When we see Thee as the victim, Be to Thee, Thou Lamb of God! SIR EDWARD DENNY, BART. SIR EDWARD DENNY, BART., of Tralee Castle, county Kerry, Ireland, was born on the 2nd October, 1796. On the death of his father, he succeeded as fourth baronet, in August, 1831. Sir Edward is the author of several publications on Scripture prophecies, chiefly in reference to the millennial period. In 1848, he published "Hymns and Poems," London, 12mo. This work has passed into a second edition. Sir Edward resides chiefly in London. THE HEART WATCHING FOR THE MORNING. LIGHT of the lonely pilgrim's heart, Star of the coming day! Arise, and with Thy morning beams, Chase all our griefs away. Come, blessed Lord! bid every shore And own Thee as their King. Bid the whole earth, responsive now In memory of Thy love. Lord, Lord, Thy fair creation groans, In unison with all our hearts, Come, then, with all Thy quickening power, With one awakening smile, And bid the serpent's trail no more Thy beauteous realms defile. Thine was the cross, with all its fruit THE MAN OF SORROWS. A PILGRIM through this lonely world, That tender heart that felt for all, It found on earth no resting-place, Such was our Lord-and shall we fear Or love a faithless, evil world That wreathed His brow with thorn? No; facing all its frowns or smiles, Like Him obedient still, We homeward press, through storm or calm, To yon celestial hill. In tents we dwell amid the waste, Nor turn aside to roam 'In folly's paths, nor seek our rest Where Jesus had no home. Dead to the world, with Him who died We, risen with our risen Head, By faith, His boundless glories there, This fills our hearts with deep desire To lose ourselves in love, Bears all our hopes from earth away, And fixes them above. THE HEART BIDDING FAREWELL TO THE WORLD. THOU vain, deceitful world, farewell! Jesus, we go with Thee, to taste Of joy supreme that never dies; And oh ! while unto heaven's high hill Thy circling wings of mercy spread. From day to day, from hour to hour, THE CHURCH CHEERED WITH THE HOPE OF BRIDE of the Lamb, awake! awake! Why sleep for sorrow now? The hope of glory, Christ is thine, A child of glory thou. Thy spirit, through the lonely night Hath sigh'd for one that's far away,- But see, the night is waning fast, He comes, for oh, His yearning heart To call His Bride away. This earth, the scene of all His woe, Full soon upon His heavenly throne Its rightful King shall see. Thou too shalt reign, He will not wear His crown of joy alone; And earth His royal Bride shall see Then weep no more; 'tis all thine own- His crown, His joy Divine; And, sweeter far than all beside, He, He Himself is thine. REST FOR THE WEARY. WHERE, in this waste, unlovely world, With thoughts of sorrows yet to come, In Him who, of the Father's love, The gracious herald came, Of mercy to a guilty world, Of blessing through His name. In Him who, with unsullied feet In Jesus who, ascended now, 'Tis only in His changeless love, In the same track where He of old Led onward by His grace, we learn LOOKING UNTO JESUS. CHILDREN of light, arise and shine! Oh, then, for heavenly glory born, With Christ, with glory full in view, Come on, then, cleave no more to earth, The cross is ours; we bear it now; And suffer there at last? |