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Thy saints proclaim thee King; and in their hearts
Thy title is engraven with a pen
Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love.
Thy saints proclaim thee King, and thy delay
Gives courage to their foes, who could they see
The dawn of thy last advent, long desired,
Would creep into the bowels of the hills,
And flee for safety to the falling rocks.
Come then, and added to thy many crowns
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest,
Due to thy last and most effectual work,
Thy work fulfilled,—the conquest of a world.”




“Oh, Sister dear, the pilgrim-way seems strait, and long,

and steep,

And though thou say’st its paths are peace, yet oft I

see thee weep, And storms beat rudely round thine head, and tempests

roughly blow; Sister, where leads this toilsome path, and wherefore

dost thou go ?

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“ Ada, I know thou lov'st to walk beside the flowing

stream, Thou lov'st to welcome with thy song the sun's first

rising beam, Thou lov’st to guide thy fairy bark across the smooth

clear lake, And with the music of thy voice deep echoes to awake.


Bright are earth's streams, sweet sister mine, and

beautiful her flowers, And lovely are the rainbow hues, brought forth by

summer showers ; But the immortal soul of man craves purer, higher

bliss, More lasting joys than can be found in such a world as


56 Ada, the track thou askest of, the pilgrim's narrow

road, Leads on to the celestial land, the angels' bright abode : Prophets and kings, in ages past, its upward path have

trod, Nor rested till they reached their home, the city of our


• There is a river in that land, whose waters never fail, A tree of life, whose fruit shall bloom, untouched by

wintry gale; Treasures which never can corrupt, riches which will

not fly,

And, dearer far, eternal love, which cannot change or


“Yes, Ada, that steep rugged road, from which so many

stray, Leads


to Heaven, where night is lost in everlasting day; Though darkly now, as through a glass, I see its distant

shore, E’en that dim sight hath made me prize the joys of

earth no more.

“ Its paths are peaceful, Ada mine, and pleasant are

its ways,

All unattractive as they seem to the poor worldling's

gaze, With a kind Saviour's hand to guide, a Saviour's smile

to cheer, What is there, oh, what can there be, a Christian needs

to fear ?

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Thou say’st, I weep. Ah, well I may, so oft I turn aside, So oft I yield to murmuring thoughts, to discontent,

and pride, But Jesus has atoned for all His blood is all my plea, And while I sorrow, I rejoice, since He has died for me. “It was not ever with me thus, for once, like thee, I

thought The pilgrim-way was full of pain, with sadness only

fraught; I saw our sainted mother die, and light broke on my

mind, Oh, fragrant is the memory which she hath left behind. “She told me all her journeyings, and sweetly beamed


her eye,

As, with a calm untroubled faith, she look'd beyond the

sky; The golden towers of heaven were near,-its pearly

gates in view, With her last breath she bid me come, and charged me

to bring you. “I ask thee by our mother's love-no-by a holier plea, By all the Lord of glory bore to save and rescue thee; Together let us tread this path, and pilgrims, hand in

hand, Together seek a better home in our Immanuel's land.”

I listened, but I heard no voice—Ada made no reply,
Save by the glistening tears which fell from her up-

lifted eye,

But, while I still look'd anxiously, behold the orphan

pair Knelt low before a wicket-gate-It was the gate of prayer.

J. T.


No. IX.

'I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.'

Observe the assertion here made ; it is not merely that God the Father is Almighty, the Maker of heaven and earth : it is put in a subjective form, a declaration of the individual working of our own mind. I believe in God.' Now, remember in whose presence this declaration is made ; in that of the heart-searching God. Remember, too, the fate of him who fell down dead in the congregation, because he had not lied unto men, but unto God; and then realise how solemn a moment it is, when the whole assembly repeats, “I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth. The worldling, engrossed with this world's cares,

who says to the fine gold, 'thou art my confidence,' he repeats it, and, as he does so, turns perhaps reverently to the east, but surely a lie is in his right hand, for he is hastening after another God. The votary of pleasure repeats it, and then gracefully bows her knee at the mention of the Redeemer's name ; but does she believe that God is the Maker of heaven and earth ? If so, he made all those bright gay things on which her heart is fixed : he made the eye that rejoices in their beauty, the ear that delights in their harmony. They can answer no purpose, but that for which he crested

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