For JESUS reigns! the low, the meek,
Who came, the mourning soul to seek,
Who came, the poor to bless;

He reigns, to cheer the contrite heart:
He reigns, all goodness to impart ;
And lavish happiness.

No more with supercilious eye,
Some unpretending sinner by,
The Pharisee may scowl:
No more the priestly mantle fair
Envelope, with delusive air,
A proud unbending soul.

Avaunt the proud! avaunt the gay
Avaunt! vain meteors of a day!

!

The meek, the humble, come! Avaunt ye great! who rule the world! MESSIAH'S banner is unfurl'd

To call his people home.

Who die with HIM, shall rise again :

Death and the Grave, the Lamb hath slain,

Low in his tomb they lie:

Time! speed thy sand! and break thy glass! Vain shadows of existence! pass!

WE LIVE NOT, TILL WE DIE.

B.

Hymn for Christmas-Day.

AGAIN the Lord of life and light

Awakes the kindling ray;

Unseals the eyelids of the morn,
And pours increasing day.

This day be grateful homage paid,
And loud Hosannas sung:
Let gladness dwell in every heart,
And praise on every tongue.

Ten thousand differing lips shall join
To hail this welcome morn,
Which scatters blessings from its wings
To nations yet unborn.

Jesus, the friend of human kind,

With strong compassion moved, In God his Father's name appear'd To save the men he loved.

The powers of darkness leagued in vain
To bind his soul in death;

He shook their kingdom, when he fell,
By his expiring breath.

Not long the toils of hell could keep
The hope of Judah's line;
Corruption never could take hold
On might so much divine.

And now his conquering chariot wheels Ascend the lofty skies;

While broke, beneath his powerful cross, Death's iron sceptre lies.

Exalted high at God's right hand,
And Lord of all below,
Through him is pard'ning love dispensed,
And boundless blessings flow.

And still for erring, guilty man,
A brother's pity flows:

And still his bleeding heart is touch'd
With memory of our woes.

To God our Saviour and our King,
Glad homage let us give:

And stand prepared like Christ to die,
With Christ that we may live.

Hymn for a Person in Sickness.

O FATHER! glorify thy name

So pray'd at woc's approach my Lord.
Disease corrodes this mortal frame:
O Father! be thy Name adored.

Though life's unruffled days had flown,
Ere yet was past her vernal prime ;
And sickness o'er my head has strewn,
The snows of age before their time:

Why fear the path of grief to tread ;
Why, Father shrink from thy decree:

If thus my longing soul be led

A safer, shorter way to Thee?

On wings of faith, o'er fogs of earth,
Thy servant, Father! teach to rise,
And view the blessing's native worth

Clear'd from affliction's dark disguise.

Yon clouds, a mass of sable shade
To mortals gazing from below,

By angels from above survey'd

With universal sunshine glow.

The Hour of Peace.

A HYMN.

WHEN groves by moonlight silence keep,

And winds the vexed waves release,

And fields are hush'd, and cities sleep :
Lord! is not that the hour of peace?

When infancy at evening tries

By turns to climb each parent's knees, And gazing meets their raptured eyes : Lord! is not that the hour of peace?

In golden pomp when autumn smiles;
And hill and dale its rich increase
By man's full barns exulting piles:

Lord! is not this the hour of peace?

When mercy points where Jesus bleeds,
And Faith beholds thine anger cease,
And Hope to blank Despair succeeds:

This, Father, this alone is Peace.