troubled spirit-stay the flowing tears,
Calm thy deep grief, and cast away despair ;
In Gilead's land a healing balm appears,
A cleansing stream, a kind Physician there.
A Saviour's blood has flowed to make thee

whole, In willing love He bowed His head and died;

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