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On Recovery from Sickness.

As fading from my dizzy view,

I sought their forms in vain, The bitterness of death I knew, And groan'd to live again.

' Twas dreadful when th' Accuser's power

Assail'd my sinking heart,

Recounting every wasted hour, And each unworthy part.

But, Jesus! in that mortal fray, Thy blessèd comfort stole, Like sunshine in a stormy day, Across my darken'd soul!

When soon or late, this feeble breath No more to Thee shall pray,

Support me through the vale of death, And in the darksome way!

When cloth'd in fleshly weeds again

I wait Thy dread decree,

Judge of the world! bethink Thee then, That Thou hast died for me.

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LONDON: R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, BREAD STREET HILL, E.C.