A royal diadem adorns

The nighty Victor's brow.

Forsaken? why so far

Art Thou from helping me and from

My words that roaring are?

All day, my God, to Thee I cry,

Yet am not heard by Thee;

And in the season of the night

I cannot silent be.

3 But Thou art holy, Thou that dost
Inhabit Israel's praise.

In Thee our fathers hoped, they hoped,
And Thou didst them release.

4 And when to Thee they sent their cry,
To them deliverance came;
In Thee they placed their confidence,
And were not put to shame.

Psalm 22.

198

S. S. WESLEY.

2 What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered
Was all for sinners' gain:
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain:
Lo, here I fall, my Saviour!

'Tis I deserved Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor,

Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

3 What language shall I borrow

To thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this, Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
Lord, make me Thine forever,
Nor let me faithless prove:
O let me never, never,
Abuse such dying love.

4 Be near when I am dying,

O show Thy cross to me!
And for my succor flying,
Come, Lord, and set me free!
These eyes, new faith receiving,
From Jesus shall not move;
For he who dies believing,
Dies safely-through Thy love.

James W. Alexander, tr.

199

1 I need Thee, precious Jesus!
For I am full of sin;

My soul is dark and guilty,
My heart is dead within.
I need the cleansing fountain,
Where I can always flee,
The blood of Christ most precious,
The sinner's perfect plea.

2 I need Thee, blessed Jesus!
For I am very poor;
A stranger and a pilgrim,
I have no earthly store;
I need the love of Jesus

To cheer me on my way,
To guide my doubting footsteps,
To be my strength and stay.

3 I need Thee, blessed Jesus!
And hope to see Thee soon,
Encircled with the rainbow,
And seated on Thy throne:
There, with Thy blood-bought children,
My joy shall ever be

To sing Thy praise, Lord Jesus,
To gaze, my Lord, on Thee!

Frederick Whitfield.

200 Nuremburg. 7s.

JOHANN R. AHLE.

2 Love's redeeming work is done,
Fought the fight, the battle won:
Lo! the sun's eclipse is o'er;
Lo! he sets in blood no more.

3 Vain the stone, the watch, the seal;
Christ hath burst the gates of hell!
Death in vain forbids his rise;
Christ hath opened Paradise!

201

4 Lives again our glorious King: Where, O Death, is now thy sting? Once He died, our souls to save: Where thy victory, boasting Grave?

5 Soar we now where Christ has led, Follow our exalted Head;

1 The Church's one foundation Is Jesus Christ her Lord;

She is His new creation

By water and the word:

From heaven He came and sought her, To be His holy bride;

With His own blood He bought her,

And for her life He died.

2 Elect from every nation

Yet one o'er all the earth,
Her charter of salvation

One Lord, one faith, one birth;
One holy name she blesses,

Partakes one holy food,
And to one hope she presses,
With every grace endued.

Made like Him, like Him we rise; Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. Charles Wesley.

No. 198.

3 'Mid toil and tribulation,
And tumult of her war,
She waits the consummation
Of peace forevermore;
Till with the vision glorious

Her longing eyes are blest,
And the great Church victorious
Shall be the Church at rest.

4 Yet she on earth hath union

With God the Three in One,
And mystic sweet communion
With those whose rest is won:
Oh, happy ones and holy!

Lord, give us grace that we
Like them, the meek and lowly,
On high may dwell with Thee.
Samuel J. Stone, 1865.

202 Federal Street. L. M.

HENRY K. OLIVER.

2 62

20 lovely attitude! He stands

With melting heart and laden hands: O matchless kindness! and He shows This matchless kindness to His foes. 3 But will He prove a friend indeed?

He will; the very friend you need: The friend of sinners-yes, 't is He, With garments dyed on Calvary. 4 Admit Him, ere His anger burn; His feet, departed, ne'er return; Admit Him, or the hour's at hand You'll at His door rejected stand. Joseph Gregg.

203

1 God calling yet! shall I not hear?
Earth's pleasures shall I still hold dear?
Shall life's swift passing years all fly,
And still my soul in slumber lie?
2 God calling yet! shall I not rise?
Can I His loving voice despise,
And basely His kind care repay?
He calls me still; can I delay?

3 God calling yet! and shall He knock,
And I my heart the closer lock?

He still is waiting to receive, And shall I dare His Spirit grieve? 4 God calling yet! I cannot stay; My heart I yield without delay: Vain world, farewell! from thee I part; The voice of God hath reached my heart. Jane Borthwick, tr.

204

1 Haste, traveler, haste! the night comes
And many a shining hour is gone; [on,
The storm is gathering in the west,
And thou art far from home and rest.
2 O far from home thy footsteps stray;
Christ is the Life, and Christ the Way,
And Christ the Light; thy setting sun
Sinks ere thy morning is begun.

3 The rising tempest sweeps the sky;

The rains descend, the winds are high;
The waters swell, and death and fear
Beset thy path, nor refuge near.

4 Then linger not in all the plain,
Flee for thy life, the mountain gain;
Look not behind, make no delay,
O speed thee, speed thee on thy way,
William B. Collyer.