only distributed hand bills, but also personally visited every house in the village. Praying that the blessing of God may rest not only upon this cir

cuit, but throughout the length and breadth of our beloved Connexion, I am yours sincerely,

J. ROTHWELL.

Is there a God? Tell me ye woods and streams,

That bathed in many a flood of golden light,
Seem surfeited in glory; so calm and still,
While sea and sky are vieing to extol
The lingering rays of an autumnal sun.

Is there a God? Tell me ye beauteous flowers-
Children of earth, yet looking up to Heaven,
With brows uncovered, and with gentle face;
That gem this world like stars the realms
above,

And dying teach a nobler lesson far.

Is there a God? I ask the evening breeze, That passes by so softly, that it scarce Awakes earth's sleeping beauties; that stoops to kiss

The honied breath from many a ruby lip;
And scattering perfume as it rolls away,
Glides swiftly past with "healing on its wings"
To fan some fevered brow.

I watch the billows dash the iron bound coast
Like raving maniacs struggling to be free;
I see the lightning's flash, and hear the roll
Of murmuring thunders o'er the troubled
deep;

And 'midst the roar of elements, the clash
Of surges, and the roaring winds, I ask-
Is there a God?

I look above at yonder glittering spheres,
Dwelling so closely to the verge of heaven,
Like beacon lights to guide man's spirit home:
Ye sentinels that guard the gates of bliss,
Upon whose brows reflected glory falls,
That fills this world with wonder! Can ye

The breeze that gently wafts from dying lips Odours like lingering precepts; nor the wave That foaming breaks against the unyielding rock,

Or dies upon the shore.

They point to man as their interpreter ;
The chief high priest within this mighty fane:
And, 'midst a host of worshippers, he dwells,
The image of his Maker; upon whose brow
The impress of the Deity is seen;

And in whose eye the kindlings of his spirit.
I turn to him,

The "last and noblest of the works of Heaven;"

And from the deep recesses of the heart,
Like treasure hidden till the time of need,
Comes forth the calm reply, There is a God!

There is a God! a central glorious sun,
Filling creation with his gorgeous light;
The source from which a thousand orbs
drink in

The glory that's flung o'er them, reflecting

back

'Like placid lakes the brightness mirror'd there,'

To vast unnumbered worlds remoter still.

There is a God! An omnipresent power, Whose voice alone the winds and waves obey: Who rules the storm, and calms the lightning's wrath,

And lights the lamps that gild the universe;
High as the thunder-cloud the hills he rears,
And paints with rainbow hues ten thousand
flowers.

There is a God! And everything around
Bears marks of his divinity and skill;
From yonder oak that rears its lofty head-
To the wild heath upon the barren crag
That blooms unnoticed and unseen expires.
J. H.

Thou hast redeemed me from hell and the grave;

Jesus! Thy mercy I earnestly crave-
O, let me live! Let me live!

Thou cans't speak peace to my soul with a word;

O, speak it now! O, speak it now!

Thou can'st declare the lost wand'rer restored;

Here Lord, I bow; here I bow:

Ah! Do I hear Thee pronounce me forgiven? Is what I feel a sweet foretaste of heaven? Shall I no more from Thy presence be driven? Hear, then my vow; hear my vow.

Thee I avouch as my Master and King;
Thee will I serve; thee I'll obey;
To thee my off'rings I'll cheerfully bring,
And to Thee pray, to Thee pray:
For Thee the cross will I gladly sustain :
Thee will I follow, in pleasure, or pain;
Hoping the bliss of Thy presence to gain,
In endless day-endless day.

Sing! O ye saints, and ye angels above,

Praise to his name! Praise to his name! Jesus now gives me a pledge of his love; Pardon'd I am! Saved I am!

I am a child of my Father on high;

I have a mansion prepared in the sky;
The stream of my pleasures shall never be
dry;

Praise to the Lamb! Praise the Lamb!
London.

EMANUEL PEARSON.