HE DIED FOR ME.

After Dr Bethune's death the following beautiful hymn, which was evidently written only the day previous, was found in his portfolio. Its devout simplicity and exquisite tenderness give it a fitting place beside Toplady's “Rock of Ages" and Charles Wesley's "Jesus, lover of my soul."

WHEN the time seems short, and death is near,
And I am pressed by doubt and fear,
And sins, an overflowing tide,
Assail my peace on every side,
This thought my refuge still shall be,
I know my Saviour died for me.
His name is Jesus, and he died
For guilty sinners crucified;
Content to die, that he might win
Their ransom from the death of sin.
No sinner worse than I can be,
Therefore I know he died for me.

If grace were bought, I could not buy;
If grace were coined, no wealth have I;
By grace alone I draw my breath,
Held up from everlasting death.
Yet since I know his grace is free,
I know the Saviour died for me.

I read God's holy word, and find

Great truths, which far transcend my mind;
And little do I know beside,

Of thought so high and deep and wide.
This is my best theology,

I know the Saviour died for me.

My faith is weak, but 't is thy gift;
Thou canst my helpless soul uplift,
And say, "Thy bonds of death are riven,
Thy sins by me are all forgiven,
And thou shalt live, from guilt set free;
For I, thy Saviour, died for thee."

GEORGE WASHINGTON BETHUNE, D D.

LOOKING UPON THE CROSS.

LORD JESU, when we stand afar

And gaze upon thy holy cross, In love of thee and scorn of self, Oh, may we count the world as loss! When we behold thy bleeding wounds,

And the rough way that thou hast trod, Make us to hate the load of sin

That lay so heavy on our God.

O holy Lord! uplifted high

With outstretched arms, in mortal woe, Embracing in thy wondrous love

The sinful world that lies below!

Give us an ever-living faith
To gaze beyond the things we see;
And in the mystery of thy death
Draw us and all men unto thee.
WILLIAM WALSHAM How.

1854

LOOKING AT THE CROSS.

IN evil long I took delight,

Unawed by shame or fear, Till a new object struck my sight, And stopped my wild career. I saw one hanging on a tree, In agonies and blood, Who fixed his languid eyes on me, As near his cross I stood.

Sure, never till my latest breath

Can I forget that look;

It seemed to charge me with his death,
Though not a word he spoke.
My conscience felt and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;

I saw my sins his blood had spilt,
And helped to nail him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did:

But now my tears are vain ; Where shall my trembling soul be hid? For I the Lord have slain.

A second look he gave, which said,
"I freely all forgive;

This blood is for thy ransom paid,
I die that thou mayst live."

Thus while his death my sin displays

In all its blackest hue; Such is the mystery of grace,

It seals my pardon too.

With pleasing grief and mournful joy
My spirit now is filled,
That I should such a life destroy,
Yet live by him I killed.

1779

THE LOOK.

JOHN NEWTON.

Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword,
Have missed Jehovah, at the judgment-call.
And Peter, from the height of blasphemy-
"I never knew this man did quail and fall,
As knowing straight THAT GOD,— and turned
free
And went out speechless from the face of all,
And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

THE MEANING OF THE LOOK.

I THINK that look of Christ might seem to

say

"Thou Peter! art thou then a con.mon stone Which I at last must break my heart upon, For all God's charge to his high angels may Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should

run

Quick to deny me 'neath the morning-sun,
And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray?
The cock crows coldly. - Go and manifest
A late contrition, but no bootless fear!
For when thy final need is dreariest,
Thou shalt not be denied, as I am here.
My voice, to God and angels, shall attest,
'Because I KNOW this man, let him be clear?"
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

GLORYING IN THE CROSS.

"In cruce Stat securus amor."

'God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross."
GAL. vi. 14.

CAN nothing settle my uncertain breast,
And fix my rambling love?
Can my affections find out nothing best,
But still and still remove?
Has earth no mercy? Will no ark of rest
Receive my restless dove?

Is there no good, than which there's nothing higher,

To bless my full desire

With joys that never change, with joys that

ne'er expire?

I wanted wealth; and, at my dear request, Earth lent a quick supply;

Their thunders that way. The forsaken Lord Looked only, on the traitor. None record What that look was; none guess: for those

who have seen

Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen,

And who more brisk than I?

I wanted fame, to glorify the rest;
My flame flew eagle-high;
My joy not fully ripe, but all decayed,
Wealth vanished like a shade;

My mirth began to flag, my fame began to fade.

The world's an ocean, hurried to and fro

With every blast of passion :

Her lustful streams, when either ebb or flow,
Are tides of man's vexation;
They alter daily, and they daily grow
The worse by alteration:

The earth's a cask full tunned, yet wanting

measure ;

Her precious wine is pleasure;

Her yeast is honor's puff; her lees are worldly

treasure.

My trust is in the cross:. let beauty flag
Her loose, her wanton sail;

Let countenance-gilding honor cease to brag
In courtly terms, and vail;

Let ditch-bred wealth henceforth forget to wag Her base though golden tail;

False beauty's conquest is but real loss,

And wealth but golden dross;

Best honor's but a blast: my trust is in the

cross.

