No. 40.

The Things that are God's.

St. Mark, xii. 17.

WHAT is there, Lord, which is not thine, Of all that I possess ;

What is there which indeed is mine,

But all unrighteousness?

My soul? this is that living breath,
By thine own Spirit given;
And, when my body sinks in death,
Shall live in hell or heaven.

And all that in the soul is found,
Of sense or reasoning power;
Of knowledge, memory, judgment sound,
These are thy gracious dower.

My body? this thine hand did make,

And form of senseless earth;

Ere yet of life I did partake,

Ere yet I had my birth.

And still, whate'er of strength or grace

My body did possess,

'Twas thine the wondrous whole to trace, And give or more or less.

Nor only this; whate'er of health
Each morning brings anew;
Whate'er of comfort, honour, wealth,
To thee, O Lord, is due.

And when my soul was lost in sin,
My body doomed to die;
Thou gav'st Christ, for me to win
A mansion in the sky.

For me He hung upon the tree,
That I no guilt should bear;
For me He rose, that I might be
Of joy in heaven the heir.

And what, then, are those things of mine, That Thou thine own dost call?

My soul, my heart, my goods are thine, Oh! let me give them all.

No. 41.

Watchfulness.

St. Mark, xiii. 33-37.

OH! why, around those turrets grey,
Is all so sad and strange?

The banner there of dull decay
Shows idly to the glare of day,
And tells of hapless change.

The owner of that rich demesne
To foreign lands has gone,
His country's honour to maintain,
And there upon the battle plain
Fair guerdon has He won.

Yet, ere He went, his servants all

He solemnly did charge,

To watch around that ancient hall,
And guard his goods in house and stall,

And ne'er to roam at large.

And much to them of foes He told,

And some that seemed not so;

Who, or by guile, or hazard bold,
Would try to gain that guarded hold,

And ruin work, and woe.

And much He cautioned each to wait, And watch for his return;

That should He come, or soon or late,
He still might find the guarded gate,
The watch-fire brightly burn.

And so he went; and day and night
Each duly kept his guard;

To serve their Lord from morn to night,
In rain, or snow, or sunshine bright,
They thought not duty hard.

But time went on, and many a day
He stayed, and many a year;
And absence now, and long delay,
Bred carelessness and idle play,

And quenched both love and fear.

Some few, indeed, were faithful found,
Still thinking of their Lord;

But oft within that castle's bound
Would riot loud from those resound,
Who thought not of his word.

E'en thus, O Lord, the church on earth
Thy solemn warning heard ;

That all who sought a heavenly birth,
And glorious crown of endless worth,
Should watch, and keep thy word.

Oh! let that voice be ever nigh,
My listening ear to catch;

Let each soft breeze's whispering sigh,
Each morning dawn, each star-lit sky,
Bid thy disciple watch.

No. 42.

Gethsemane.

St. Mark, xiv. 32-46.

GETHSEMANE! thine hallowed name

Falls sweetly on the ear,

Yet brings it thought of grief and shame, As some soft music near,

Soothes, whilst perchance its sweetest strain Wakes up some long-forgotten pain.

The traveller, as he sits him down
Beneath thine olive trees,

Though desert now thy garden's grown,
Yet still in fancy sees

Where once his Saviour prayed and wept,
Whilst near him his disciples slept.

Perchance, 'twas o'er yon mossy stone

The sufferer bowed his head;

Whilst in his agony, alone,

Those blood-like tears He shed;

Too weak e'en these the grief to tell

With which his bleeding heart did swell.