O holy Saviour, Friend unseen, The faint, the weak, on Thee may lean, Help me, throughout life's varying scene, By faith to cling to Thee! Blest with communion so Divine, Take what Thou wilt, shall I repine, When, as the branches to the vine, My soul may cling to Thee? Far from her home, fatigued, oppressed, Here she has found a place of rest, An exile still, yet not unblest, While she can cling to Thee! Without a murmur I dismiss My former dreams of earthly bliss, My joy, my recompense be this, Each hour to cling to Thee! What though the world deceitful prove, And earthly friends and joys remove, With patient, uncomplaining love, Still would I cling to Thee! Oft when I seem to tread alone Some barren waste with thorns o'ergrown, A voice of love, in gentlest tone, Whispers, "Still cling to Me!" Though faith and hope awhile be tried, I ask not, need not, aught beside; How safe, how calm, how satisfied, The souls that cling to Thee! They fear not Life's rough storms to brave, Since Thou art near, and strong to save; Nor shudder e'en at Death's dark wave, Because they cling to Thee! Blest is my lot, whate'er befall; What can disturb me, who appal; While, as my strength, my rock, my all, Saviour, I cling to Thee! --_Charlotte Elliot._ "BEHOLD, THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH!" I. Behold, a Royal Bridegroom Hath called me for His bride! I joyfully make ready And hasten to His side. He is a Royal Bridegroom, But I am very poor! Of low estate He chose me To show His love the more: For He hath purchased for me Such goodly, rich array,-- Oh, surely never Bridegroom Gave gifts like His away. II. When first upon the mountains, I, in the vale below, Beheld Him waiting for me, Heard His command to go, I, poorest in the valley, Oh, how could I prepare To meet His royal presence? How could I make me fair? Ah! in His love He sent me A garment clean and white: And promised broidered raiment All glorious in His sight. And then He gave me glimpses Of the jewels for my hair, And the ornament most precious For His chosen bride to wear. III. First in my tears I washed me,-- They could not make me clean: A fountain then He showed me, Strange until then unseen! So close I'd lived beside it For many weary years, Yet passing by the fountain Had bathed me in my tears. Oh, love, oh, grace, that showed it! Revealed its cleansing power! How could I choose but hasten To meet Him from that hour. IV.