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To faith reveal the things unseen,

To hope the joys untold;
Let love without a veil between

Thy glory now behold.

O make Thy face on me to fhine,

That doubt and fear may cease; Lift up Thy countenance benign

On me—and give me peace.

'James Montgomery. 1803-1853.

SUNDAY.

WHEN the worn spirit wants repose,
And fighs her God to seek,
How sweet to hail the evening's close,
That ends the weary week!

How sweet te hail the early dawn,

That opens on the fight,
When firft that soul-reviving morn

Sheds forth new rays of light!

Sweet day! thine hours too soon will cease;

Yet, while they gently roll,
Breathe, Heavenly Spirit, source of peace,

A Sabbath o'er my soul!

When will my pilgrimage be done,

The world's long week be o'er,
That Sabbath dawn which needs no sun,

That day, which fades no more?

'James Edmejton. 1820.

ORD of all being! throned afar,

Centre and soul of every sphere,
Yet to each loving heart how near!

Sun of our life, thy wakening ray
Sheds on our path the glow of day;
Star of our hope, thy softened light
Cheers the long watches of the night.

Our midnight is thy smile withdrawn;
Our noontide is thy gracious dawn;
Our rainbow arch, thy mercy's fign;
All, save the clouds of fin, are thine!

Lord of all life, below, above,

Whose light is truth, whose warmth is love,

Before thy ever-blazing throne

We afk no luftre of our own.

A SUNDAY HYMN.

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flames from sun and ftar;

Grant us thy truth to make us free,
And kindling hearts that burn for thee,
Till all thy living altars claim
One holy light, one heavenly flame!

OF THE INCOMPARABLE TREASURE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.

ERE is the spring where waters flowe,

Here is the tree where trueth doth grow,

To lead our lives therein;
Here is the Judge that flints the ftrife,

Where men's devices faille;
Here is the bread that feedes the life

That death cannot aflaile;
The tidings of salvation deare

Come to our eares from hence;
The fortress of our faith is here,

And fhielde of our defence.
Then be not like the hogge that hath

A pearle at his defire,
And takes more pleasure in the trough,

And wallowing in the mire;

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To quench our heate of finne;

Reade not this booke in any case

But with a fingle eye;
Read not but firft defire God's grace

To vnderftand thereby;
Pray ftill in faith with this respect,

To fructifie therein,
That knowledge may bring this effec-t

To mortify thy finne. t Then happie thou in all thy life,

What so to thee befalles;
Yea, double happie fhalt thou be

When God by death thee calles.

From Barter's Bible. 1594. THE ONE CHURCH.

OUTSIDE THE CHURCH.

ISTAND without here in the porch,
I hear the bell's melodious din,
I hear the organ peal within,
I hear the prayer with words that scorch
Like sparks from an inverted torch,
I hear the sermon upon fin,
With threatenings of the laft account.
And all, tranflated in the air,
Reach me but as our dear Lord's prayer,
And as the Sermon on the Mount.

Muft it be Calvin, and not Chrift?
Muft it be Athanafian creeds,
Or holy water, books, and beads?
Muft ftruggling souls remain content
With councils and decrees of Trent?
And can it be enough for these
The Chriftian Church the year embalms
With evergreens and boughs of palms,
And fills the air with litanies?

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