And we, where'er our lot is cast,
While life, and thought, and feeling last,
Through all our years, in every place,
Will bless Thee for Thy boundless grace.

NOEL.

A FRIEND DEPARTED.

THOU art gone to the grave; but we will not deplore

thee;

Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, The SAVIOUR has passed through its portals before

thee;

And the lamp of His love was thy guide through the gloom.

Thou art gone to the grave; we no longer behold thee,
Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side;
But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee;
And sinners may hope, since the sinless has died.

Thou art gone to the grave; and its mansion forsaking,
Perhaps thy tired spirit in doubt lingered long;
But the sunshine of Heaven beamed bright on thy
waking,

And the song which thou heard'st was the seraphim's

song.

Thou art gone to the grave; but 'twere wrong to deplore thee,

When GOD was thy ransom, thy guardian, thy guide: He gave thee, He took thee, and soon will restore thee, Where death hath no sting, since the SAVIOUR has

died.

BISHOP HEBER.

JESUS DIED.

WITH erring heart I went astray
In paths of sin, and wandered wide,
Till Mercy met me on my way,
And softly whispered "JESUS died."

Offended at the sudden sound,
Indignantly I turned aside;

But still the voice was heard around,
And still it whispered "JESUS died.”

Then Justice crossed my path, and stood
Erect and stern to quell my pride;
His glittering sword was bathed in blood:
Ah! well for me that JESUs died!

"Come forth, thou traitor to the LORD,"
His voice in thund'ring accents cried :
Oppressed, I sank beneath the word.
And faintly answered "JESUS died."

Trembling I spake; but Justice seemed
In haste the blood-stained sword to hide :
Grace from his altered visage beamed;
And then I shouted "JESUS died."

MOGRIDGE.

RACHEL WEEPING.

WEEP, weep not o'er thy children's tomb,
O, Rachel, weep not so:
The bud is cropt by martyrdom;
The flower in Heaven shall blow.

Infants of death! the murderer's knife
Hath missed its deadly aim;
The GOD for whom they gave their life,
For them to suffer came.

Though evil were their days and few,
Baptized in blood and pain,

He knows them whom they never knew,
And they shall live again.

Then weep not o'er thy children's tomb,

O, Rachel, weep not so:

The bud is cropt by martyrdom;

The flower in Heaven shall blow.

BISHOP HEBER.

THE STAR FROM THE EAST.

BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid;
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our Infant REDEEMER is laid.

Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining,
Low lies His bed with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore Him, in slumber reclining,

Maker, and Monarch, and SAVIOUR of all.

Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation,

Vainly with gold would His favour secure; Richer by far is the heart's adoration,

Dearer to GOD are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid;

Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our Infant REDEEMER is laid.

BISHOP HEBER.

LOOKING UNTO JESUS.

IN evil long I took delight,
Unawed by shame or fear,
Till a new object struck my sight,
And stopped my wild career.

I saw ONE hanging on a tree,
In agonies and blood;

Who fixed His languid eyes on me,
As near His cross I stood.

Oh! never, till my latest breath,
Can I forget that look;

It seemed to charge me with His death,
Though not a word He spoke.

My conscience felt and owned the guilt,
And plunged me in despair;

I saw my sins His blood had spilt,
And helped to nail Him there.

Alas! I knew not what I did,
But now my tears are vain;
Where shall my trembling soul be hid?
For I the LORD have slain.

A second look He gave, which said,

I freely all forgive;

My blood is for thy ransom paid;

I die that thou may'st live.