Every hope Thy offspring is,
Beaming from futurity.

Every sun of splendid ray;

Every moon that shines serene;
Every morn that welcomes day;
Every evening's twilight scene;
Every hour which wisdom brings;
Every incense at Thy shrine ;—
These, and all life's holiest things,
And its fairest, all are Thine.

And for all, my hymns shall rise
Daily to Thy gracious throne;
Thither let my asking eyes

Turn unwearied, righteous One!
Through life's strange vicissitude,
There reposing all my care;
Trusting still, through ill and good,

Fixed, and cheered, and counselled there.

benry Francis Lyte.

1793-1847.

LONG DID I TOIL.

Long did I toil, and knew no earthly rest,

Far did I rove, and found no certain home; At last I sought them in His sheltering breast,

Who opes His arms, and bids the weary come :

With Him I found a home, a rest divine;
And I since then am His, and He is mine.

Yes! He is mine! and naught of earthly things, Not all the charms of pleasure, wealth, or

power,

The fame of heroes, or the pomp of kings,

Could tempt me to forego His love an hour. Go, worthless world, I cry, with all that's thine! Go, I my Saviour's am, and He is mine.

The good I have is from His stores supplied;
The ill is only what He deems the best ;

He for my Friend, I'm rich with naught be

side;

And poor without Him, though of all possest : Changes may come; I take, or I resign;

Content, while I am His, while He is mine.

Whate'er may change, in Him no change is

seen;

A glorious Sun, that wanes not nor declines; Above the clouds and storms He walks serene, And sweetly on His people's darkness shines : All may depart; I fret not, nor repine,

While I my Saviour's am, while He is mine.

He stays me falling, lifts me up when down, Reclaims me wandering, guards from every foe;

Plants on my worthless brow the victor's crown; Which, in return, before His feet I throw, Grieved that I cannot better grace His shrine, Who deigns to own me His, as He is mine.

While here, alas ! I know but half His love,
But half discern Him, and but half adore ;
But when I meet Him in the realms above,
I hope to love Him better, praise Him more,
And feel and tell, amid the choir divine,
How fully I am His, and He is mine.

ABIDE WITH ME.

Abide with me: fast falls the even-tide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me, abide !
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away : Change and decay in all around I see;

O Thou, who changest not, abide with me!

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word;
But as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free,

Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me.

Come not in terrors, as the King of kings;
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings,
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea ;

Come, Friend of sinners, and thus abide with me.

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile,
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left thee.
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me!

I need Thy presence every passing hour : What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power?

Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be? Thro' cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me!

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless ;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness :
Where is death's sting? where, grave, thy
victory ?

I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes : Shine through the gloom, and point me to the

skies;

Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee :

In life and death, O Lord, abide with me!

William Beattie.

1793-1875.

FROM "EVENING HYMN OF THE ALPINE
SHEPHERDS."

Brothers, the day declines;
Above, the glacier brightens ;
Through hills of waving pines
The "vesper halo" lightens !
Now wake the welcome chorus
To Him our sires adored;
To Him who watcheth o'er us,-
Ye shepherds, praise the Lord!

From each tower's embattled crest
The vesper-bell has toll'd;
"T is the hour that bringeth rest
To the shepherd and his fold:
From hamlet, rock, and chalet
Let our evening song be pour'd;
Till mountain, rock, and valley
Re-echo,-Praise the Lord!

Praise the Lord, who made and gave us
Our glorious mountain-land!
Who deign'd to shield and save us

From the despot's iron hand :
With the bread of life He feeds us ;
Enlighten'd by His word,

Through pastures green He leads us,-
Ye shepherds, praise the Lord!