THE SOUL'S TRUE RESTING PLACE.

In this vain world, of all unrest and care ;
And so-called pleasure, hurry'rig here and there,
How sweet the place, where all is calm, and rest,
Tis found in Jesus, in his love, how blest,
There, there, alone, is my fair haven found,
Where Jesus is, e'en there is hallowed ground,
To rest in him, is perfect peace indeed,
Though I have nought, he doth supply my need.
For no good thing does he withhold from me,
And though my way is often dark, 'tis he
Directs my path, and bids me follow on,
Trusting his care, leaning on him alone,
Mercy, and truth, attend me all the way,
He brings me back, if from his paths I stray,
Like a lost sheep upon the mountains wild,
He goes to seek his erring wand'ring child.
By gentle means rebukes; his chast'ning rod
He ne'er withholds, for he, a faithful God
Subdues the wayward will, his loving care
Still watches o'er me; he waits to answer prayer!
And then what gratitude is felt within,
Restoring mercy, and forgiven sin,
Call forth a note of praise e'en here below
When called above in fuller strains to flow,

E. B.
Gospel Standard December 1903