My spirit takes another tone,

And sighs that it is all alone.

The autumn leaf is sear and dead,
It floats upon the water's bed;

I would not be a leaf to die,

Without recording sorrow's sigh.

The woods and winds, with sudden wail,

Tell all the same unvaried tale;

I've none to smile when I am free,

And, when I sigh, to sigh with me.

Yet in my dreams a form I view,
That thinks on me, and loves me too;
I start, and when the vision's flown,

I weep that I am all alone.

REMONSTRANCE.

[Conder.

BUT art thou thus indeed alone,

Quite unbefriended-all unknown?

And hast thou then His love forgot,

Who formed thy frame, and fixed thy lot?

Who laid his Son within the grave,

Thy soul from endless death to save :

Who gave his Spirit to console,

And make thy wounded bosom whole?

Is not his voice in evening's gale?
Beams not with him the star so pale?

Is there a leaf can fade or die,

Unnoticed by his watchful eye?

Each fluttering hope, each anxious fear,

Each lonely sigh, each silent tear,

To thine Almighty Friend is known,

And sayest thou, thou art all alone?

FERVENT VOWS AND PETITIONS.

[Moravian Hymn.

THEE will I love, my strength and tower,

Thee will I love, my joy and crown; Thee will I love with all my power,

In all my works, and Thee alone!

Thee will I love, till that pure fire
Fill my whole soul with chaste desire.

In darkness willingly I stray'd;

I sought Thee, yet from Thee I roved: For wide my wandering thoughts were spread,

Thy creatures more than Thee I loved; And now, if more at length I see,

'Tis through thy light, and comes from Thee.

I thank Thee, uncreated Sun,

That thy bright beams on me have shin'd

I thank Thee, who hast overthrown

My foes, and healed my wounde d mind;

I thank Thee, whose enlivening voice
Bids my freed heart in Thee rejoice.

Give to my eyes refreshing tears;

Give to my heart chaste, hallow'd fires : Give to my soul, with filial fears,

The love that all heav'n's host inspires

That all my powers, with all their might, In thy sole glory may unite.

Thee will I love, my Joy, my Crown!
Thee will I love, my Lord, my God!
Thee will I love, though all may frown,

And thorns and briars perplex my road: Yea, when my flesh and heart decay,

Thee shall I love in endless day.

THE POOR MAN'S PRAYER.

As much have I of worldly good

As e'er my master had,

I diet on as dainty food,

And am as richly clad,

[J. Conder.

Though plain my garb, though scant my board,

As Mary's Son and Nature's Lord.

The manger was his infant bed,

His home the mountain-cave;

He had not where to lay his head,
He borrowed e'en his grave;
Earth yielded him no resting spot,

Her Maker, but she knew him not.

As much the world's good-will I share,

Its favors and applause,

As He whose blessed name I bear,

Hated without a cause;