Thy precious time misspent, redeem;
Each present day thy last esteem;
Improve thy talent with due care;
For the great day thyself prepare.

In conversation be sincere,

Keep conscience as the noontide clear;
Think how all-seeing God thy ways
And all thy secret thoughts surveys.

By influence of the light Divine,
Let thy own light to others shine;
Reflect all Heaven's propitious rays
In ardent love, and cheerful praise.

Wake, and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part;
Who all night long unwearied sing
High praise to the eternal King.

I wake, I wake, ye heavenly choir;
May your devotion me inspire;
That I, like you, my age may spend,
Like you may on my God attend.

May I, like you, in God delight,
Have all day long my God in sight;
Perform, like you, my Maker's will:
Oh may I never more do ill.

Had I your wings, to heaven I'd fly;
But God shall that defect supply,
And my soul, wing'd with warm desire,
Shall all day long to heaven aspire.

All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept,
And hast refreshed me whilst I slept;
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake,
I may of endless light partake.

I would not wake nor rise again,
E'en heaven itself I would disdain,
Wert not Thou there to be enjoyed,
And I in hymns to be employed.

Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art;
Oh never then from me depart :
For to my soul 'tis hell to be

But for one moment void of Thee.

Lord, I my vows to Thee renew;
Disperse my sins as morning dew;

Guard my first springs of thought and will,
And with Thyself my spirit fill.

Direct, control, suggest this day
All I design, or do, or say;

That all my powers, with all their might,
In Thy sole glory may unite.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host:

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

AN EVENING HYMN.

ALL praise to Thee, my God, this night,
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, oh keep me, King of kings,
Beneath Thy own almighty wings.

Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son,
The ill that I this day have done;
That with the world, myself, and Thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
To die, that this vile body may
Rise glorious at the awful day.

Oh may my soul on Thee repose,
And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close;
Sleep, that may me more vigorous make,
To serve my God when I awake.

When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply;
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
No powers of darkness me molest.

Dull sleep of sense, me to deprive!
I am but half my time alive;
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved,
To lie so long of Thee bereaved.

Yet, though sleep o'er my frailty reigns,
Let it not hold me long in chains;
And now and then let loose my heart,
Till it one Hallelujah dart.

The faster sleep the senses binds,
The more unfetter'd are our minds;
Oh may my soul, from matter free,
Thy loveliness unclouded see!

Oh when shall I, in endless day,
For ever chase dark sleep away;
And hymns, with the supernal choir,
Incessant sing, and never tire?

Oh may my guardian, while I sleep,
Close to my bed his vigils keep;
His love angelical instil,

Stop all the avenues of ill.

May he celestial joys rehearse,

And, thought to thought, with me converse;

Or, in my stead, all the night long,

Sing to my God a grateful song.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host:

Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

JOHN KENT.

JOHN KENT was born at Bideford, Devonshire, in December, 1766. During his childhood, his father removed to Plymouth, having obtained employment as a shipwright in Plymouth Dock, now Devonport. In his fourteenth year, he was apprenticed to his father. Not having pos sessed the advantage of a school education, his leisure hours were now devoted to selfimprovement. He began to write sacred verses. In 1803, he published a selection of these compositions in a 32mo volume, entitled "A Collection of Original Gospel Hymns" Kent continued to reside at Plymouth, pursuing a career of unobtrusive piety. He was latterly afflicted with the loss of eyesight. His death took place on the 15th November, 1843. "I am accepted," were his last words, as he gently fell asleep. The hymns of John Kent have been frequently reprinted. Those which follow have been transcribed from "Original Gospel Hymns and Poems, by John Kent, with a life of the Author, by his son;" tenth edition. London, 1861, 12010.

THE ROCK OF AGES.

WHEN Overwhelm'd with doubts and fear,
Great God, do Thou my spirit cheer;
Let not mine eyes with tears be fed,
But to the Rock of ages led.

When storms of sin and sorrows beat,
Lead me to this Divine retreat;
Thy perfect righteousness and blood,
My Rock, my Fortress, and my God.

When guilt lies heavy on my soul,
And waves of fierce temptation roll,
I'll to this Rock for shelter flee,
And take my refuge, Lord, in Thee.

When sick, or faint, or sore dismay'd,
Then let my hopes on Thee be stay'd:
Thy summit, rising to the skies,
Shall shield my head when dangers rise.

Shelter'd by Thine omnipotence,

What potent arm shall pluck me hence? On every side I'm guarded well,

With love and grace immutable.

High as my sin, yea, higher too,
This everlasting Rock I view ;
Replete with free eternal grace,
Made from of old my dwelling-place.

When call'd the vale of death to tread,
Then to this Rock may I be led ;
Nor fear to cross that gloomy sea,
Since Thou hast tasted death for me.

A SINNER SAVED.

LET Zion in her songs record
The honours of her dying Lord,

Triumphant over sin ;

How sweet the song there's none can say, But he whose sins are wash'd away,

Who feels the same within.

We claim no merit of our own,
But self-condemned, before Thy throne,
Our hopes on Jesus place;

In heart, in lip, in life depraved,

Our theme shall be "a sinner saved,"
And praise redeeming grace.

We'll sing the same while life shall last,
And when, at the archangel's blast,
Our sleeping dust shall rise;

Then, in a song for ever new,

The glorious theme we'll still pursue
Throughout the azure skies.

Prepared of old, at God's right hand,
Bright, everlasting mansions stand
For all the blood-bought race;
And till we reach those seats of bliss,
We'll sing no other song but this-
Salvation all of grace.