THE WORLD. 611 Uphold us so in face of death, What time soe'er it be, That we may meet it with strong heart, And may die peacefully. The true and perfect gentleness We find in thee alone; Our hope is in none else but thee; Faith holds thy promise fast; Be pleased, Lord, to strengthen us, Whom thou redeemed hast, To bear all troubles patiently, And overcome at last. Children of Eve, and heirs of ill, To thee thy banished cry; We take the sinners' place, and plead: Look, thou, our Daysman and High Priest, Make us to see God's face in peace Through thee, our Advocate ; Lord Jesus Christ of holy souls, The Bridegroom sweet and true, JOHN CALVIN, 1560. Translated by THE WORLD. "And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment."- JOHN xvi. 8. THE world is wise, for the world is old; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, Why is it? why is it? Oh, answer me! The world is kind if we ask not too much; It is sweet to the taste, and smooth to the touch; Yet the world is not happy, as the world might be, Why is it? why is it? Oh, answer me! The world is old! Its air grows dull and cold; Upon its aged face The wrinkles come apace; Its youth and joy are gone. Evil is round! Our cottage will be lone HORATIUS BONAR, D. D. IN TEMPTATION. JESU, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life be past; Safe into the haven guide; Oh, receive my soul at last! Other refuge have I none; Hangs my helpless soul on thee; Leave, ah, leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me! All my trust on thee is stayed, All my help from thee I bring; Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing! Wilt thou not regard my call? Wilt thou not accept my prayer? Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall! Lo! on thee I cast my care! Reach me out thy gracious hand! While I of thy strength receive, Hoping against hope I stand, Dying, and behold I live! Thou, O Christ, art all I want; More than all in thee I find: Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, Heal the sick, and lead the blind! Just and holy is thy name; I am all unrighteousness; False and full of sin I am, Thou art full of truth and grace. O MASTER, let me walk with thee O Master, let me walk with thee Teach me thy patience; still with thee In work that keeps faith sweet and strong, 1879. JESUS, JESUS, VISIT ME! The REV. ROBINSON POTTER DUNN was Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature in Brown University. He was born in 1825, and died in 1867. JESUS, Jesus, visit me! How my soul longs after thee! Lord, my longings never cease, A HYMN TO CHRIST. Mean the joys of earth appear, Thou alone, my gracious Lord, Come, inhabit then my heart, Patiently I wait thy day; ANGELUS SILESIUS, 1660. Translated by HYMN TO JESUS. ALEXANDRE RODOLPHE VINET, a celebrated French theologian, was born at Ouchy, canton Vaud, Switzerland, June 17, 177, and died at Clarens, May 10, 1847. He was a member of the Free Church, and in 1837 was made professor at the seminary at Lausanne. The REV. HENRY DOWNTON, an English clergyman, was born in 1818, and graduated at Cambridge. For a time he was British chaplain at Geneva. His hymns appeared in Arthur Tozer Russell's "Psalms and Hymns" (1857), but the following is of a later date. THOU, of earth desired, adored, Long have I my feeble sight Strained, and nothing met my view; Say, my soul, but now forlorn, Whence is come this calm to thee? How so clearly dost thou see? Greater than all names that are, God from sinners. Jesus came! To my tongue that name how dear, Melting hardness, calming fear; Name to make the rebel mourn, And remorse to sorrow turn! Heart Divine! my comfort be; Be my refuge in the strife; From the tempest shelter me; 613 Be at death my better life! Translated from the French of VINET A HYMN TO CHRIST, AT THE AUTHOR'S LAST GOING INTO GERMANY. JOHN DONNE was born of Roman Catholic parentage, in London, in 1573. He took orders in the Established Church, and became a preacher of note. He is now remembered as a poet of strange conceits, of the class called, without exact reason, "Metaphysical "poets. He died March 31, 1631. IN what torn ship soever I embark, eyes, Which, though they turn away sometimes, They never will despise. I sacrifice this island unto thee, me, Put thou thy blood betwixt my sins and thee. Where none but thee, the eternal root Nor thou, nor thy religion, dost control thou Art jealous, Lord. so I am jealous now. Oн, happy day, that fixed my choice Oh, happy bond, that seals my vows 'Tis done, the great transaction 's done; Charmed to confess the voice divine. Hast thou a lamb in all thy flock, I would disdain to feed? And make thy glory known? Would not my heart pour forth its blood And challenge the cold hand of death Thou know'st I love thee, dearest Lord; Far from the sphere of mortal joys, PHILIP DODDRIDGE. PRAISE TO JESUS. As with gladness men of old As with joyful steps they sped As they offered gifts most rare Pure, and free from sin's alloy, Holy Jesus! every day TO THE NAME ABOVE EVERY NAME. FAITH AND COMMUNION. JAMES GEORGE DECK has written a number of hymns that are in the collection of the Plymouth Brethren, of which body Mr. Deck is a minister. He was once an officer in the English army in India, but later lived in New Zealand, where he went in 1852. WHEN first o'erwhelmed with sin and shame, My sin is gone, my fears are o'er, Before his face my priest appears; By faith that voice I also hear; Here I can rest without a fear: For this has made and keeps me clean; JAMES GEORGE Deck. TO THE NAME ABOVE EVERY NAME. I SING the name which none can say The heirs elect of love; whose names belong All ye wise souls, who in the wealthy breast Of this unbounded name build your warm nest. Awake, my glory, soul, if such thou be, And that fair word at all refer to thee, Awake and sing, And be all wing; 615 Bring hither thy whole self; and let me see What of thy parent heaven yet speaks in thee. Oh, thou art poor Of noble powers, I see, And full of nothing else but empty me; We must have store. Go, soul, out of thyself, and seek for more; Go and request Great Nature for the key of her huge chest Of nimble art, and traverse round To warn each several kind And shape of sweetness, be they such Or answer artful touch, That they convene and come away To wait at the love-crowned doors of that |