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Chap. iii. 17, 18.

though the fig-tree should no burden bear, JL Though vines delude the promise of the year; Yet though the olive should not yield her oil, Nor the parched glebe reward the peasant's toil; Though the tired ox beneath his labors fall, And herds in millions perish from the stall! Yet shall my grateful strings Forever praise Thy name, Forever Thee proclaim The everlasting God, the mighty King of kings.



'""T'HOU canst accomplish all things, Lord of might:

JL And every thought is naked to Thy sight.
But O, Thy ways are wonderful, and lie
Beyond the deepest reach of mortal eye.
Oft have I heard of Thine Almighty power,
But never saw Thee till this dreadful hour.
Overwhelmed with shame, the Lord of life I see,
Abhor myself, and give my soul to Thee.
Nor shall my weakness tempt Thine anger more;
Man is not made to question, but adore.

E, Young


BUT on before me swept the moonlit stream
That had entranced me with his memories,
A thousand battles, and one burst of Psalms —
Rolling his waters to the Indian sea
Beyond Balsara, and Elana far,
Nigh to two thousand miles from Ararat .
And his full music took a finer tone,
And sang me something of a gentler stream
That rolls forever to another shore,
Whereof our God Himself is the sole sea,
And Christ's dear love the pulsing of the tide,
And His sweet Spirit is the breathing wind.
Something it chanted, too, of exiled men,
On the sad bank of that strange river, Life,
Hanging the harp of their deep heart-desires
To rest upon the willow of the Cross,
And longing for the everlasting hills,
Mount Sion, and Jerusalem of God.
And then I thought I knelt, and kneeling heard
Nothing — save only the long wash of waves,
And one sweet Psalm that sobbed for evermore.

W. Alexander


if: LXX


IT came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth

To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace to the earth, goodwill to men
From Heaven's all-gracious King":
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven sky they come

With peaceful wings unfurled; And still their heavenly music floats

O'er all the weary world: Above its sad and lowly plains

They bend on heavenly wing, And ever o'er its Babel sounds

The blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife

The world has suffered long; Beneath the angel strain have rolled

Two thousand years of wrong; And men, at war with men, hear not

The love-song which they bring: O! hush the noise, ye men of strife,

And hear the angels sing!

And ye, beneath life's crushing load Whose forms are bending low,

Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow;
Look now! for glad and golden hours

Come swiftly on the wing:
O! rest beside the weary road,

And hear the angels sing!

For lo! the days are hastening on,

By prophet-bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years

Comes round the age of gold;
When Peace shall over all the earth

Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world send back the song

Which now the angels sing.

E. H. Sears


WHEN, marshalled on the nightly plain,
The glittering hosts bestud the sky;
One star alone of all the train
Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark ! hark! to God the chorus breaks

From every host, from every gem; But one alone the Saviour speaks,

It is the star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark,

The ocean yawned, — and rudely blowed The wind that tossed my foundering bark:

Deep horror then my vitals froze,

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem,

When suddenly a star arose,
It was the star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all;

It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm, and danger's thrall,

It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moored, my perils o'er,
I'll sing first in night's diadem,

Forever and forevermore,

The star! the star of Bethlehem!

H. Kirke White



HOW pleasant to me thy deep blue wave,
O sea of Galilee!

For the Glorious One, who came to save,
Has often stood by thee.

Fair are the lakes in the land I love,

Where pine and heather grow; But thou hast loveliness far above

What Nature can bestow.

It is not that the wild gazelle

Comes down to drink thy tide;
But He that was pierced to save from hell

Oft wandered by thy side.

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