My trust is in the cross; there lies my rest: My fast, my sole delight :

Let cold-mouthed Boreas, or the hot-mouthed East,

Blow till they burst with spite;

Let earth and hell conspire their worst, their best,

And join their twisted might;

Let showers of thunderbolts dart down and

wound me,

And troops of fiends surround me, All this may well confront; all this shall ne'er confound me.

FRANCIS QUARLES.

TWO SAYINGS.

Two sayings of the Holy Scriptures beat
Like pulses in the Church's brow and breast;
And by them we find rest in our unrest,
And heart-deep in salt tears, do yet entreat
God's fellowship, as if on heavenly seat.
The first is JESUS WEPT, whereon is prest
Full many a sobbing face that drops its best
And sweetest waters on the record sweet:
And one is, where the Christ denied and
scorned

LOOKED UPON PETER. Oh, to render plain,
By help of having loved a little and mourned,
That look of sovran love and sovran pain
Which he who could not sin yet suffered,
turned

On him who could reject but not sustain !

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

CONTEMPLATION OF THE CROSS.

WALTER SHIRLEY, cousin of the Countess of Huntingdon, was born in 1725, and was the fourth son of Earl Ferrers. He became a clergyman of the Established Church, and had a living in County Galway, Ireland. He was a friend of Whitefield and Wesley. He died in 1786.

SWEET the moments, rich in blessing,
Which before the cross I spend ;
Life and health and peace possessing
From the sinner's dying Friend.
Here I'll sit, forever viewing

Mercy's streams in streams of blood;
Precious drops, my soul bedewing,
Plead and claim my peace with God.

Truly blessed is this station,

Low before his cross to lie ;
While I see divine compassion
Floating in his languid eye.
Here it is I find my heaven,
While upon the Lamb I gaze;
Love I much? I've much forgiven;
I'm a miracle of grace.

Love and grief my heart dividing,
With my tears his feet I'll bathe;
Constant still, in faith abiding,

Life deriving from his death.
May I still enjoy this feeling,
In all need to Jesus go;
Prove his blood each day more healing,
And himself most deeply know.
JAMES ALLEN, 1774-
WALTER SHIRLEY.

Altered by

REPENTANCE AT THE CROSS.

HEARTS of stone! relent, relent;
Break, by Jesus' cross subdued ;
See his body, mangled, rent,

Stained and covered with his blood! Sinful soul! what hast thou done? Crucified the eternal Son !

Yes, thy sins have done the deed;

Driven the nails that fixed him there; Crowned with thorns his sacred head; Plunged into his side the spear; Made his soul a sacrifice, While for sinful man he dies.

Wilt thou let him bleed in vain,

Still to death thy Lord pursue, Open all his wounds again,

And the shameful cross renew? No, with all my sins I'll part, Saviour, take my broken heart!

-

Translated from the German of JOHAnn Kruger, 1640, by CHARLES WESLEY, 1745

THE CROSS.

TREE, which Heaven has willed to dower
With that true fruit whence we live,
As that other, death did give;
Of new Eden loveliest flower;
Bow of light, that in worst hour
Of the worst flood signal true
O'er the world, of mercy threw ;
Fair plant, yielding sweetest wine;
Of our David harp divine :
Of our Moses tables new ;
Sinner am I, therefore I
Claim upon thy mercies make,
Since alone for sinners' sake
God on thee endured to die.

From the Spanish of CALDERON. Translated
by R. C. TRENCH.

LAMB, THE ONCE CRUCIFIED! "Lamm, das gelitten, und Löwe, der siegreich gerungen."

This truly sublime hymn is the second part of a larger hymn composed in the spring of 1831, and has passed into several German hynin-books. It was translated in April, 1868, by the Rev. Prof. Thomas C. Porter, of Lafayette College, Easton, Pa., for Schaff's "Christ in Song" He has successfully overcome the unusual difficulties of the German dactylic metre.

Didst thou not go,

And, under sentence of woe,

755

Rescue the doomed by transgression?

expression!

pleasure,

Into the land whose bright glories no mortal

can measure,

Strong hope and love

Bear thee, the fulness to prove Of thy salvation's rich treasure.

There, as he is, we shall view him, with rap

ture abiding,

Cheered even here by his glance, when the darkness dividing

DEAN MILMAN, for ten years Professor of Poetry at Oxford, was born in London, Feb. 10, 1791, and died Sept. 24, 1868. He was at the time of his death Dean of St. Paul's. He is known as the historian of Latin Christianity, and as author of a number of other important works.

WHEN our heads are bowed with woe,
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 departing 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.

1827.

HENRY HART MILMAN, D. D.

GETHSEMANE.

BEYOND where Cedron's waters flow,
Behold the suffering Saviour go

To sad Gethsemane ;
His countenance is all divine,
Yet grief appears in every line.

He bows beneath the sins of men;
He cries to God, and cries again,

In sad Gethsemane;

He lifts his mournful eyes above: "My Father, can this cup remove?”

With gentle resignation still
He yielded to his Father's will,
In sad Gethsemane ;

"Behold me here, thine only Son; And, Father, let thy will be done."

The Father heard; and angels there Sustained the son of God in prayer,

In sad Gethsemane ; He drank the dreadful cup of pain, Then rose to life and joy again.