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The free salvation of thy Son

The crown a dying Saviour won;
But vain e'en faith, as viewed by thee,
That yields not fruit of charity!

Father of love! this gift is thine;
Its deep exhaustless fountain thou!
Lo! at thy mercy-seat we bow—
With conscious need thy grace implore;
Give faith, give hope-yea, give us more
The bond of all that leads to thee,
Heaven's imaged virtue—charity.



YOU ask me how the Christian stands
Unharmed by sin and shame:

And how alone 'mid faithless hands

Maintain a virtuous name?

Then tell me how yon towering oak
Endures each angry storm

And still uninjured from the stroke
Uprears its leafy form?

High as beneath the eye of heaven

Its lofty branches rise,

So far, by earthly power unriven,

Its root extended lies.

Thus while the Christian's course is traced

Through higher paths ascending,

The more his spirit sinks abased,

Before his Saviour bending.



E saw thee not when thou did'st tread,
O Saviour, this our sinful earth,
Nor heard thy voice restore the dead,
And wake them to a second birth;
But we believe that thou didst come,
And quit for us thy glorious home.

We were not with the faithful few

Who stood thy bitter cross around,
Nor heard the prayer for those who slew,
Nor felt that earthquake rock the ground:
We saw no spear-wound pierce thy side;
Yet we believe that thou hast died.

No angel's message met our ear

On that first glorious Easter-day:
"The Lord is risen, he is not here;
Come see the place where Jesus lay!"
But we believe that thou did'st quell
The banded powers of death and hell.
We saw thee not return on high;
And now, our longing sight to bless,
No ray of glory from the sky

Shines down upon our wilderness;
But we believe that thou art there,
And seek the Lord in praise and power.



"And touched the border of his garment."-LUKE viii. 44.

AITH, trusting faith, entire and pure and true, Urged thee to nearer draw, thou blessed one, And touch his garment hem, and healing drew From love divine, that shone that deed upon;

All, all was known; and now thy sorrows cease,
And the deliverer bids thee, "Go in peace!"

And we, like her, have faith, without a cloud
Of doubt to chill our aspirations high;
Before his footstool have our spirits bowed,
Resting alone on Him who came to die.
But he is risen." His presence may we trace
In this his Church on earth, the Spirit's dwelling-place.

In rite, in ordinance, in praise, in prayer,
Unto “*his garment's border” we draw near;
In each appointed way we yet may share
The peace, the promise, to the heart how dear!
His love is ever there to soothe our woe,

And in this blessed fold our souls true peace shall know.



YEACE to the just man's memory-let it grow Green with years, and blossom through the flight Of ages; let the mimic canvas show His calm benevolent features; let the light Stream on his deeds of love, that shunned the sight Of all but heaven, and, in the book of fame, The glorious record of his virtues write,

And hold it up to man, and bid him claim

A palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame.




E left his Christian friends and native strand,
By pity for benighted men constrained;
His heart was fraught with charity unfeigned;
His life was strict, his manners meek and bland;
Long dwelt he lonely in a heathen land,

In want and weariness-yet ne'er complained!
But laboured that the lost sheep might be gained,
Not seeking recompense from human hand.
The credit of the arduous works he wrought
Was reaped by other men who came behind;
The world gave him no honour-none he sought,
But cherished Christ's example in his mind;

To one great aim his heart and hopes were given-
To serve his God, and gather souls to heaven.




MATT. iii.

OT clothed in purple or fine linen—stood
The Wilderness Apostle! He was found
O'ercanopied by wild rocks fringed with wood,

Where nature's sternest scenery darkly frowned;
There stood the Seer, his loins begirt around,
With out-stretched hand, bare brow, and vocal eye,
His voice, with sad solemnity of sound,

More thrilling than the eagle's startling cry,

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Repent! repent!" exclaimed, “Christ's kingdom draweth





H, blessed beyond all daughters af the earth!
What were the Orient's throne to that low seat
Where thy hushed spirit drew celestial birth,
Mary! meek listener at the Saviour's feet
No feverish cares to that divine retreat
Thy woman's heart of silent worship brought,
But a fresh childhood, heavenly truth to meet

With love, and wonder, and submissive thought.
Oh, for the holy quiet of thy breast,

Midst the world's eager tones and footsteps flying,
Thou, whose calm soul was like a well-spring, lying
So deep and still in its transparent rest,
That e'en when noontide burns upon the hills,
Some one bright solemn star all its lone mirror fills.



HALL we be left forgotten in the dust,
When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive?
Shall Nature's voice, to Man alone unjust,
Bid him, though doomed to perish, hope to live?
Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive

With disappointment, penury, and pain?

No; Heaven's immortal springs shall yet arrive;
And man's majestic beauty bloom again,

Bright through the eternal year of Love's triumphant reign



HIS spirit shall return to Him

That gave its heavenly spark;

Yet think not, sun, it shall be dim

When thou thyself art dark!

No! it shall live again, and shine

In bliss unknown to beams of thine
By Him recalled to breath,

Who captive led captivity,-
Who robbed the grave of victory,
And took the sting from death.


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