June 27

The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.— Ps. xxxiv, 18.

Where sad contrition harbors, there the heart

Is truly acquainted with the secret smart

Of past offenses, hates the bosom sin

The most, which most the soul took pleasure in;

No crime unsifted, no sin unpresented

Can lurk unseen, and seen, none unlamented!

The troubled soul's amazed with dire aspects

Of lesser sins committed, and detects

The wounded conscience; it cries amain

For mercy—mercy; cries, and cries again.

It sadly grieves, and soberly laments,

It yearns for grace, reforms, returns, repents.

Aye, this is incense whose accepted savor

Mounts up the heavenly throne, and findeth favor;

Aye, this it is whose valor never fails—

With God it stoutly wrestles and prevails:

Aye, this it is that pierces heaven above,

Never returning home (like Noah's dove),

But brings an olive leaf, or some increase,

That works salvation and eternal peace.

FRANCIS QUARLES.

All powerful is the penitential sigh

Of true contrition; like the placid wreaths

Of incense, wafted from the righteous shrine

Where Abel ministered, to the blest seat

Of Mercy, an accepted sacrifice,

Humiliation's conscious plaint ascends.

SAMUEL HAYES.

How blessed it is to know the character of Him with whom we have to do; pitiful, tender, full of compassion, keeping mercy, plenteous in redemption. We have no idea of His longing to bless, with Him all must be loving, because He is love.

LADY POWERSCOURT.