A mother's love, how deep, how strong,
The infant's first known bliss,
The sweetest, purest, of earth's joys,
Indeed is this.

But oh, God's love for us, His own,
What man could measure this ?
'Tis His own perfect gift to us,
Of deepest bliss.

A pardon from a fellow-man,
Is very sweet indeed,
And who would not appreciate,
And for it plead ?

To free us from sin's awful curse,
The Saviour had to bleed,
And lives-the proof that we are free –
For us to plead.

Man's discipline but works constrained
Obedience to man's will;
The while his fellow-man remains
Unbroken still.

God's discipline, with peace and joy
The broken heart doth fill;
And, though in love
He chasteneth,
Doth comfort still.

Man's polishing but covers sin
When everything is done,
And leaves the great eternal work
Not yet begun.

God's polishing doth work in us
The likeness to His Son,
The Spirit's blessed workmanship
In us begun.

Man's sacrifice for fellow-man,

Gives only man's poor best,
It cannot reach the needy soul,
Nor give it rest.

The sacrifice of Thy dear Son,
For us, O God, how blest! His love,
His cross, have won for us Eternal rest.

High o'er our puny thoughts we'd set
Thy thoughts, O God, and bless
Thy holy ways, so far above
Our foolishness.

H. McD.