care, and bereft of hope from this world. Conversions became abundant, often in the first instance evidencing intense feeling by bursts of sobbing and tears, deep grief at the discovery of their natural state, mental anguish, mixed with sobs of joy at the recurrence of the name of their Benefactor and Saviour, in the services of the sanctuary. Unused to the refinements of civilized society, which induce us to curb the external expression of our feelings, the Hottentot gives vent to those workings of the heart which are now all roused into action. His dormant affections burst up into life; his renewed faculties assure him he is now a man, and no longer as the brute that perishes.

Whilst the Missionaries are careful not to encourage any reliance on feelings alone, they equally avoid that censure which might tend to check the natural activity of mental exertion, cautioning them to restrain that external overflowing of the heart, and guarding them against the self-delusion of mistaking animal excitement for the real love of the Saviour: and when we see their conduct in the daily relations of life consistent with these warm feelings,-meek and humble in their deportment, distrusting themselves, and watchful against sin, neat in their persons and respectable in their conduct, attending with zeal the ordinances of religion,—we can no longer doubt of the blessing of our Divine Master on missionary exertions.

The Hottentots are particularly fond of psalmody, and have been peculiarly gifted with a talent for that part of Christian worship. Almost every Hottentot possesses a fine ear for music, and a good voice; the males and females naturally falling into first and second, without any kind of instruction.

Situated as many of their places of worship are, in the retired seclusion of some lovely glen or mountain solitude, far from the turmoil of civilized man, the effect of these scenes on a stranger and a Christian is quite overpowering. The sweet melody of

their voices, harmonizing in full unison the praises of that Redeemer, whose light had so lately come to shine into their hearts,―to hear his name repeated in deep tones of adoration from their dark faces,-their calm and peaceful demeanour, together with the sober stillness of their native mountains,—sheds a pathos over the scene, which time can never efface.

On one occasion, I was returning from a morning walk amongst the Kat River mountains, and came unexpectedly on a small circle of Hottentot cottages, and, hearing singing, I gently drew near, when I beheld a group of about twenty persons assembled in an open space, being the families residing in the vicinity. They were just finishing a hymn, when I took my stand at the corner of a cottage, not to interrupt them. An aged man then stood up, and exhorted them in their native language to Christian piety. This was followed by a prayer and another hymn. I afterwards learned this was the usual morning service of these primitive Christians, assembling together as one family. One woman burst into sobbing during the prayer. After the service closed, the whole came up to shake hands with me. On my part, I could not but reflect on the blessing that had been conferred on them, on the value we should attach to these instances of unobtrusive piety, and the incalculable benefits, both in temporal and spiritual things, that are conferred upon the heathen by Christian missions.

HYMN.

RECEIVE this heart, which is not worth Thy taking;

Lord, make it all thy own;

Tired of the world, it is the world forsaking;
Bow it before thy throne!

Worthless the offering, wearied, and cast down.
That at thy footstool lies:

Cast it not off, and thus its miseries crown;
But give it power to rise.

Build

up the ruins of this fallen soul:
Speak, and its woes shall cease:

Calm thou its passions, and its sins control:
Say to the tumult-Peace.

Many the idols it has bowed before :
Wearied it comes to Thee;

To own its sins, and in thine ear to pour
Thanks on the bended knee.

See that it makes completely a surrender,
Full, and without reserve:

Bring all it can, imperfect is the tender:
Lord, let it never swerve!

What is frail man, except thou nerve his arm?
Where is his strength of mind?

Those boasted powers are withered like a charm:
Past like the passing wind.

Wondrous that mercy, ever to be praised.

That bids the sinner rise,

That does not crush the feeble heart when raised,
But sanctifies.

Clothes with a robe of spotless righteousness
The contrite, though defiled;

Takes off his load of sin, and sore distress;
And calls him child.

Come, let us sing on earth the seraph's song!
Glory to Him who died!

All gratitude and heartfelt praise belong

To Jesus crucified.

THE ANTICIPATION.

BY JAMES EDMESTON.

M. W.

Pray ye, therefore, the Lord of the harvest, that he will send forth more labourers into his harvest.-MATT. ix. 38.

Ambition, avarice, luxury, crime,

His evil angels, have gone forth,

And fill'd with dead the rolls of time,
From south to farthest north.

How small is that heroic band,
Whose banner-cry is Peace;
Who go abroad to every land,
That misery may cease:
That there Emanuel may reign,
Bursting the great destroyer's chain :
O may that band increase!

Then shall the thorn become a rose;
The waste, a garden of the Lord;
And where no freshening river flows,
Shall waters gush abroad.

How vast a field the scythe awaits,
The ripening corn is white;
Empires, unbarring all their gates,

The mower's arm invite.

Come, with the harvest songster's voice,

In hymns of heavenly love rejoice,
And God's redeeming might,

Then shall the gospel garner fill,

The glory of the Lord draw nigh,

Peace over all the earth distil,

And praise fill all the sky.

T