"Lord! the fount is dry and failing, "And my thirst-parched infant tries. "Vainly now, mid tears and wailing, "For its draught-he faints he dies. "Pity, Lord! a mother's anguish,

"Close this pilgrimage of grief; "Let me not behold him languish, "Nor have power to yield relief. "Cruel was the hand that turned us, "Thus to wander in despair; "Cruel was the hate that spurned us, "Lord! in mercy hear my prayer! "Ope the desert's hidden water

"To these vainly-searching eyes; "Then shall Egypt's wretched daughter "Bless the aid that Heaven supplies."

FRIENDSHIP WHICH NEVER SHALL FADE. In the tempest of life when the wave and the gale, Are around and above, if thy footing should fail If thine eye should grow dim, and thy caution depart, Look aloft and be firm and be fearless of heart.

If the friend who embraced in prosperities glow,

With a smile for each joy and a tear for each wo,
Should betray thee; when sorrow like clouds are arrayed,
Look aloft to that friendship which never shall fade.
Should they who are dearest-the son of thy heart,
The wife of thy bosom, in sorrow depart,
Look aloft from the darkness and dust of the tomb,
To the soil where affection is ever in bloom.

And O! when death comes in terrors to cast,
His fears o'er the future, his pall o'er the past,
ir that moment of darkness, with hope in thy heart
And a smile in thine eye, look aloft and depart.

CHARITY.

A POOR wayfaring man of grief

Hath often crossed me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief

That I could never answer "nay,"
I had not power to ask his name,

Whither he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye,
That won my love, I know not why.
Once when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered-not a word he spake;
Just perishing for want of bread;

I gave him all; he blessed it, brake
And ate, but gave me part again—

Mine was an Angel's portion then; For while I sped with eager haste, That crust was manna to my taste.

spied him where a fountain burst, Clean from a rock-his strength was gone; The heedless water mocked his thirstHe heard it-saw it hurrying on; I ran to raise the sufferer up;

Thrice from the stream he drained my cup, Dipt, and returned it running o'er;

I drank, and never thirsted more.
Stripped, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side;

I roused his pulse-brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment-he was healed-
I had : yself a wound concealed;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

HYMN OF THE HEBREW MAID. WHEN Israel of the Lord beloved,

Out from the land of bondage came Her father's God before her moved, An awful guide in smoke and flame.

By day along the astonished lands
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
Returned the fiery pillar's glow.
There rose the choral hymn of praise,

And trump and timbrel answered keen, And Zion's daughters poured their lays, With priests' and warriors' voice between. No portents now our foes amaze,

Forsaken Israel wanders lone; Our fathers would not know thy ways, And thou has left them to their own. But present still, though now unseen, When brightly shines the prosperous day, Be thoughts of thee a cloudy screen, To temper the deceitful ray. And oh when stoops on Judah's path, In shade and storm the frequent night, Be thou long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning and a shining light!

Our harps we left by Babel's streams

The tyrant's jest, the Gentiles' scorn;
No censer round our altar beams,

And mute are timbrel, trump, and horn.
But thou hast said, "The blood of goat,
The flesh of rams, I will not prize;
A contrite heart, an humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice."

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.
WHEN marshalled on the nightly plain,
The glitt'ring host bestud the sky;
One star alone of all the train,
Can fx the sinner's wandering eye.
Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Savior speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark, The ocean yawned-and rudely blowed The wind that tossed my found'ring bark. Deep horrors then my vitals froze,

Death-struck-I ceased the tide to stem; When suddenly a star arose,

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all;

It bade my dark forebodings cease;
And through the storm, and danger's thrall,
It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moored-my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,

For ever and for evermore,

The Star-the Star of Bethlehem!

KIRKE WHITE.

THE HEAVENLY JERUSALEM.

HIGH in yonder realms of light,
Far above these lower skies,

Fair and exquisitely bright,
Heaven's unfading mansions rise;
Built of pure and massy gold,
Strong and durable are they;
Decked with gems of worth untold,
Subjected to no decay!

Glad within these blest abodes,

Dwell the raptured saints above,
Where no anxious care corrodes,
Happy in Emmanuel's love!
One, indeed, like us below,
Pilgrims in this vale of tears,
Torturing pain, and heavy wo,

Gloomy doubts. distressing fears.

