Oh! how soon would our inward griefs vanish, Our souls fear no perils without, Could we hear His mild love Thus our terrors reprove, “Ye of little faith, why did ye doubt?” XL. CONVICTION OF SIN. When Peter by the miracle Knew his celestial guest, At the Redeemer’s feet he fell By sense of guilt opprest; “Depart!” he cried, subdued and awed, “I am a sinful man, O Lord!” So must the wisest, holiest, best, Their past transgressions own, And on the Saviour’s mercy rest Their hopes of heaven alone; To all applies the suppliant word, “Have mercy on a sinner, Lord!” Can vain thoughts, covetous desires, And proud presumptuous hearts, Endure the pure eye that requires Truth in the inward parts? Self-righteousness, deluding sin, Would shrink if light but streamed within. Nor deem we good deeds can atone For one—the smallest—sin; That virtues, in the balance thrown, May God’s acceptance win,— On tainted works man dare not rest, “Unprofitable” at the best. Ne’er be the impious hope allowed; No more let mortals aim From God, or from themselves, to shroud Their helplessness and shame, But at Thy feet, Lord Jesus, fall, Like Peter, and confess it all! The spotted leprosy of guilt Within we must have seen, Ere we in faith cry, “If Thou wilt, Lord! Thou canst make me clean!” Oh! let us first our frailty see Then find our cure, our all in Thee! XLI. THE SACRED GUEST. When from the branches’ leafy screen Zaccheus on his Master gazed, What must his glad surprise have been When the Lord’s eye to him was raised! Christ singled out that one frail man From all the throng that round Him pressed, And to the slighted publican These gracious words the Lord addressed. “Make haste, descend, this day will I With thee abide.” Zaccheus heard, Received his Master joyfully, And reaped the blessing of that word: “This day salvation to this home Is come,” thus Christ the blessing gave; “For lo! the Son of man is come That which was lost to seek and save!” Mortal, on earth though low-esteemed, Thou, like the publican, mayst be; The eye that on Zaccheus beamed May now be, _is_ now fixed on thee. From Him retirement is no screen, Thy insignificance no shroud; And still all cold as thou hast been To thee the Saviour speaks aloud. “Lo! at the door I stand and knock, If any open unto Me, The portals of his heart unlock, I, even I, his Guest will be.” Oh! can that sacred Guest in vain Crave entrance to a sinner’s heart; Can pride itself unmoved remain, Or madness pray Him to depart?