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

CHRISTIANA AND FAMILY AT THE WICKET

GATE.

BY BERNARD BARTON.

"With that the keeper of the gate did marvel, saying, 'What! is she now become a pilgrim, who but a while ago abhorred that life?' Then she bowed her head, and said, 'Yea, and so are these, my sweet babes, also.""