HE REMEMBERETH. DEAR Lord, of all the words of thine No one has brought such blessed cheer A pure heart wrung with sorrow came, "For he remembereth our frame.” Not merely that he can forgive, To fathers' yearning hearts is known; Dear Lord, who knowest all our frame, Save of the thing I longed to be! PRAYER. MRS. HELEN (FISKE) JACKSON. 559 O GOD of love, O King of peace, Remember, Lord, thy works of old, Whom shall we trust but thee, O Lord? SIR HENRY WILLIAMS BAKER. 1878. OUR PRAYERS. ART thou weary of our selfish prayers? Forever crying, "Help me, save me, Lord!" We stay fenced in by petty fears and cares, Nor hear the song outside, nor join its vast accord. And yet the truest praying is a psalm: Is not the need of other souls our need? Still are we saying, "Teach us how to pray"? 1787. THE WORTH OF PRAYER. And prayer the rising flame. It gives the burdened spirit ease, And soothes the troubled breast; Yields comfort to the mourners here, And to the weary rest. When God inclines the heart to pray, The humble suppliant cannot fail WILLIAM COX BENNETT, LL.D., is the son of a watchmaker of Greenwich, England, at which place he was born, in 1820 He has been prominent as a philanthropic citizen, and has labored for the education of the masses. He has published many volumes of prose and verse since 1843, when his first poems appeared. Among these are "Baby May, and other Poems," 1851. A SOUND of supplication Went trembling up the air; Up to the Giver of all good Arose the sound of prayer: Grant me a sense for all delight, No pleasure, Lord, can cloy; Through youth, through age, from birth to death, Oh, give me to enjoy!" Again I heard a murmur low Of prayer ascend on high; Again soft supplicating tones Thou who art thought and fate and love, Oh, give me, Lord, to know!" And yet again with humblest tones The throbbing air was stirred; Again the low, deep voice of prayer, A heart to feel with all that breathe; Then silence was in earth and heaven, With awe and mighty dread, a voice "Which choosest thou?" Then said I," Lord. "Well hast thou chosen." Yet again, "Oh, wisest they in all the earth, WILLIAM Cox BENNETT. PRAYER FOR LIGHT AND GUID ANCE. SIMON BROWNE was born about 1680, and began to preach in 1716, in the Old Jewry, London. He suffered from a singular derangement on account of having killed a highwayman in self-defence, and the loss of his wife and son, in 1723. affected him so deeply that he was incapacitated for work. He died in 1732. His hymns are generally not of a very high degree of merit. They were published in 1720 as an appendix to those of Watts. COME, Holy Spirit, heavenly Dove, Be thou my light, be thou my guide, The light of truth to me display, Conduct me safe, conduct me far Lead me to Christ, the Living Way, Lead me to holiness, the road That I must take to dwell with God; My secret sanctuary be From ills unknown. 561 Thou knowest, Lord, the hidden cross None else may see; For thou appointest every grief That chastens me! And I may plead with thee, my God, That this thy discipline of love I need not fear to tell thee all, Of conflict, longing, vague unrest, Thou sett'st the end: And thou wilt lead my weary feet Through paths of everlasting peace, Lord! dwell within my heart, and fill Its emptiness; Set thou its hope above the reach Of earthliness; Baptize its love, through suffering, Into thine own, And work in me a faith that rests On Christ alone. Pray in the darkness, if there be no light. HARTLEY COLERIDGE. ISA. xxxviii. 14. 1879. MARY KENT ADAMS STONE. WHATSOEVER. ONE day, in stress of need, I prayed, "Dear Father, thou hast bid me bring All wants to thee; so, unafraid, I ask thee for this little thing, Round which my hopes so keenly cling. And yet, remembering what thou art, So dread, so wondrous so divine, I marvel that I have the heart To tell thee of this wish of mine! "Thy heavens are strewn with worlds on worlds, Thy star-dust powders reachless space; System on system round thee whirls, Who sittest in the central place Of being while before thy face Godhood's magnificence alone! WEARINESS. "Lord, I am oppressed; undertake for me LORD, with a very tired mind I seek thy face; Thy shadowing wing alone can be My resting-place. Oh, let the everlasting arms, Around me thrown, And that its peopled myriads stand Always before thee, even as I, Sad suppliants in their misery dumb, Waiting for every hour's supply, I wonder that I dare to come! "I could not come, but for thy word, in reverent fear, That says I And bring the suit, to me so dear; Bears its own number in his sight. "The thing I ask thee for, how small, How trivial must it seem to thee! Yet, Lord, thou knowest, who knowest all, It is no little thing to me, So weak, so human as I be! Therefore I make my prayer to-day, And as a father pitieth, then, Grant me this little thing, I pray, Through the one sacred Name. I had my wish: the little thing, So needful to my heart's content, Was given to my petitioning, And comforted, I onward went Amen!" With tranquil soul, wherein were blent Trust and thanksgiving: for I know Now, as I had not known before, The whatsoever's meaning: so I cavil not nor question more! 1879. MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON. EXHORTATION TO PRAYER. WILLIAM COWPER was born at Berkhamstead, Nov. 26, 1731, studied at Westminster School, and was intended for the bar. Nervous weakness and mental alienation interfered with the performance of his duties, and he was induced to write verses as a relief. Sincere in his Christian faith, and possessed of the poetical faculty, he attained a high rank, and is by some critics considered the most important contributor His to English poetry between Pope and Wordsworth. hymns are a source of comfort to many wherever they are sung. He died April 29, 1800. WHAT various hindrances we meet In coming to a mercy-seat! Yet who, that knows the worth of prayer, Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw; Restraining prayer, we cease to fight; Have you no words? Ah! think again, Were half the breath, thus vainly spent, 1779. PRAYER. THERE is an awful quiet in the air, That praying souls are purged from mortal hue, And grow as pure as He to whom they pray. HARTLEY COLERIDGE. |