His eye can never slumber, He marks thy cruel foes; Observes their strength, their number, And all thy weakness knows. Though heavy clouds of sorrow Make dark thy path to-day, There may shine forth to-morrow Once more a cheering ray. Doubts, griefs, and foes assailing, Conceal heaven’s fair abode; Yet now faith’s power prevailing Should stay thy mind on God. [Illustration] Thursday Morning. “He that keepeth his mouth, keepeth his life.” --PROV. xiii. 3. Guard well thy lips; none, none can know What evils from the tongue may flow; What guilt, what grief may be incurred By one incautious, hasty word. Be “slow to speak;” look well within, To check what there may lead to sin; And pray unceasingly for aid, Lest unawares, thou be betrayed. “Condemn not, judge not,”--not to man Is given his brother’s faults to scan; One task is thine, and one alone,-- To search out and subdue thine own. Indulge no murmurings; oh, restrain Those lips so ready to complain! And, if they can be numbered, count Of one day’s mercies the amount. Shun vain discussions, trifling themes; Dwell not on earthly hopes or schemes; Let words of wisdom, meekness, love, Thy heart’s true renovation prove. Set God before thee; every word Thy lips pronounce by him is heard; Oh, could’st thou realise this thought, What care, what caution would be taught! Think on thy parting hour: ere long Th’ approach of death may chain thy tongue, And powerless all attempts be found, To articulate one meaning sound. “The time is short”--this day may be The very last assigned to thee: So speak that, should’st thou ne’er speak more, Thou may’st not this day’s words deplore. Thursday Evening. “In everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” --PHILIP. iv. 6, 7. My God! is any hour so sweet, From blush of morn to evening-star, As that which calls me to thy feet-- The hour of prayer? Blest be that tranquil hour of morn, And blest that hour of solemn eve, When on the wings of prayer upborne, The world I leave. For then a day-spring shines on me, Brighter than morn’s ethereal glow; And richer dews descend from thee Than earth can know. Then is my strength by thee renewed; Then are my sins by thee forgiven; Then dost thou cheer my solitude With hopes of heaven. Words cannot tell what blest relief Here for my every want I find; What strength for warfare, balm for grief; What peace of mind.