he green blades, how thick they rise,
And with fresh verdure bless our eyes!

4 In secret foldings they contain
Unnumbered ears of golden grain;
And heaven shall pour its beams around,
Till the ripe harvest load the ground.

5 Then shall the trembling mourner come,
And bind his sheaves, and bear them home,
The voice long broke with sighs shall sing,
Till heaven with hallelujahs ring.

329. L. M. N. Y. Coll.

Affliction, God's Angel.

1 Affliction's faded form draws nigh,
With wrinkled brow and downcast eye;
With sackcloth on her bosom spread,
And ashes scattered o'er her head.

2 But deem her not a child of earth;
From heaven she draws her sacred birth;
Beside the throne of God she stands
To execute his kind commands.

3 The messenger of love, she flies
To train us for our sphere, the skies;
And onward as we move, the way
Becomes more smooth, more bright the day.

4 Her weeds to robes of glory turn,
Her looks with kindling radiance burn;
And from her lips these accents steal,--
"God smites to bless, he wounds to heal!"

330. 10s. M. *Mrs. Howitt.

In Affliction.

1 Thou that art strong to comfort, look on me!
I sit in darkness and behold no light;
Over my soul the waves of agony
Have gone, and left me in a rayless night.

2 A bruised and broken reed sustain! sustain!
Divinest Comforter, to Thee I fly,
To whom no soul hath ever fled in vain;
Support me with thy love, or else I die.

3 Father, what'er I had, it all was thine;
A God of mercy Thou hast ever been;
O, help me what I most loved to resign,
And if I murmur, count it not for sin.

4 My soul is strengthened now, and it shall bear
All that remains, whatever it may be;
And from the very depths of my despair
I will look up, O God, and trust in Thee!

331. C. M. *Barton.

At Evening There Shall Be Light.

1 Our pathway oft is wet with tears,
Our sky with clouds o'ercast,
And worldly cares and worldly fears
Go with us to the last;--
Not to the last! God's word hath said,
Could we but read aright:
O pilgrim! lift in hope t