These, alas! full well they knew,

Sad companions of their way; Oft on them the tempest blew, Through the long and cheerless day! Oft their vileness they deplored,

Wills perverse and hearts untrue, Grieved they could not love their Lord, Love him as they wished to do.

Oft the big unbidden tear,

Stealing down the furrowed cheek, Told, in eloquence sincere,

Tales of wo they could not speak. But these days of weeping o'er,

Past this scene of toil and pain, They shall feel distress no more, Never, never, weep again!

"Mid the chorus of the skies,

'Mid the angelic lyres above, Hark! their songs melodious rise, Songs of praise to Jesus' love! Happy spirits! ye are fled,

Where no grief can entrance find; Lulled to rest the aching head, Soothed the anguish of the mind

All is tranquil and serene,

Calm and undisturbed repose; There no cloud can intervene, There no angry tempest blows! Every tear is wiped away,

Sighs no more shall heave the breast;

Night is lost in endless day-
Sorrow in eternal rest.-RAFLES.

THE DAY OF WRATH.

THE day of wrath, that dreadful day,
When heaven and earth shall pass away,
What power shall be the sinner's stay?
Whom shall he trust that dreadful day?
When shrivelling like a parched scroll,
The flaining heavens together roll;
When, louder yet, and yet more dread,
Swells the high trump that wakes the dead.

Oh, on that day, that wrathful day,
When man to judgment wakes from clay,
Be thou, O Christ! the sinner's stay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away!
SIR WALTER SCOTT.

THE BURIAL ANTHEM.

BROTHER, thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown

Where tears are wiped from every eye,
And sorrow is unknown.

From the burthen of the flesh,

And from care and fear released, Where the wicked cease from troubling, And the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er,
And borne the heavy load,

But Christ hath taught thy languid feet
To reach his blessed abode;
Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus
Upon his Father's breast,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

Sin can never taint thee now,
Nor doubt thy faith assail,

Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ,
And the Holy Spirit fail:

And there thou'rt sure to meet the good,
Whom on earth thou lovedst best,
Where the wicked eease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest

"Earth to earth," and "dust to dust,"
The solemn priest hath said.
So we lay the turf above thee now,
And we seal thy narrow bed:
But thy spirit, brother, soars away
Among the faithful blest,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.-MILMAN

THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.

Lo! He comes, with clouds descending, Once for favored sinners slain, Thousand, thousand saints attending, Swell the triumphs of his train; Hallelujah!

Jesus now shall ever reign!

Every eye shall now behold him,
Clothed in awful majesty;

Those who set at naught and sold him,
Pierced and nailed him to the tree,
Deeply wailing,

Shall the great Messiah see!

Every island, sea, and mountain,

Heaven and earth shall flee way; All who hate him must, confounded, Hear the trump proclaim the day, "Come to judgment!

Come to Judgment! Come away."

Now, redemption, long expected,

See in solemn pomp appear! All his saints, by men rejected, Now shall meet him in the air! Hallelujah!

See the day of God appear!

Answer thine own Bride and Spirit!
Hasten, Lord, the genera! doom!
Promised glory to inherit,

Take thy pining exiles home;
All creation

Travails, groans, and bids thee come.

Yea! Amen! Let all adore thee, High on thine exalted throne; Savior! take the power and glory, Claim the kingdom for thine own! O come quickly!

Hallelujah! Come, Lord, Come!

THE HOUR OF PRAYER.
CHILD, amid the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently;
Father, by the breeze of eve,
Called thy harvest work to leave:
Pray!-ere yet the dark nours be,
Lift the hand and bend the knee.

Traveller, in the stranger's land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
Sailor, on the darkening sea,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain,
Weeping on his burial plain;
Ye that triumph, ye that siglt,
Kindred by one holy tie;

Heaven's first star alike ye see

Lift the heart and bend the knee.-HEMANT

THE NATIVITY.

