3 And one repentant hour of tears, Of sweet communion and of prayer, Is worth a thousand, thousand years Where pleasure's thoughtless children are! And O, if ever man below Draws nearer to the eternal throne, 'Tis when his soul, subdued by woe, Seeks refuge with its God above! 967. L. M. Sir J. E. Smith. "It is I, be not afraid." 1 When Power Divine, in mortal form, Hushed with a word the raging storm, In soothing accents Jesus said, "Lo, it is I!--be not afraid." 2 So, when in silence nature sleeps, And his lone watch the mourner keeps, One thought, shall every pang remove-- Trust, feeble man, thy Maker's love. 3 Blessed be the voice that breathes from heaven, To every heart in sunder riven, When love, and joy, and hope are fled, "Lo it is I!--be not afraid." 968. L. M. Bowring. Joy after Sorrow. 1 As, when the deluge-waves were gone, Hills, plains, and vales in freshness burst, And nature's earliest rainbow shone On scenes more lovely than the first, 2 Loosed from the ark, a heavenly dove, The promise-branch of olive bore,-- Pledge of returning peace and love That beamed more brightly than before:-- 3 So when affliction's waters glide From the enfranchised soul away, More peaceful, pure, and sanctified, The soul emerges into day. 4 And then, as with the olive bough The heavenly dove of old drew near, Some gentle words of truth will flow, In holy music on the ear. 5 O'er all the transient things of time, The oblivious foot of years hath trod; But all that's sacred and sublime Stands steadfast as the truth of God. 969. 7s. M. Bowring. Pious Worship. 1 In thy courts let peace be found, Be thy temple full of love; There we tread on holy ground, All serene, around, above. 2 While the knee in prayer is bent, While with praise the heart o'erflows, Tranquillize the turbulent! Give the weary one repose! 3 Be the place for worship meet, Meet the worship for the place; Contemplation's best retreat, Shrine of guilelessness and grace! 4 As an infant knows its home, Lord! may we thy temples know; Thither for instruction come-- Thence by thee instructed go. 970. L. M. Cunningham. An Ancient Church. 1 Long be our fathers' temple ours, Far hence the time in which it falls; A thousand spirits watch its bowers, A cloud of angels guard its walls. 2 And be their shield by us possessed; Lord, rear around the blest abode, The buttress of a holy breast, The rampart of a present God. 971. C. M. Anonymous. The Widow's Prayer.