1 SWEET is the bliss of souls serene,
When they have sworn and steadfast mean,
Counting the cost, in all to espy
Their God, in all themselves deny.

2 O could we learn that sacrifice,
What lights would all around us rise!
How would our hearts with wisdom talk,
Along life's dullest, dreariest walk!

3 We need not bid, for cloistered cell,
Our neighbor and our work farewell,
Nor strive to wind ourselves too high
For sinful man beneath the sky:

4 The trivial round, the common task,
Would furnish all we ought to ask;
Room to deny ourselves; a road
To bring us, daily, nearer God.

The Happiness of a Christian.

1 WHEN true religion gains a place,
And lives within the mind,

The sensual life subdued by grace,
And all the soul refined,

2 The desert blooms in living green,
Where thorns and briers grew;
The barren waste is fruitful seen,
And all the prospect new.

3 The storms of rugged winter cease, The frozen flowers revive;

Spring blooms without, within is peace,— All nature seems alive.

4 O happy Christian, richly blessed!
What floods of pleasure roll!

By God and man he stands confessed,
In dignity of soul.

5 Substantial, pure, his every joy:
His Maker is his friend;
The noblest business his employ,
And happiness his end.

C. M.

417.

DODDRIDGE.

"He that hath the Son hath life."

1 O HAPPY Christian, who can trust
"The Son of God is mine!"
Happy, though humbled in the dust,
Rich in this gift divine.

2 He lives the life of heaven below,
And shall for ever live;

Eternal streams from Christ shall flow,
And endless vigor give.

3 That life we ask with bended knee,
Nor will the Lord deny;
Nor will celestial mercy see
Its humble suppliants die.

That life obtained, for praise alone
We wish continued breath;

And, taught by blest experience, own
That praise can live in death.

C. M.

418.

DODDRIDGE.

Zeal and Vigor in the Christian Race.

1 AWAKE, my soul! stretch every nerve,
And press with vigor on:

A heavenly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.

2 A cloud of witnesses around
Hold thee in full survey:
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.

3 'T is God's all-animating voice
That calls thee from on high;
'T is his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye;-

4 That prize, with peerless glories bright,
Which shall new lustre boast,

When victors' wreaths and monarchs' gems Shall blend in common dust.

Christian Activity and Watchfulness.

YE servants of the Lord,
Each in his office wait,
Observant of his heavenly word,
And watchful at his gate.

2 Let all your lamps be bright,
And trim the golden flame:
Gird up your loins, as in his sight,
For awful is his name.

3

Watch! 't is your Lord's command; And while we speak, he 's near: Mark the first signal of his hand, And ready all appear.

4 O happy servant he,

In such a posture found!

He shall his Lord with rapture see,
And be with honor crowned.

1 AWAY, ye ceaseless doubts and fears,
That weaken and enthrall;

Wipe off, my soul, thy faithless tears,
And rise at wisdom's call.

2 Awake, my soul, to duty wake; Go pay the debt thou ow'st;

Go forward, and the night shall break Around thee as thou go'st.

3 Swift fly the hours, and brief the time For action or repose;

4

Fast flits this scene of woe and crime, And soon the whole shall close.

The evening shadows deeper fall,

The daylight dies away:

Wake, slumberer, at the Master's call, And work while it is day.

C. M.

421.

LONDON INQ.

No Act without Influence.

1 SCORN not the slightest word or deed,
Nor deem it void of power;

There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed,
Waiting its natal hour.

2 A whispered word may touch the heart,
And call it back to life;

A look of love bid sin depart,
And still unholy strife.

3 No act falls fruitless; none can tell
How vast its power may be;

Nor what results enfolded dwell
Within it, silently.

4 Work, and despair not: bring thy mite,
Nor care how small it be;

God is with all that serve the right,
The holy, true, and free.

8 & 7s. M.

422.

WEST BOSTON COL.

Be thou ready.

1 Be thou ready, fellow-mortal,
In thy pilgrimage of life,
Ever ready to uphold thee

In the toil and in the strife.
Let no hope, however pleasant,

Lure thy footsteps from the right;
Nor the sunshine leave thee straying
In the sudden gloom of night.