WHEN Jordan hushed his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion hill;

When Bethlehem's shepherds through the night
Watched o'er their flocks by starry light;

Hark! from the midnight hills around,
A voice of more than mortal sound,

In distant hallelujahs stole,

Wild murm'ring o'er the raptured soul.
Then swilt to everv startled eye,
New story light the sky;
Heaven bursts i <zure gates to pour
Her spirits he midnight nour.

On wheels

t, on wings of flame,

The glorions bosts of Zion came;

High heaven with songs of triumph rung,
While thus they struck their harps and sung.

O Zion! lift thy raptured eye,

The long-expected hour is nigh
The joys of nature rise again,

The Prince of Salem comes to reign.

See, Mercy from ner golden urn

tours a rich stream to them that mourn;
Bebord, she binds, with tender care,
The bleeding bosom of despair.

He comes, to cheer the trembling heart,
Bids Satan and his host depart;
Again the day-star gilds the gloom,
Again the bowers of Eden bloom!

O Zion! lift thy raptured eye,
The long expected hour is nigh;
The joys of nature rise again,

The Prince of Salem comes to reign.-CAMPBELL.

GOD GLORIFIED IN ALL HIS WORKS.

THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,
And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

Th' unwearied sun, from dry to day,
Does his Creator's praise display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.
Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly, to the list'ning earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;

While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though in solemn silence all
Move round the dark terrestrial ball,
What though nor voice nor minstrel sound
Among their radiant orbs be found:

With saints and angels they rejoice,
And utter forth their glorious voice;
For ever singing as they shine,

"The hand that made us is Divine !"-ADDISON.

THE RAINBOW.

WHEN the floods of the deluge to ocean had rolled,
And the green-mantled hills reappeared;
When the valleys unfolded their blossoms of gold,
And Noah, the patriarch, came forth from his hold,
The voice of Jehovah was heard-

The voice of Jehovah brought tidings of bliss
To the world late entombed in the fearful abyss.

The smoke of thine offering hath come up on high,
Thor father of nations to be!

And now I my rainbow shall set in the sky,
When tempests are dark to thy terrified eve,
That shall bring consolation to thee-
To thousands of thousands that after thee tread
The regions of life to the realms of the dead.

"It is for a sign that I never again

With waters shall cover the earth;

And the birds in the arbors shall warble their strain, And the cattle shall browse on the nourishing plain, And give to their progeny birth;

And die as they died by the curse that I spoke, When my cov'nant of old by thy father was broke.

"And thou, Noah, thou art preserved for thy worth, To repeople the desolate world;

To the climes of the south, to the isles of the north, To the east and the west, shall thy children go forth, With the white flags of ocean unfurled—

To publish my praises throughout every land,

THE EXEMPLARY WIFE.

O BLEST is he whose arms enfold
A consort virtuous as fair!
Her price is far above the gold
That worldly spirits love to share.
On her, as on a beauteous isle,

Amid life's dark and sea,
In all his trouble, all his cou,
He rests with deep security.

Even in the night-watch, drk 2nd lone,
The distaff fills her bus hand :
Her husband in the gates is adʊWA

Among the elders of the land;
Her household all delight to share
The food and raiment she bestows-
Even she with a parent's care

Regards their weakness and their woes.

Her pitying hand supplies the poor,
The widowed one, the orphan child,
Like birds assembled round her door,、

When sweeps the winter tempest wild.
Her lips, with love and wisdom fraught,
Drop, like the honeycomb, their sweets;
The young are by her dictates taught,
The mourner her condolence meets.
Her lovely babes around her rise-
Fair scions of a holy stem!
And deeply shall her bosom prize

The blessings she receives from them. Beauty is vain as summer bloom

To which a transient fate is given; But hers awaits a lasting doom

In the eternal bowers of heaven.-KNOX.

HYMN BEFORE THE SACRAMENT.
BREAD of the world, in mercy broken!
Wine of the soul, in mercy shed!
By whom the words of life were spoken,
And in whose death our sins are dead!

Look on the heart by sorrow broken,

Look on the tears by sinners shed,

And be thy feast to us the token

That by thy grace our souls are fed!--HEBER.

HYMN OF PRAISE.

SOURCE of being, source of light,
With unfading beauties bright;
Thee, when morning greets the skies,
Blushing sweet with humid eyes;
Thee, when soft declining day
Sinks in purple waves away;
Thee, O parent, will I sing,
To thy feet my tribute bring!

