JEHOVAH ISID KEVU.

REV. R. M. M'CHEYNE

"The Lord our righteousness."

(THE WATCHWORD OF THE REFORMERS.)

I ONCE was a stranger to grace and to God,
I knew not my danger, and felt not my load;
Though friends spoke in rapture of Christ on the tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu was nothing to me.

I oft read with pleasure, to soothe or engage,
Isaiah's wild measure and John's simple page;
But e'en when they pictured the blood-sprinkled tree,
Jehovah Tsidkenu seem'd nothing to me.

Like tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,

I wept when the waters went over his soul;
Yet thought not that my sins had nail'd him to the tree
Jehovah Tsidkenu-'twas nothing to me.

When free grace awoke me, by light from on high, Then legal fears shook me, I trembled to die;

No refuge, no safety in self could I see,—
Jehovah Tsidkenu my Saviour must be.

My terrors all vanished before the sweet name; My guilty fears banished, with boldness I came To drink at the fountain, life-giving and free,Jehovah Tsidkenu is all things to me.

Jehovah Tsidkenu! my treasure and boast,
Jehovah Tsidkenu! I ne'er can be lost;

In thee I shall conquer by flood and by field,
My cable, my anchor, my breast-plate and shield!

Even treading the valley, the shadow of death, This "watchword" shall rally my faltering breath; For while from life's fever my God sets me free, Jehovah Tsidkenu, my death song shall be.

"I AM DEBIOR."

REV. R. M. M'CHEYNE,

WHEN this passing world is done,
When has sunk yon glaring sun,

When we stand with Christ in glory,

Looking o'er life's finished story,

Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

When I hear the wicked call

On the rocks and hills to fall.
When I see them start and shrink
On the fiery deluge brink,

Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

When I stand before the throne
Dressed in beauty not my own,
When I see thee as thou art,
Love thee with unsinning heart,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know-
Not till then-how much I owe.

When the praise of heaven I hear,
Loud as thunders to the ear,
Loud as many waters' noise,
Sweet as harp's melodious voice,
Then, Lord, shall I fully know—
Not till then-how much I owe.

Even on earth, as through a glass
Darkly, let thy glory pass,

Make forgiveness feel so sweet,

Make thy Spirit's help so meet,

Even on earth, Lord, make me know

Something of how much I owe.

Chosen not for good in me,

Wakened up from wrath to flee,
Hidden in the Saviour's side,

By the Spirit sanctified,

Teach me, Lord, on earth to show, By my love, how much I owe.

Oft I walk beneath the cloud,
Dark as midnight's gloomy shroud;
But, when fear is at the height,
Jesus comes, and all is light;

Blessed Jesus! bid me show

Doubting saints how much I owe.

When in flowery paths I tread,
Oft by sin I'm captive led;

Oft I fall-but still arise

The Spirit comes the tempter flies;
Blessed Spirit! bid me show
Weary sinners all I owe.

Oft the nights of sorrow reign—
Weeping, sickness, sighing, pain;
But a night thine anger burns-
Morning comes and joy returns!
God of comforts! bid me show
To thy poor, how much I owe.

GIDEOK'S WAR-SOLE.

DAV D VEDDER.

OH! Israel, thy hills are resounding,
The cheeks of thy warriors are pale;
For the trumpets of Midian are sounding,
His legions are closing their mail,
His battle-steeds prancing and bounding,
His veterans whetting their steel!

His standard in haughtiness streaming,
Above his encampment appears;
An ominous radiance is gleaming,
Around from his forest of spears:

The eyes of our maidens are beaming,-
But, ah! they are beaming through tears;

Our matron survivors are weeping,

Their suckling a prey to the sword; The blood of our martyrs is steeping

The fanes where their fathers adored; The foe and the alien are reaping

Fields,-vineyards,-the gift of the Lord!