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<p> ALAS! my God, that we should be <br />
  Such strangers to each other; <br />
  Oh, that as friends we might agree, <br />
  And walk and talk together!<br><br>
You know my soul does dearly love <br />
  The place of Your abode, <br />
  No music drops so sweet a sound <br />
  As those two words, &quot;my God.&quot;<br><br>
I long not for the fruit which grows <br />
  Within these gardens here; <br />
  I find no sweetness in the rose, <br />
  When Jesus is not near.<br><br>
Your gracious presence, O my Christ, <br />
  Can make a paradise; <br />
  Oh, what are all the goodly pearls <br />
  To this Pearl of great price?<br><br>
May I taste that communion, Lord, <br />
  Your people have with You; <br />
  Your Spirit daily talks with them; <br />
  Oh, may He talk with me.<br><br>
Like Enoch, let me walk with God, <br />
  And thus walk out my day, <br />
  Attended with the heavenly guards, <br />
  Upon the king's highway.<br><br>
When will You come unto me, Lord? <br />
  Oh, come, my Lord, most dear; <br />
  Come near, come nearer, nearer still; <br />
  I'm well when You are near.<br><br>
When will You come unto me, Lord? <br />
  I languish for Your sight: <br />
  Ten thousand suns, if You are strange, <br />
  Are shades instead of light.<br><br>
When will You come unto me, Lord? <br />
  For until You do appear, <br />
  I count each moment for a day, <br />
  Each minute for a year.<br><br>
Come, Lord, and never from me go; <br />
  This world's a darksome place: <br />
  I find no pleasure here below, <br />
  When You do hide Your face.<br><br>
There's no such thing as pleasure here—<br />
  My Jesus is my <em>all;</em> <br />
  As You do shine or disappear, <br />
  My pleasure rise or fall.<br><br>
Come, spread Your savor on my frame <br />
  (No sweetness is so sweet), <br />
  Until I get up to sing Your name, <br />
  Where all Your singers meet.<br><br>

To Miss W,<br />
  It is the fullness, freeness, and unchangeableness of the love of Jesus--which alone will draw the wandering heart back again. No sense of wandering will draw the soul back; no sense of backsliding will restore it. It is Jesus, Jesus only, who is <strong>the magnetic stone</strong>to draw the far-off one again to Himself and His dear embrace. It is the inflowing of His precious love which will dissolve the heart in true contrition for its wanderings. <br><br>At a distance from Him it may see its backslidings, and remain hardened—but, under His warm beams, it will feel them, and be melted in adoring wonder, because it has so much forgiven. Oh! wrestle for a fresh revelation of Jesus in your soul; and rest not again until you obtain it. However long you may have to wait for it, wait on; for to them that &quot;look for Him, He will appear&quot; unto salvation, even experimental salvation, when needed. &quot;<br><br>They shall not be ashamed that wait for me.&quot;<br><br>
To dear Miss W., affectionately, from an unworthy one, who has been ever bent to backsliding—but has often had to sing that dear wilderness song, &quot;He restores my soul.&quot; Dear Miss W. will excuse this hasty line, which comes in His warm love from His gleaner who is longing for her joy in the Lord. Jer. 31:18-22.

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