4 That voice, aloud from Calvary's height,
Proclaims the soul forgiven;
That star, is revelation's light,
That hope, the hope of heaven.
663. 8 & 7s. M. MONTGOMERY.
Joyful Hope.
1 KNow, my soul! thy full salvation;
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,
Joy to find, in every station,
Something still to do, or bear;
Think what spirit dwells within thee;
Think what Father's smiles are thine;
Think what Jesus did to win thee;-
Child of heaven! canst thou repine?
2 Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed with faith, and winged with prayer;
Heaven's eternal day's before thee,
God's own hand shall guide thee there:
Soon shall cease thine earthly mission,
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and prayer to praise.
1 How swift, alas! the moments fly!
How rush the years along!
Scarce here, yet gone already by,-
The burden of a song.
2 See childhood, youth, and manhood pass,
And age, with furrowed brow;
Time was,-time shall be,—but, alas!
Where, where, in time, is Now?
3 Time is the measure but of change;
No present hour is found;
The past, the future, fill the range
Of time's unceasing round.
4 Then, pilgrim, let thy joys and fears
On time no longer lean;
But henceforth all thy hopes and fears
From earth's affection wean.
5 To God let grateful accents rise;
With truth, with virtue live;
So all the bliss that time denies,
Eternity shall give.
"Give an account of thy stewardship."
1 THE time draws near when every soul
Its last account shall give;
When its whole life shall be surveyed
By him who bade it live.
2 How many talents, O my God,
Hast thou bestowed on me!
And yet how few can there be found
Devoted, Lord, to thee!
3 My health, my time, my worldly store,
And thy more precious word,
Thy talents are, for which I must
Account to thee, my Lord.
4 Much of my time, alas, is lost,
And much have I misspent:
How careless of my great concern,
On trifles how intent!
5 O may the slothful servant's doom
My earnest care excite;
Each talent may I well improve,
And in thy word delight.
Religion the one thing needful.
1 WHY do we waste in trifling cares
The lives divine compassion spares,
While, thro' the various range of thought,
The one thing needful is forgot?
2 Our Father calls us from above;
Our Saviour pleads his dying love;
Awakened conscience gives us pain:
Shall all these pleas unite in vain?
3 Not so our dying eyes will view
The objects which we now pursue;
Not so eternity appear,
When death's decisive hour is near.
4 Then wake, my soul; thy way prepare,
And lose in this each meaner care;
With steady step that path be trod,
Which through the grave conducts to God.
1 SOFT are the fruitful showers that bring The welcome promise of the spring, And soft the vernal gale:
Sweet the wild warblings of the grove,
The voice of nature and of love,
That gladden every vale.
2 But softer in the mourner's ear
Sounds the mild voice of Mercy near,
That whispers sins forgiven;
And sweeter far the music swells,
When, to the raptured soul, she tells
Of peace and promised heaven.
3 Fair are the flowers that deck the ground;
And groves and gardens, blooming round,
Unnumbered charms unfold.
Bright is the sun's meridian ray,
And bright the beams of setting day,
That robe the clouds in gold.
4 But far more fair the pious breast,
In richer robes of goodness dressed,
Where heaven's own graces shine; And brighter far the prospects rise, That burst on Faith's delighted eyes, From glories all divine.
S. M. JERVIS.
Peace to the returning penitent.
1 SWEET is the friendly voice
Which speaks of life and peace,
Which bids the penitent rejoice,
And sin and sorrow cease.
2 No balm on earth like this
Can cheer the contrite heart:
No flattering dreams of earthly bliss
Such pure delight impart.
3 Still merciful and kind,
Thy mercy, Lord! reveal:
The broken heart thy love can bind,
The wounded spirit heal.
4 Thy presence shall restore
Peace to my anxious breast:
Lord, let my steps be drawn no more
From paths which thou hast blest.
669. 11s. M.
"Learn of me, and ye shall find rest.”
1 How gracious the promise, how soothing the
That came from the lips of our merciful Lord;"Ye lone and ye weary, ye sad and oppressed, Come learn of your Saviour, and ye shall find
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