2 From age to age unchanging, still the same

All-good thou art;

Hallowed forever be thy reverend name

In every heart!

3 When the glad morn upon the hills was spread.

Thy smile was there;

Now, as the darkness gathers overhead,
We feel thy care.

4 Night spreads her shade upon another day

Forever past;

So o'er our faults thy love, we humbly pray,

A veil may cast.

5 Silence and sleep o'er hearts by earth distrest

Now sweetly steal;

So every fear that struggles in the breast

Shall faith conceal.

6 Thou through the dark will watch above our sleep

With eye of love;

And thou wilt wake us, when the sunbeams leap The hills above.

7 O, may each heart its gratitude express

As life expands;

And find the triumph of its happiness

In thy commands!

503

P. M.

Wymn for Christmas.

10 LOVELY Voices of the sky,

MRS. HEMANS.

Which hymned the Saviour's birth,
Are ye not singing still on high,
Ye that sang "Peace on earth"?
To us yet speak the strains
Wherewith, in time gone. by,
Ye blessed the Syrian swains,
O voices of the sky!

2 O clear and shining Light, whose beams,
That hour, heaven's glory shed
Around the palms, and o'er the streams,
And on the shepherds' head !
Be near, through life and death,
As in that holiest night
Of hope, and joy, and faith,

O clear and shining Light!

504

10s M.

ANONYMOUS.

"Ef he giveth Quiet, who can make Trouble?"

1 QUIET from God! how beautiful to keep

This treasure, the All-merciful hath given; To feel, when we awake and when we sleep, Its incense round us, like a breath from heaven!

2 To sojourn in the world, and yet apart;

To dwell with God, and still with man to feel; To bear about forever in the heart

The gladness which his Spirit doth reveal!

3 Who shall make trouble then? Not evil minds,
Which like a shadow o'er creation lower;
The soul which peace hath thus attunéd finds
How strong within doth reign the Calmer's power.

4 What shall make trouble? Not the holy thought Of the departed; that will be a part

Of those undying things his peace hath wrought
Into a world of beauty in the heart.

5 What shall make trouble? Not slow-wasting pain, Nor even the threatening, certain stroke of death; These do but wear away, then break, the chain Which bound the spirit down to things beneath.

428

505

P. M.

Vespers.

ANONYMOUS.

1 FADING, still fading, the last beam is shining; Father in heaven! the day is declining;

Safety and innocence flee with the light,

Temptation and danger walk forth with the night; From the fall of the shade till the morning bells

chime,

Shield us from danger, and keep us from crime! 2 Father in heaven! O, hear, when we call, Through Jesus Christ, who is Saviour of all! Fainting and feeble, we trust in thy might; In doubting and darkness thy love be our light! Let us sleep on thy breast while the night-taper.

burns,

And wake in thy arms when the morning returns.

506

11 & 5s M.

BOWRING.

Humble Devotion.

1 FROM the recesses of a lowly spirit,

Our humble prayer ascends; O Father! hear it. Borne on the trembling wings of fear and meekness;

Forgive its weakness!

2 We see thy hand: it leads us, it supports us :

We hear thy voice; it counsels and it courts us;
And then we turn away; and still thy kindness

Forgives our blindness.

3 O, how long-suffering, Lord! but thou delightest
To win with love the wandering; thou invitest,
By smiles of mercy, not by frowns or terrors,
Man from his errors.

4 Father and Saviour! plant within each bosom
The seeds of holiness, and bid them blossom
In fragrance and in beauty bright and vernal,
And spring eternal.

5 Then place them in those everlasting gardens, Where angels walk, and seraphs are the wardens; Where every flower escaped through death's dark

Becomes immortal.

portal

507

L. M.

S. F. ADAMS.

The Human Heart.

1 O HUMAN heart! thou hast a song
For all that to the earth belong,
Whene'er the golden chain of love
Hath linked thee to the heaven above.

2 O human heart! what deed of thine
Could gain a kingdom so divine?
"T was asked but this, in accents mild,
The gentle spirit of a child.

3 O human heart! that singest still,
Through chastening good, misreckoned ill,
Thou mind'st Bethesda's fount to feel,
The angel troubles but to heal.