HYMN FOR MONDAY MORNING.

"Blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out."

Now let our heavenly plants and flowers
Diffuse a fragrance more divine;
Refreshed by the sweet Sabbath showers,
With richer beauty they should shine.

We have been wafted for a while,

Far, far

away from this low scene; Been cheer'd by our Redeemer's smile, Been suffered on His breast to lean.

What has He taught us? what should be
The fruit of intercourse so blest ?

O should not all around us see
His image on our souls imprest.

Within His ivory palace fair

We entered, a much-favoured train : Myrrh, aloes, cassia, filled the air,

Our garments should the scent retain.

And we should pass along the earth,
Like birds that live upon the wing;

Rise to the country of our birth,
And on our way its anthems sing.

From Hymns for a Week.

EVENING HYMN.

Now all the woods are lulled to rest,

And man and beast on earth's wide breast,
The city, and the field;

Yet rouse ye, powers of soul and sense,
To praise your God, your strong Defence,
Your Maker, and your Shield.

Where art thou now, thou cheering sun?
Thou far hast fled, in haste to shun
Grim night, the daylight's foe;

But in my heart another Light,

My Jesus, Sun of all delight,

Shines clear, and thou may'st go.

Now that the day is far aloof,

The stars come out and seek the roof
Of heaven's azure dome;

Thus shall I stand, thus shall I shine,
When from this earth, on which we pine,
My God shall call me home.

The body, longing for its rest,

Strips off each garb from limb and breast,

Types of its mortal fate;

When it is laid aside, my Lord

Will clothe me, as a rich reward,

In robes of royal state.

The head, and feet, and hands are glad,

That labour now an end hath had,

All toiling and all din ;

O heart, rejoice, for thou shalt be
One day from earthly misery free,-
Free from the strife with sin.

Now lay thee down, thou weary frame,
Go, lay thee down, I may not blame
Thy need of pillowed rest;

The time will come, the day will break,
When they for thee a bed will make
On earth's unyielding breast.

I cannot hold my eyes awake,

And where, while closed their rest they take,
Are powers of soul and limb?
Thou, Israel's Watcher, dost not sleep,
And from all harms Thine eye will keep
Both through the midnight dim.

Jesus, spread out Thy sheltering wings,
To Thee, O Strength, my weakness clings,
Gather Thy nestling in:

Should Satan seek me for his prey,
Then let Thine angels singing say,

"This child thou shalt not win."

On you, my dear ones, may no blight
Of evil fall throughout this night,
Nor dangers, nor alarms;

May God, beloved, give you sleep,

While round your bed His watchers keep

Their guard with golden arms.

PAUL GERHARD.

Translated by M. G. T.

EVENING HYMN.

"Now is our salvation nearer than when we believed."

Now one day's journey less divides

Me from the world where God resides;
If I have walk'd by faith in fear,
A stranger and a pilgrim here,

I've one day less my watch to keep,
My foes to fear, my falls to weep;
I've one day less to see within,
Conflict, defeat, remorse, and sin.

And oh! reflect, my fainting soul,
Thou'rt one stage nearer to the goal;
Thou'rt one stage nearer to the shore,
Where thou wilt grieve for sin no more.

If the sweet presence of thy God

To-day has cheered and blessed thy road, Think what must be that glorious place, Where He will never hide His face.

If thou hast oft been led astray,
And mournfully review'st the day,
Still strive the more that rest to attain
Where thou wilt never sin again.

If thou hast mourned for friends endear'd,
Whose converse once thy journey cheer'd,
Think that in heaven no cause will sever
The bond that re-unites for ever,

Let every gift by God bestowed,
Each kind refreshment on my road;
Let every sorrow, hope, and fear,
Incite my soul to persevere.

Since I alone on Thee depend,

Oh, guide me to my journey's end;

Then bear my soul o'er death's dark wave, To realms of joy beyond the grave.

From Hymns for a Week.

NEARER HEAVEN.

ONE Sweetly solemn thought
Comes to me, o'er and o'er,

I'm nearer my home to-day,
Than I've ever been before.

Nearer my Father's home,

Where the many mansions be;
Nearer the great White Throne,
Nearer the jasper sea.

Nearer the bound of life

Where I lay my burthen down;

Nearer to leave my cross,

Nearer to wear my crown.

Nearer the time when I shall join
The white robed angels' song;
And meet the dear ones gone before,
Amid that countless throng.