OUR STRONGHOLD OF HOPE. G OD liveth ever! Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never! Our God is good, in every place His love is known, His help is found; Bring good from ills that hem us round; Turn to joy our agony; Soul, remember 'mid thy pains, God liveth ever! Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never! He who can earth and heaven control, Who spreads the clouds o'er sea and land, Whose presence fills the mighty Whole, In each true heart is close at hand; Love Him, He will surely send God liveth ever! Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never ! His love shall sweep them all away. Pains of hell at look of His Change to calm content and bliss. God o'er all for ever reigns. God liveth ever! Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never ! Those whom the thoughtless world forsakes, Who stand bewildered with their woe, God gently to His bosom takes, And bids them all His fulness know; God liveth ever! Wherefore, Soul, despair thou never! Thy God will choose the way most meet God o'er all for ever reigns. ZIHN, 1682. "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee: because he trusteth in Thee." ISA. xxvi. 3. THIS is blessing, this is rest Into Thine arms, O Lord, I flee : I hide me in Thy faithful breast, I have bowed down, -- I need not flee - And now I count supremely kind ANNA L. WARING. TO MYSELF. LET nothing make thee sad or fretful, Or too regretful, Be still; What God hath ordered must be right, Why shouldst thou fill to-day with sorrow My heart? One watches all with care most true, Only be steadfast, never waver, But rest: Thou knowest what God wills must be For all His creatures, so for thee, The best. PAUL FLEMMING, 1609-1640. CONFIDO ET CONQUIESCO. Scit; potest; vult: quid est quod timeamus." ST. IGNATIUS. RET not, poor soul: while doubt and fear FRET Disturb thy breast, The pitying angels, who can see How vain thy wild regret must be, Plan not, nor scheme, — but calmly wait; While blind and erring is thy sight, Strive not, nor struggle: thy poor might The meanest thing to serve thy will; Desire not self-love is strong And yet He loves thee better still, And Trust and Rest. What dost thou fear? His wisdom reigns His power is infinite; His love Thy deepest, fondest dreams above; So Trust and Rest. ADELAIDE A. PROCTER. O ONLY THINE. LOVE, who formedst me to wear |