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16 aprile


Bth P. M. 4 lines 79

The heathen mother.
CEE that heuthen mother stand

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With her own maternal hand

'Mid the waves her infaut throw,
2 Hark! I hear the piteous scream!

Frightful monsters seize their prey;
Or the dark and bloody stream

Bears the struggling child away.
3 Fainter now, and fainter still,

Breaks the cry upon the enr;
But the mother's heart is steel;

She, unmoved, thật cry can hear!
4 Send, o send the Bible there,

Let its precepts reach her heart;
She may then her children spare

Act the mother's tender part.

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Missionary meeting.
TESUS! in Christian love we meet,
All in their hand some talent bear,
And lay it humbly, freely tbere.
2 Yes, for thy gospel's cause, with jny,
Our hands, our hearts, we would employ:
O smile upon us, from above,
That bless'd may be our work of love.
3 Then let us feel thy presence near,
Whilst met in holy union bere :
Our zeal, our love, do thou increase,
And let us reap the fruits of peace.

Erry tear
Here igetbet art les

At the price
Est the welcome Care

Lift your beads popular per
Let the title tamil,


3 Through its dark and narrow portal

Once they bore thee to thy rest; There a ray of light immortal, Like a sunbeam from the west,

Burst the shadows And the grave thenceforth was blest.

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4 By the light that thug was given

To the darkness of the tomb-
By the blessed light of heaven,
Gilding scenes of earthly gloom,

Star of gladness,
All our night with joy illume.


6 From our circle, little brother,

Early bast thou pass'd away! But the angels say,-- Another Joing our boly song to-day!

Weep no longer-
Join with them the sacred lay.

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6th P. M. 6 lines 78. The early dead.

, Often droop and lose their bloomPass away in childhood's hour,

To the cold and silent tomb Bodies laid beneath the sod Spirits gone away to God!

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2 Oft along the busy street,

Sad and tearful mourniers go; Mothers for their children weep,

Weep that death has laid the low Nipp'd the buds before their bloom, Hid'them in the silent tomb

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6 Then let us weep as Jesus wept;

Hallow'd by love each gentle sigh;
Since in the grave our Saviour slept,

The Christian need not fear to die.



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9th P. M. 87, 87.
Funeral hymn.
CUISTER, thou wast mild and lovely,

Gentle as the summer breeze,
Pleasant as the air of evening

When it floats among the trees.
2 Peaceful be thy silent slumber,

Peaceful in the grave so low :'
Thou no more wilt join our number,

Thou no more our songs shalt know.
3 Dearest sister, thou hast left us !

Here thy loss we deeply feel;
But 'tis God that hath bereft us,

He can all our sorrow heal.
4 Yet again we hope to meet thee,

When the day of life is fled,
Then, in heaven, with joy to greet thee,

Where no farewell tear is shed.

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C. M.
At a funeral.

Dear spirit, rest thee now;
E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod,

His seal was on thy brow.
2 Dust, to its narrow home beneath;

Soul, to its rest on high;
They that have seen thy look in death,

No more may fear to die.

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