Come, then, with all Thy quickening power,
With one awakening smile,
And bid the serpent's trail no more
Thy beauteous realms defile.

Thine was the cross, with all its fruit
Of grace and peace divine;
Be Thine the crown of glory now,
The palm of victory Thine.

THE MAN OF SORROWS. APILGRIM through this lonely world, The blessed Saviour pass'd;

A mourner

all His life was He,

A dying Lamb at last.
That tender heart that felt for all,
For all its life-blood gave;

It found

Save only in the grave.

on earth no resting-place,

Such

was our Lord-and shall we fear

The

Or love

cross with all its scorn,

a faithless, evil world

That wreathed His brow with thorn?

No; facing all its frowns or smiles,

Like Him obedient still,

W

e homeward press, through storm or calm, To yon celestial hill.

Dead to the world, with Him who died

To win our hearts, our love;

We, risen with our risen Head,
In spirit dwell above.

By faith, His boundless glories there,
Our wond'ring eyes behold;
Those glories which eternal years
Shall never all unfold.

This fills our hearts with deep desire

To lose ourselves in love,

Bears all our hopes from earth away,

And fixes them above.

THE HEART BIDDING FAREWELL TO THE WORLD.

THOU vain, deceitful world, farewell!
Thine idle joys no more we love;

By faith in brighter worlds we dwell,
In spirit find our home above.

Jesus, we go with Thee, to taste

Of joy supreme that never dies;
Our feet still press the weary waste,

Our heart, our home are in the skies.

And oh while unto heaven's high hill
The toilsome path of life we tread,
Around us, loving Father, still

Thy circling wings of mercy spread.

From day to day, from hour to hour,
Oh, may our rising spirits prove
The strength of Thine almighty power,
The sweetness of Thy saving love.

THE CHURCH CHEERED WITH THE HOPE OF
HER LORD'S RETURN.

BRIDE of the Lamb, awake! awake!

Why sleep for sorrow now?

The hope of glory, Christ is thine,

A child of glory thou.

Thy spirit, through the lonely night
From earthly joy apart,

Hath sigh'd for one that's far away,-
The Bridegroom of thy heart.

But see, the night is waning fast,

The breaking

morn is near,

And Jesus comes with voice of love
Thy drooping heart to cheer.

He comes, for oh, His yearning heart
No more can bear delay,
To scenes of full unmingled joy,
To call His Bride away.

This earth, the scene of all His woe,
A homeless wild to thee,

Full soon upon His heavenly throne
Its rightful King shall see.

Thou too shalt reign, He will not wear
His crown of joy alone;
And earth His royal Bride shall see
Beside Him on the throne.

Then weep no more; 'tis all thine own—

His crown, His joy Divine;

And, sweeter far than all beside,

He, He Himself is thine.

REST FOR THE WEARY. WHERE, in this waste, unlovely world, May weary hearts, opprest

With thoughts of sorrows yet to come,

In calm

assurance rest?

In Him who, of the Father's love,
The gracious herald came,
Of mercy to a guilty world,
Of blessing through His name.

In Him who, with unsullied feet
And guileless spirit, trod
The paths of this unquiet earth,
In solitude with God.

In Jesus who, ascended now,
Looks backward on the past,
Feels for His suff'ring members here,
And loves us to the last.

'Tis only in His changeless love,
Our waiting spirits, blest
With the sweet hope of glory, find
Their dwelling-place of rest.

In the same track where He of old
The dreary desert trod,

Led onward by His grace, we learn
The fulness of our God.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS.

CHILDREN of light, arise and shine!
Your birth, your hopes are all divine ;
Your home is in the skies;

Oh, then, for heavenly glory born,
Look down on all with holy scorn
That earthly spirits prize.

With Christ, with glory full in view,
Oh, what is all the world to you?
What is it all but loss?

Come on, then, cleave no more to earth,
Nor wrong your high celestial birth,
Ye pilgrims of the cross!

The cross is ours; we bear it now;
But did not He beneath it bow,

And suffer there at last?
All that we feel can Jesus tell;
His gracious soul remembers well
The sorrows of the past.

O blessed Lord,

we yet shall reign,

Redeem'd from sorrow, sin, and pain,
And walk with Thee in white.
We suffer now, but oh, at last
We'll bless Thee, Lord, for all the past,

And own

Our cross was light.

University of Edinburgh.

DAVID DICKSON.

In 161, he was ordained minister of Irvine; in 1640, he became Professor of Divinity at A DISTINGUISHED Presbyterian minister, DAVID DICKSON, was born at Glasgow, in 1583. Glasgow; and, after an interval of ten years, he was preferred to the Chair of Theology in the He was deprived of his office at the Restoration, for refusing the death took place in 1663. Dickson published commentaries on [Scripture, and other theological works. The well-known hymn, "O Mother dear, Jerusalem," presented here in an abridged form, was adapted by him from an older version, of which the authorship is unknown.

cath of supremacy. His various portions of

THE NEW JERUSALEM.
O MOTHER dear, Jerusalem !
When shall I come to thee?

When

shall my sorrows have an end,
Thy joys when shall I see?
happy harbour of God's saints!

In thee no sickness is at all,

No hurt, nor any sore;
There is no death, nor ugly sight,
But life for evermore.

No dimmish clouds o'ershadow thee,
No dull nor darksome night!
But every soul shines as the sun,

For God Himself gives light.