Take thy refuge in His arms,
Nestle in His loving breast,
Fly to Him in all alarms,

Fly for safety, peace, and rest:
Weep not, darling, at His will;
Love Him, trust Him, praise Him still.

Meekly learn thy cross to bear,

Never murmur or complain;
Cheerful songs and holy prayer
Ease and sanctify thy pain.
Sing of Jesus and His love :
So the angels sing above.

Gentlest lamb of Jesu's fold,

Called to suffer from thy birth,

Take of heaven a firmer hold,

Since thou art not made for earth;

Only lie at Jesu's feet,

Then affliction will be sweet.

FOR SATURDAY NIGHT.

CHAFED and worn with worldly care,
Sweetly, Lord, my heart prepare ;
Bid this inward tempest cease,
Jesus, come and whisper peace.
Hush the whirlwind of my will;
With Thyself my spirit fill;
End in calm this busy week,
Let the Sabbath gently break.

Sever, Lord, these earthly ties,
Fain my soul to Thee would rise;
Disentangle me from time,

Lift me to a purer clime.

Let me cast away my load,

Let me now draw nigh to God.

Gently, loving Jesus, speak,
End in calm this busy week.

Draw the curtain of repose,
While my wearied eyelids close;
Seal my spirit while I rest,

Give me dreamings pure and blest.
Raise me with a cheerful heart;
Holy Ghost, Thyself impart ;

Then the Sabbath-day will be

Heaven brought down to earth and me.

FOR THE CONVERSION OF THE WORLD.

UPLIFT the blood-red banner,
Unsheath the Spirit's sword;

Put on the Christian's armour-
The armour of the Lord :
The helmet of salvation,

And faith's victorious shield;

Go forth with acclamation,
The world your battle-field.

Every battle of the warrior,

Who fights by land or flood,
Is with confused noise,

And garments rolled in blood;
But this shall be with burning,
From heaven its light shall shine,
God's Spirit overturning:

The fire of love Divine.

Uplift the blood-red banner,

And shout with trumpet's sound

Deliverance to the captive,

And freedom to the bound;

Earth's jubilee of glory,

The year of full release :
O tell the wondrous story,
Go forth and publish peace.

Go forth, confessors, martyrs,
With zeal and love unpriced,
And preach the blood of sprinkling,
And live or die for Christ.

For Christ claim every nation,
Your banner wide unfurl'd;
Go forth, and preach salvation-
Salvation for the world.

JAMES GRANT.

JAMES GRANT is understood to have been a native of Edinburgh. He became an ironmonger in that city. Though of most unobtrusive disposition, he was frequently elected a member of the Town Council. In 1746-47, he held the municipal office of City Treasurer; he was afterwards elected one of the magistrates, and Dean of Guild. Of the religious and benevolent institutions in the city he was a zealous promoter. In the prosperity of the Orphan Hospital he was especially concerned. For the benefit of this institution he was led to overcome his natural diffidence by publishing a small volume of hymns, which he had composed for his private use. The little volume appeared in 1784; it was reprinted in 1820. It has been included by Mr. Sedgwick in his "Library of Spiritual Songs." Mr. Grant died on the 1st January, 1785

GOD'S UNCHANGEABLE LOVE.

O ZION, afflicted with wave upon wave,—
By no man comforted, whom no man can save;
By darkness surrounded, by terrors undone ;
In toiling and rowing thy strength almost gone.

Thy en'mies are many, thy fears overwhelm,
But thy blessed Pilot, He sits at the helm ;
His wisdom conducts thee, His pow'r thee defends,
In safety and quiet Thy warfare He ends.

"O fearful! O faithless," in mercy He cries,
"My kindness thou doubts of, my promise denies;
Yet I am still with Thee, my promise shall stand,
Thro' tossing and tempest I'll bring thee to land.

Forget thee I will not, I cannot; thy name
Engraved on my heart it does ever remain,
On the palms of my hands, while looking, I see
The wounds I received in dying for thee.

I feel at my heart all thy sighs and thy groans,

For thou art most near me, my flesh and my bones; In all thy distresses, thy Head knows the pain;

Yet all are most needful, not one is in vain.

Then trust me, and fear not; thy life is secure;
My wisdom is perfect, supreme is my power;
In love I correct thee, thy soul to refine,
To make thee at length in my likeness to shine.

The foolish, the fearful, the weak are my care!
The hopeless, the helpless I hear their sad prayer;
From all their afflictions my glory shall spring;
And the deeper their sorrows, the louder they'll sing."

SUFFICIENCY IN CHRIST.

INFINITE wisdom, power, and grace
In our Redeemer shine;

O let me, by a lively faith,
Make these perfections mine.

In this dark world of sin and grief,
My steps I can't direct;
Nor can I from surrounding foes
My feeble heart protect.

By force, or fraud, they enter here,
And lead my thoughts astray;
Poor captive! I forsake my God,
And wander from His way.

This poor diseasèd, treacherous heart,
Thus wandering from the road,
All nature's skill can never heal,
Nor turn my face to God.

But since in Thine eternal word,
Wisdom and power and grace

In wondrous love are there bestowed
On mankind's helpless race,-

Since wretched, sinful men as I
The promise have believed,
And hence in every time of need
A fit supply received,—

I, too, will on Thy record rest,

On faithfulness divine;

For wisdom, power, and grace I'll trust:

The promise makes them mine.

SIR ROBERT GRANT.

SIR ROBERT GRANT, second son of Charles Grant, an eminent philanthropist and statesman, was born in 1785. He entered Magdalen College, Cambridge, where he graduated in 1806, Selecting the legal profession, he was called to the bar, at Lincoln's Inn, in January, 1807. In 1826, he became representative in Parliament of the Inverness burghs; he subsequently sat for other places. He was sworn a Privy Councillor in 1931, and was appointed Governor of Bombay in 1834. While in the discharge of his high duties, he died at Dapoorie, on the oth July, 1838, in his fifty-third year. He published two works on the government of India. Several hymns from his pen, mutilated by the editors, were in circulation during his lifetime. In 1839, his elder brother, Lord Glenelg, published the whole of his sacred lyrics, twelve in number, from the original MSS. From the second edition of this publication the following hymns have been transcribed,

WHOM HAVE I IN HEAVEN BUT THEE?

LORD of earth! Thy forming hand

Well this beauteous frame hath plann'd

Woods that wave, and hills that tower,

Ocean rolling in his power;

All that strikes the gaze unsought,
All that charms the lonely thought;
Friendship-gem transcending price,
Love-a flower from Paradise,
Yet, amidst this scene so fair,
Should I cease Thy smile to share,
What were all its joys to me?
Whom have I on earth but Thee?

Lord of heaven! beyond our sight
Rolls a world of purer light;
There, in love's unclouded reign,
Parted hands shall clasp again;