2 There are hearts like the ivy - though all be de

cayed,

Which it seemed to clasp fondly in sunlight and shade;

Yet droop not its leaves but still gayly they spread, Undimmed 'midst the blighted, the lonely and dead; And the mistletoe clings to the oak, not in part, But with leaves closely round it- the root in its heart,

Exists but to twine it, and drink the same dew; Or to fall with its loved oak and perish there too.

3 Thus we'll love one another, midst sorrow the worst, Unaltered and fond as we loved at the first

91

Though the false wing of pleasure may charge and forsake,

And the bright urn of wealth into particles break; There are some sweet affections that earth cannot

buy,

That cling but the closer when sorrow draws nigh, And remain with us yet, though all else pass awayYes-we'll love one another as long as we stay.

[7s.]

The Goodness of God.*

TUNE-" Wilmot."

1 LET us with a joyful mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind;
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

2 He, with all commanding might,
Filled the new made world with light;
For his mercies shall endure,

Ever faithful, ever sure.

*Vide Ps. CXXXVI.

but fifteen years of age.

This hymn was written when the author was

3 He his chosen race did bless
In the wasteful wilderness;
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

4 He hath, with a piteous eye,
Looked upon our misery;
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

5 All things living he doth feed;
His full hand supplies their need;
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

6 Let us therefore warble forth
His high majesty and worth;
For his mercies shall endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

JOHN MILTON.

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[L. M.]

Sweet is the Scene.

TUNE-"Whiteland."

"Hebron."

1 SWEET is the scene when Christians die,
When sinks a righteous soul to rest,-

How mildly beams the closing eye,

How gently heaves the expiring breath.

2 So fades a summer cloud away;

So sinks the gale when storms are o’er ;
So gently shuts the eye of day;
So dies a wave along the shore.

3 Triumphant smiles the victor's brow,
Fanned by some angel's purple wing;
Where is, O, grave! thy victory now
And where, insidious death, thy sting?
MRS. L. BARBAULD.

68

88

93

SACRED SONGS.

The Hour of Prayer.

[7s.] TUNE- See Kingsley's S. Choir, vol. 1, p. 84.

1 CHILD, amidst the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently;
Father, by the breeze of eve,
Called thy harvest work to leave,
Pray! ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

2 Traveller, in the stranger's land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
Of a voice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell,
Sunshine hath not leave to dwell;
Sailor, on the darkening sea,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

3 Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set of sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain,
Weeping on his burial plain;
Ye that triumph, ye that sigh,
Kindred by one holy tie;
Heaven's first star alike ye see-
Lift the heart and bend the knee.

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[L. M.]

MRS. F. HEMANS.

The Glory of God.*

TUNE-" Cephas."

1 THE spacious firmament on high,
With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,
Their great Original proclaim.

* Vide Ps. xix.

Th' unwearied sun, from day to day,
Does his Creator's power display,
And publishes to every land
The work of an Almighty hand.

2 Soon as the evening shades prevail,
The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth,
Repeats the story of her birth;-

While all the stars that round her burn,
And all the planets in their turn,
Confirm the tidings as they roll,
And spread the truth from pole to pole.

3 What! though in solemn silence all
Move round this dark terrestrial ball
What! though nor real voice, nor sound
Amid their radiant orbs be found
In reason's ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious voice;
Forever singing as they shine,

"THE HAND THAT MADE US IS DIVINE.”

JOSEPH ADDISON.

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[8s & 78.]

The Birth of the Saviour.

TUNE-"Abba." "Wilmot."

1 HARK! what mean those holy voices,
Sweetly sounding through the skies?

Lo! the angelic host rejoices;
Heavenly hallelujahs rise.

2 Hear them tell the wondrous story,
Hear them chant in hymns of joy,

"Glory in the highest, glory,

Glory be to God most high."

3 Peace on earth, good will from heaven,
Reaching far as man is found;
"Souls redeemed, and sins forgiven,"
Loud our golden harps shall sound.

4 Christ is born, the great Anointed;
Heaven and earth his praises sing;
Oh, receive whom God appointed,
For your Prophet, Priest, and King.
5 Haste, ye mortals, to adore him;
Learn his name and taste his joy,
Till in heaven ye sing before him,
Glory be to God most high.

CAWOOD.

96

[L. M.]

The Matin Hour of Devotion.

TUNE-" Illa." "Ashford."

1 ERE falls the stealing step of dawn,

The night's soft dew on her brown wings, Uprises from her nest, the lark,

And soaring to the sunlight, sings.

2 Thus may my soul sing on, and soar Where sight tracks not her flight sublime, Morn, noon, sweet eve, and ever in

This cool and fragrant hour of prime.

3 For though the world enclose me round,
Strong Faith can carry me abroad,
Where shines my home, Jerusalem,
The glorious dwelling-place of God!

4 Then let my soul sing on and soar
Above the world, beyond all time,

And dwell in that pure light, and breathe
The air from that celestial clime.