OLD HYMN.]

HOLY SCRIPTURE..

[Tune-" Dundee.”

WHO has this Book and reads it not

Doth God himself despise ;
Who reads, but understandeth not,
His soul in darkness lies.

Who understands, but savours not,
He finds no rest in trouble;
Who savours but obeyeth not,
He hath his judgment double.

Who reads this Book-who understands
Doth savour and obey;

His soul shall stand at God's right hand,
In the great judgment day.

THE LORD WILL PROVIDE.

[Tune-" Hanover."

REV. JOHN NEWTON.]
THO' troubles assail, and dangers affright,
Tho' friends should all fail, and foes all unite,
Yet one thing secures us, whatever betide,
The promise assures us,
"The Lord will provide."

The birds without barn, or storehouse, are fed:
From them let us learn to trust for our bread :
His saints, what is fitting, shall ne'er be denied,
So long as 'tis written, "The Lord will provide."
We all may, like ships, by tempests be toss'd,
On perilous deeps, but need not be lost;
Tho' Satan enrages the wind and the tide,
The Scripture engages, "The Lord will provide."
When Satan appears to hedge up our path,
And fills us with fears, we conquer thro' faith;
He cannot take from us, tho' oft he has tried,
The heart-cheering promise, "The Lord will provide."

He tells us we're weak, our hope is in vain,
The good that we seek, we ne'er shall obtain ;
But when such temptations our graces have tried,
This answers all questions, "The Lord will provide."

No strength of our own, nor goodness we claim,
Our trust is alone in Jesus's name ;

In this our strong tower, for safety we hide,
The Lord is our power, "The Lord will provide."

When life sinks apace, and death is in view,
The word of his grace shall bring us safe thro';
Nor fearing, nor doubting, with Christ on our side,
We hope to die shouting, "The Lord will provide."

EVENING PRAYER.

THOMAS KELLY.]

[Tune-"Dretzel."

THROUGH the day Thy love has spared us;
Now we lay us down to rest;

Through the silent watches guard us,

Let no foe our peace molest ;

Jesus, Thou our Guardian be!
Sweet it is to trust in Thee.

Pilgrims here on earth, and strangers,
Dwelling in the midst of foes;
Us and ours preserve from dangers,
In thine arms may we repose,

And, when life's sad day is past,
Rest with Thee in heaven at last.

SAINT ANDREW.

REV. JOHN KEBLE.]

[Tune

Melcombe."

WHEN brothers part for manhood's race,
What gift may most enduring prove

To keep fond memory in her place,
And certify a brother's love?

'Tis true, bright hours together told,
And blissful dreams in secret shar'd,
Serene or solemn, gay or bold,

Shall last in fancy unimpair'd.
Een round the death-bed of the good
Such dear remembrances will hover,
And haunt us with no vexing mood,
When all the cares of earth are over.
But yet our craving spirits feel
We shall live on, though fancy die,
And seek a surer pledge,-a seal
Of love to last eternally.

Who art thou that wouldst grave thy name
Thus deeply in a brother's heart?
Look on this saint, and learn to frame
Thy love-charm with true Christian art.
First seek thy Saviour out, and dwell
Beneath the shadow of His roof,
Till thou hast scann'd His features well,
And known Him for the Christ by proof;

Such proof as they are sure to find

Who spend with Him their happy days,
Clean hands, and a self-ruling mind,
Ever in time for love and praise.

Thus, potent with the spell of Heaven,
Go, and thine erring brother gain;
Entice him home to be forgiven,

Till he, too, see his Saviour plain.

Or, if before thee in the race,

Urge him with thine advancing tread,
Till, like twin stars, with even pace,
Each lucid course be duly sped.

No fading frail memorial give

To soothe his soul when thou art gone,

But wreaths of hope for ay to live,

And thoughts of good together done.

That so, before the judgment seat,
Though chang'd and glorified each face,
Not unremember'd ye may meet,

For endless ages to embrace.

DR. ISAAC WATTS.]

PSALM XCII.

[Tune-"Winchester New."

SWEET is the work, my God, my King,
To praise Thy Name, give thanks and sing,
To show Thy love by morning light,
And talk of all Thy truth at night.

Sweet is the day of sacred rest;
No mortal cares shall seize my breast;
O may my heart in tune be found,
Like David's harp of solemn sound!
My heart shall triumph in my Lord,
And bless His works, and bless His word,
Thy works of grace, how bright they shine,
How deep Thy councils, how divine!

Fools never raise their thoughts so high,
Like brutes they live, like brutes they die;
Like grass they flourish, till Thy breath
Blast them in everlasting death.

But I shall share a glorious part,
When grace hath well refined my heart,
And fresh supplies of joy are shed,
Like holy oil to cheer my head.

Sin, my worst enemy before,

Shall vex my eyes and ears no more;
My inward foes shall all be slain,

Nor Satan break my peace again.

Then shall I see and hear and know

All I desired or wish'd below,

And every power find sweet employ
In that eternal world of joy!

L

CONTENTMENT.

WILLIAM COWPER.]

PHILIPPIANS, Iv. 11.

[Tune-" Bedford."

FIERCE passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea;

But calm content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.

In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.

Since at His feet my soul has sat
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.

'Art thou a sinner, soul? (He said)
Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!

'If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with Mine;
Think what My love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.

"Tis I appoint thy daily lot,

And I do all things well;

Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with Me to dwell.

'In life, My grace shall strength supply,
Proportioned to thy day;

At death, thou still shalt find Me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away.'