He is gone; but not in vain,—­
  Wait until he comes again: 
  He is risen, he is not here;
  Far above this earthly sphere: 
  Evermore in heart and mind,
  Where our peace in him we find,
  To our own eternal Friend,
  Thitherward let us ascend.

ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY.

* * * * *

WRESTLING JACOB.

  FIRST PART.

  Come, O thou Traveller unknown,
    Whom still I hold, but cannot see;
  My company before is gone,
    And I am left alone with thee;
  With thee all night I mean to stay,
  And wrestle till the break of day.

  I need not tell thee who I am;
    My sin and misery declare;
  Thyself hast called me by my name;
    Look on thy hands, and read it there;
  But who, I ask thee, who art thou? 
  Tell me thy name, and tell me now.

  In vain thou strugglest to get free;
    I never will unloose my hold: 
  Art thou the Man that died for me? 
    The secret of thy love unfold;
  Wrestling, I will not let thee go
  Till I thy name, thy nature know.

  Wilt thou not yet to me reveal
    Thy new, unutterable name? 
  Tell me, I still beseech thee, tell;
    To know it now resolved I am;
  Wrestling, I will not let thee go
  Till I thy name, thy nature know.

  What though my shrinking flesh complain
    And murmur to contend so long? 
  I rise superior to my pain;
    When I am weak, then am I strong! 
  And when my all of strength shall fail,
  I shall with the God-man prevail.

  SECOND PART.

  Yield to me now, for I am weak,
    But confident in self-despair;
  Speak to my heart, in blessings speak;
    Be conquered by my instant prayer;
  Speak, or thou never hence shalt move,
  And tell me if thy name be Love.

  ’T is Love! ’t is Love!  Thou diedst for me;
    I hear thy whisper in my heart;
  The morning breaks, the shadows flee;
    Pure, universal Love thou art;
  To me, to all, thy bowels move;
  Thy nature and thy name is Love.

  My prayer hath power with God; the grace
    Unspeakable I now receive;
  Through faith I see thee face to face;
    I see thee face to face and live! 
  In vain I have not wept and strove;
  Thy nature and thy name is Love.

  I know thee, Saviour, who thou art,
    Jesus, the feeble sinner’s friend;
  Nor wilt thou with the night depart,
    But stay and love me to the end;
  Thy mercies never shall remove;
  Thy nature and thy name is Love.

  The Sun of Righteousness on me
    Hath risen, with healing in his wings;
  Withered my nature’s strength; from thee
    My soul its life and succor brings;
  My help is all laid up above;
  Thy nature and thy name is Love.

  Contented now upon my thigh
    I halt till life’s short journey end;
  All helplessness, all weakness, I
    On thee alone for strength depend;
  Nor have I power from thee to move;
  Thy nature and thy name is Love.