JOHN MOULTRIE.

DESCENDED from a Scottish family settled for several generations at Charleston, in America, the subject of this notice was born early in the century, in Great Portland Street, Cavendish Square, London. His father, the Rev. George Moultrie, held, from 1800 to 1845, the living of Cleobury-Mortimer, Shropshire. He was educated chiefly at Eton, where, in 1818, his first popular poem, "My Brother's Grave," was written and published in The Etonian. From Eton he proceeded to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he obtained a scholarship in 1822, and graduated in 1823. He took orders in 1825, and in the same year was appointed to the rectory of Rugby, his present office. Mr. Moultrie has published "The Dream of Life;" "Lays of the English Church;" "Altars, Hearths, and Graves;" and other volumes. He was a contributor to Knight's Quarterly Magazine. The following hymns by Mr. Moultrie are transcribed, with his permission, from a collection of "Psalms and Hymns" prepared by him for the use of his congregation.

By no cunning sleight enticed
From our perfect trust in Christ;
Close, compact in joint and limb
May we all grow up in Him.

A SUNDAY-SCHOOL HYMN.

O LORD, a wondrous story

Our ears have heard of Thee,
How Thou didst leave Thy glory
A little child to be;
And here in lowly station
Didst suffer childhood's woes,
And feel each sharp temptation
Which e'en our childhood knows.

And, in Thy manhood's meekness,
Thy hands were spread to bless
Sweet childhood's smiling weakness
With many a mild caress.

Young babes Thou lov'st to cherish,
As on a parent's knee;

Nor would'st that one should perish,
But all be taught of Thee.

Help then our weak endeavour

To make Thy gospel known, And seal, O Lord, for ever,

These little ones Thine own. Thy Church's nurslings gather Beneath Thy sheltering wing; Be Thou their Friend and Father, Redeemer, Guide, and King.

CHILDREN'S HYMN.

SOURCE of wisdom, past and present,
Fount of love which ne'er shall cease,
Thou, whose ways are always pleasant,
Thou, whose paths are perfect peace;

F F

Though our tongues, which lisp and falter,
Thy transcendent praise bedim,

Hear us now, before Thine altar,
Chant our artless infant hymn.

Vain, without Thy aid, the teaching,
E'en by Christian kindness given;
Hear us now that aid beseeching,
Help us from Thy highest heaven.
Grant us, in ungrudging measure,
Grace, whereby all good is wrought;
Guide us to Thy heavenly treasure,
Bless Thy teachers and Thy taught.

So from homes of humble gladness,—
So from hearths by wealth despised,
Where, alike in joy and sadness,

Wisdom's word is known and prized,-
From the plough, the loom, the spindle,
Hymns of praise shall still be pour'd;
Hearts with grateful love shall kindle
Toward their Saviour and their Lord.

JOHN MASON NEALE, D.D.

THE REV. JOHN MASON NEALE, D.D., was born about the year 1818. He studied at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he graduated in 1840. He was elected warden of Sackville College, East Grinstead, an appointment which he retained to the period of his decease. At Cambridge he obtained the Members' Prize, in 1838, and gained on nine several occasions the Seatonian Prize for the best English poem on a sacred subject. He published "Hymns for Children, * and "Hymns for the Sick;" also two volumes of metrical translations, entitled "Medieval Hymns" and "Hymns of the Eastern Church." Among his extensive prose writings are "Ayton Priory," "Shepperton Manor," "Agnes de Tracey,"-works of fiction; and many historical works, chiefly intended for the young. His "History of the Holy Eastern Church, and "History of the Patriarchate of Alexandria," are well known. Dr. Neale died on the 8th August, 1866.

EVENING.

THE day, O Lord, is spent ;
Abide with us, and rest;

Our hearts' desires are fully bent

On making Thee our guest.

We have not reach'd that land,
That happy land, as yet,

Where holy angels round Thee stand,
Whose sun can never set.

Our sun is sinking now;

Our day is almost o'er;

O Sun of righteousness, do Thou

Shine on us evermore !

From men below the skies,
And all the heavenly host,
To God the Father praise arise-
The Son and Holy Ghost.

CHRIST HATH RISEN.

THE foe behind, the deep before,

Our hosts have dared and past the sea; And Pharaoh's warriors strew the shore, And Israel's ransom'd tribes are free.

Lift up, lift up your voices now!
The whole wide world rejoices now!
The Lord hath triumph'd gloriously!
The Lord shall reign victoriously!
Happy morrow,
Turning sorrow

Into peace and mirth!

Bondage ending,

Love descending

O'er the earth!

Seals assuring,

Guards securing,

Watch His earthly prison;

Seals are shatter'd,

Guards are scatter'd,

Christ hath risen.

No longer must the mourners weep,
Nor call departed Christians dead;

For death is hallow'd into sleep,
And every grave becomes a bed.

Now, once more,

Eden's door

Open stands to mortal eyes;

For Christ hath risen, and men shall rise.
Now, at last,

Old things past,

Hope and joy and peace begin;
For Christ hath won, and man shall win.

It is not exile, rest on high;

It is not sadness, peace from strife;
To fall asleep is not to die;

To dwell with Christ is better life.
Where our banner leads us,
We may safely go;
When our Chief precedes us,

We may face the foe.
His right arm is o'er us,

He will guide us through;
Christ hath gone before us;
Christians, follow you!

He shall soon deliver
From every woe,
Alleluia !

If His paths ye tread,

Pleasures as a river

Shall round you flow;
Alleluia !

When ye see your Head.

With loins upgirt, and staff in hand,
And hasty mien and sandaled feet,
Around the paschal feast we stand,
And of the paschal Lamb we eat.

So shall He collect us, direct us, protect us,
From Egypt's strand;

So shall He precede us, and feed us, and lead us,
To Canaan's land.