The little hills lift up their voice,

And shout that Death is dead.

Then wake, glad heart! awake! awake!
And seek thy risen Lord,
Joy in his resurrection take,

And comfort in His word;

And let thy life, through all its ways,
One long thanksgiving be,
Its theme of joy, its song of praise,
Christ died, and rose for me."

IN THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION.

By Dr CHR. WORDSWORTH, Bishop of Lincoln, died 1885. From his The Holy Year; or, Hymns for Sundays and Holydays, &c., 3d ed., London, 1863, p. 105.

N Thy glorious Resurrection,

IN

Lord, we see a world's erection :
Man in Thee is glorified;

Bliss for which the Patriarchs panted,

Joys by ancient sages chanted,

Now in Thee are verified.

Oracles of former ages,

Veiled in dim prophetic pages,

Now lie open to the sight;

IN THY GLORIOUS RESURRECTION.

Now the Types, which glimmered darkling
In the twilight gloom, are sparkling

In the blaze of noonday light.

Isaac from the wood is risen ;

Joseph issues from the prison ;

See the Paschal Lamb which saves.

Israel through the sea is landed ;
Pharaoh and his hosts are stranded,
And o'erwhelmed in the waves.

See the cloudy Pillar leading,
Rock refreshing, Manna feeding;
Joshua fights, and Moses prays:
See the lifted Wave-sheaf, cheering
Pledge of Harvest-fruits appearing,
Joyful dawn of happy days.

Samson see at night uptearing
Gaza's brazen gates, and bearing
To the top of Hebron's hill;
Jonah comes from stormy surges,
From his three days' grave emerges,
Bids beware of coming ill.

Thus Thy Resurrection's glory
Sheds a light on ancient story;
And it casts a forward ray,
Beacon-light of solemn warning,

297

To the dawn of that great morning Ushering in the Judgment-Day.

Ever since Thy death and rising
Thou the nations art baptizing
In Thy death's similitude;
Dead to sin, and ever dying,
And our members mortifying,

May we walk with life renewed!

Forth, from Thy first Easter going, Sundays are for ever flowing

Onward to a boundless sea; Lord, may they for Thee prepare us, On a holy river bear us

To a calm eternity!

Glory be to God the Father,
And to Him who all does gather

In Himself, the Eternal Son,
And the dead to life upraises;
And to Holy Ghost be praises:
Glory to the Three in One.

SING ALOUD, CHILDREN!

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SING ALOUD, CHILDREN!

An Easter hymn for children, by the Rev. Dr. A. R. THOMPSON, New York, 1865 Contributed.

SING

ING aloud, children! sing to the glorious King Of Redemption, who sits on the throne; For the seraphim high veil their faces, and cry, And the angels are praising the Son.

With His raiment blood-dyed, and with wounds in His side,

He returns like a chief from the war,

Where His champion blow hath laid death and hell low,

And hath driven destruction afar.

Not a helper stood by when the foemen drew nigh,
And arrayed their leagued hosts for the fight;
But He met them alone, and the victory won
By His own irresistible might.

Yes! the triumph He won! Give the Crucified Son Hallelujahs of praise ever new;

Hail Him, children, and say, Hallelujah! to-day; For the Saviour is risen for

you.

WHY SHOULD THESE EYES BE TEARFUL?

"The Victory of Faith." 1 Cor. xv. 57. By Dr. RAY PALMER. From his Hymns of my Holy Hours, New York, 1867. Written 1867.

WHY should these eyes be tearful

For years too swiftly fled?

And why these feet be fearful
The onward path to tread?
Why should a chill come o'er me
At thoughts of death as near?
Or when I see before me
The silent gates appear?

Behold my Saviour dying!

I hear His parting breath;
Entombed I see Him lying,
A captive held of death;
Yet peacefully He sleepeth,
No foe disturbs Him now,
And love divine still keepeth
Its impress on His brow.

But lo! the seal is broken!
Rolled back the mighty stone,

In vain was set the token

That friend and foe should own.

The weeping Mary bending

Sees not her Saviour there;