GEM. 8s, 78.

C. H. KENT.

PRAISE the Saviour, ye who know him: Who can tell how much we owe him? Gladly let us render to him

All we are and have!

2 With his blood the Lord has bought them;
When they knew him not, he sought them,
And from all their wanderings brought them;
His the praise alone.

3 Jesus is the name that charms us;
He for conflicts fits and arms us;
Nothing moves, and nothing harms us,
When we trust in him.

4 Trust in him, ye saints, for ever;
He is faithful, changing never,
Neither force nor guile can sever
Those he loves from him.

Thomas Kelly.

793

Heb. 13:8.

SAINTS in glory, we together Know the song that ceases never; Song of songs thou art, O Saviour,

All that endless day.

2 Come, ye angels, round us gather, While to Jesus we draw nearer; In his throne he 'll seat for ever

Those for whom he died.

3 Underneath his throne a river,
Clear as crystal, flows for ever,
Like his fullness, failing never:
Hail, enthronéd Lamb!

4 Oh, the unsearchable Redeemer! Shoreless ocean, sounded never! Yesterday, to-day, for ever,

Jesus Christ, the same.

Nehemiah Adams.

lengthen

Across this little landscape of our life;

Sealed on the cross, to us this grace accords;

see;

The blessings of our pilgrimage are failing,

We would not mourn them, for we go to thee.

4 We would see Jesus-this is all we're needing,

o'er us

Can make us tremble, while this star affords

A steady light along the path before usFaith's full assurance that we are the Lord's.

In the dread hour of life's fast loosening cords;

No pangs of death shall even then appal us; Death we shall vanquish, for we are the

Lord's.

C. T. Astley, tr.

false, and love decays,

THOUGH Sorrows rise and dangers roll,
In waves of darkness o'er my soul;
Though friends are false, and love decays,
And few and evil are my days;
Though conscience, fiercest of my foes,
Swells with remembered guilt my woes;
Yet ev’n in nature's utmost ill,

I love thee, Lord, I love thee still!

2 Though Sinai's curse, in thunder dread,
Peals o'er mine unprotected head,
And memory points, with busy pain,
To grace and mercy given in vain;
Till nature, shrinking in the strife,
Would fly to hell to 'scape from life;
Though every thought has power to kill,
I love thee, Lord, I love thee still!

3 Oh, by the pangs thyself hast borne,
The ruffian's blow, the tyrant's scorn,
By Sinai's curse, whose dreadful doom
Was buried in thy guiltless tomb;
By these my pangs, whose healing smart,
Thy grace hath planted in my heart-
I know, I feel thy bounteous will,
Thou lov'st me, Lord, thou lov'st me still!

Reginald Heber.

JESUS!-the very thought is sweet;
In that dear name all heart-joys meet;
But sweeter than sweet honey far
The glimpses of his presence are.
No word is sung more sweet than this:
No name is heard more full of bliss;
No thought brings sweeter comfort nigh,
Than Jesus, Son of God most high.
2 Jesus, the hope of souls forlorn,
How good to them for sin that mourn!
To them that seek thee, oh, how kind!
But what art thou to them that find?
Jesus, thou sweetness, pure, and blest,
Truth's fountain, light of souls distressed,
Surpassing all that heart requires,
Exceeding all that soul desires!

3 No tongue of mortal can express,
No letters write, its blessedness:
Alone who hath thee in his heart
Knows, love of Jesus, what thou art.
We follow Jesus now, and raise
The voice of prayer, the hymn of praise,
That he at last may make us meet
With him to gain the heavenly seat.

J. M. Neale, tr.