Yonder azure vault on high,
Yonder blue, low, liquid sky;
Earth on its firm basis placed,
And with circling waves embraced;
All creating power confess,
All their mighty Maker bless;
Shaking nature with thy nod,
Earth and heaven confess their God.
Source of light, thou bidst the sun
On his burning axles run;
Stars kke dust around him fly,
Strew the area of the sky;
Fills the queen of solemn night
From his vase her orb of light;
Lunar lustre, thus we see,
Solar virtue shines by thee.
Father, King, whose heavenly face
Shines serene upon our race;
Mindful of thy guardian care,
Blow to punish, prone to spare:
We thy majesty adore,

We the well-known aid implore;
Not in vain thy aid we all,

Nothing want, for thou art all !—WESLEY.

GOD VISIBLE IN HIS WORKS

ABOVE-below-where'er I gaze,
Thy guiding fiuger, Lord, I view.
Traced in the midnight planets' blaze,
Or glistening in the mcing dew;
Whate'er is beautiful or fan,
Is but thine own reflection here.

I hear thee in the stormy w.,

That turns the ocean wave to foam; Nor less thy wondrous power I find,

When summer airs around me roam; The tempest and the calm declare Thyself-for thou art everywhere.

I find thee in the noon of night,

And read thy name in every star That drinks its splendor from the light

That flows from mercy's beaming car: Thy footstool, Lord, each starry gem Composes-not thy diadem.

And when the radiant orb of light

Hath tipped the mountain tops with gold, Smote with the blaze my weary sight Shrinks from the wonders I behold: That ray of glory bright and fair,

Is but thy living shadow there.
Thine is the silent noon of night,

The twilight, eve-the dewy morn;
Whate'er is beautiful and bright,

Thine hands have fashioned to adorn: Thy glory walks in every sphere, And all things whisper, "God is here!"

A DOMESTIC SCENE.

'TWAS early day-and sunlight streamed Soft through a quiet room,

That hushed, but not forsaken seemed-
Still, but with naught of gloom;
For then, secure in happy age,
Whose hope is from above,

A father communed with the page
Of heaven's recorded love.

Pure fell the beam and meekly bright,
On his gray holy hair,

And touched the book with tenderest light
As if its shrine were there;
But oh! that patriarch's aspect shone
With something lovelier far-
A radiance, all the Spirit's own,
Caught not from sun or star.

Some word of light e'en then had met
His calm benignant eye,
Some ancient promise, breathing yet
Of immortality:

Some heart's deep language when the glow
Of quenchless faith survives,
For, every feature said-"I know
That my Redeemer lives."
And silent stood his children by,
Hushing their very breath,
Before the solemn sanctity

Of thought, o'er-sweeping death:
Silent-yet did not each young breast
With love and reverence melt?
Oh! blest be those fair girls-and blest
The home where God is felt.-HEMANS.

THE SABBATH.

LORD of the sabbath and its light;
I hail thy hallowed day of rest;
It is my weary soul's delight,
The solace of my care-worn breast.
Its dewy morn-its glowing noon-
Its tranquil eve-its solemn night-
Pass sweetly; but they pass too soon,
And leave me saddened at their flight.

Yet sweetly as they glide along,

And hallowed though the calm they yield! Transporting though their rapturous song, And heavenly visions seem revealed:

My soul is desolate and drear,

My silent harp untuned remains; Unless, my Savior, thou art near, To heal my wounds and sooth my pains.

O ever, ever let me hail

Thy presence with thy day of rest: Then will thy servant never fail

To deem thy sabbaths doubly blest.-EAST

A PRAYER TO JESUS.

WHEN our heads are bowed with wo,
When our bitter tears o'erflow;
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Gracious Son of Mary hear!

Thou our throbbing flesh hast worn,
Thou our mortal griefs hast borne,
Thou hast shed the human tear;
Gracious son of Mary, hear!
When the sullen death-bell tolls
For our own departed souls;
When our final doom is near,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou hast bowed the dying head;
Thou the blood of life hast shed;
Thou hast filled a mortal bier;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

When the heart is sad within,
With the thought of all its sin;
When the spirit shrinks with fear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear!

