O, rest of rests! O, peace serene, eternal! THOU ever livest; and thou changest never; And in the _secret of thy presence_ dwelleth Fulness of joy--forever and forever. ABIDE IN ME AND I IN YOU. THE SOUL'S ANSWER. That mystic word of thine, O sovereign Lord, Is all too pure, too high, too deep for me; Weary of striving, and with longing faint, I breathe it back again in _prayer_ to thee. Abide in me, I pray, and I in thee; From this good hour, O, leave me nevermore; Then shall the discord cease, the wound be healed, The lifelong bleeding of the soul be o'er. Abide in me--o'ershadow by thy love Each half-formed purpose and dark thought of sin; Quench, e'er it rise, each selfish, low desire, And keep my soul as thine, calm and divine. As some rare perfume in a vase of clay Pervades it with a fragrance not its own, So, when thou dwellest in a mortal soul, All heaven's own sweetness seems around it thrown. The soul alone, like a neglected harp, Grows out of tune, and needs a hand divine; Dwell thou within it, tune, and touch the chords, Till every note and string shall answer thine. _Abide in me_; there have been moments pure When I have seen thy face and felt thy power; Then evil lost its grasp, and passion, hushed, Owned the divine enchantment of the hour. These were but seasons beautiful and rare; "Abide in me,"--and they shall _ever be_; Fulfil at once thy precept and my prayer-- _Come_ and _abide_ in me, and I in thee. WHEN I AWAKE I AM STILL WITH THEE. Still, still with thee, when purple morning breaketh, When the bird waketh and the shadows flee; Fairer than morning, lovelier than the daylight, Dawns the sweet consciousness, _I am with thee_! Alone with thee, amid the mystic shadows, The solemn hush of nature newly born; Alone with thee in breathless adoration, In the calm dew and freshness of the morn. As in the dawning o'er the waveless ocean The image of the morning star doth rest, So in this stillness thou beholdest only Thine image in the waters of my breast. Still, still with thee! as to each new-born morning A fresh and solemn splendor still is given, So doth this blessed consciousness, awaking, Breathe, each day, nearness unto thee and heaven. When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber, Its closing eye looks up to thee in prayer, Sweet the repose beneath thy wings o'ershading, But sweeter still to wake and find thee there. So shall it be at last, in that bright morning When the soul waketh and life's shadows flee; O, in that hour, fairer than daylight dawning, Shall rise the glorious thought, _I am with thee_! CHRIST'S VOICE IN THE SOUL.