Thou the shame, the grief, hast known,
Though the sins were not thine own,
Thou hast deigned their load to bear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear !—HEBER.

THE REST OF THE GRAVE. How still and peaceful is the grave! Where, life's vain tumults past,

The appointed house, by Heaven's decree,
Receives us all at last.

The wicked there from troubling cease,
Their passions rage no more;

And there the weary pilgrim rests
From all the toils he bore.

There rest the prisoners, now released

From slavery's sad abode :

No more they hear the oppressor's voice, Or dread the tyrant's rod.

There, servants, masters, small and great, Partake the same repose;

And there, in peace, the ashes mix

Of those who once were foes.

All, levelled by the hand of Death,
Lie sleeping in the tomb;

Till God in judgment calls them forth,
To meet their final doom.

SATURDAY NIGHT.

AGAIN the week's dull labors close;
The sons of toil from toil repose;
And fast the evening gloom descends,
While home the weary peasant wends.
This night his eyes, in slumber sweet,
Shall droop their lids; to-morrow greet
A day of calm content and rest-
To Labor's aching limbs how blest!

Now, ere I seek my peaceful bed,
And on the pillow rest my head,
Oh, come, my soul, and wide display
The mercies of the week and day!
From danger who my frame hath kept,
While waking, and what time I slept ?
Who hath my every want supplied,
And to my footsteps proved a guide?
Tis thou, my God!-to thee belong
Incense of praise, and hallowed song;
To Thee be all the glory given,
Of all my mercies under heaven.

1

From thee my daily bread and health,
Each comfort-all my spirit's wealth,
Have been derived; my sins alone,
And errings I can call my own.

Oh, when to-morrow's sun shall rise,
And light once more shall glad these eyes.
May I thy blessed Sabbath prove,

A day of holy rest and love.

May my Redeemer's praises claim

My constant thought; the Spirit's flame
Descend, my accents to inspire,
And fill my soul with rapture's fire.

And when the night of Death is come,
And I must slumber in the tomb,
Oh, then, my God, this faint heart cheer,
And far dispel the shades of fear,
And teach me, in thy strength, to tread
The path which leads me to the dead,
Assured, when life's hard toils are o'er,
Of rest with thee for evermore !-WALKER.

CHRIST A PRESENT HELP.
WHEN gathering clouds around I view,
And days are dark, and friends are few,
On Him I lean, who not in vain,
Experienced every human pain.
He sees my griefs, allays my fears,
And counts and treasures up my tears.

If aught should tempt my soul to stray
From heavenly wisdom's narrow way,
To fly the good I would pursue,
Or do the thing I would not do;
Still He, who felt temptation's power,
Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.

If wounded love my bosom swell,
Despised by those I prized too well;
He shall his pitying aid bestow,
Who felt on earth severer wo;
At once betrayed, denied, or fled,
By those who shared his daily bread.

When vexing thoughts within me rise,
And, sore dismayed, my spirit dies ;
Yet He who once vouchsafed to bear
The sickening anguish of despair,
Shall sweetly sooth, shall gently dry,
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

When, mourning, o'er some stone I bend,
Which covers all that was a friend,
And from his voice, his hand, his smile,
Divides me for a little while;
Thou Savior, markst the tears I shed,
For thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead.

And, oh, when I have safely past
Through every conflict but the last,
Still, still unchanging, watch beside
My painful bed-for thou hast died:
Then point to realms of cloudless day,
And wipe the latest tear away.-GRANT.

MARY MAGDALENE.

THERE is a tender sadness in that air,
While yet devotion lifts the soul above;
Mournful though calm, as rainbow-glories prove
The parting storm, it marks the past despair!
Heedless of gazers, once with flowing hair
She dried his tear-besprinkled feet, whose love,
Powerful alike to pardon and reprove,
Took from her aching heart its load of care,
Thenceforth nor time nor pain could e'er efface
Her Savior's pity; through all worldly scorn,
To her he had a glory and a grace,

Which made her humbly love and meekly mourn.
Till by his faithful care she reached the place-
Where his redeemed saints above all griefs are borne.
NOEL