WILLIAM HAMILTON DRUMMOND, D.D. Ere these received their name or birth, The first-the last-the greatest-best. When Faith and Hope, from earth set free, Eternal daughter of the skies, She mounts to heaven, and never dies. 207 THE COMING OF THE LORD. A VOICE from the desert comes awful and shrill : "The Lord is advancing-prepare ye the way; The word of Jehovah He comes to fulfil, And o'er the dark world pour the splendour of day. Bring down the proud mountain, though towering to heaven, The rough path and crooked be made smooth and even, The beams of salvation His progress illume, VICTORY THROUGH CHRIST. GIVE thanks to God the Lord! The victory is ours; And hell is overcome By Christ's triumphant powers. The monster sin In chains is bound, And death has felt His mortal wound. Oppress'd by guilt and woe, The host of night To shun the light. Now o'er the vanquish'd tomb, That pours its streaming rays, Our steps to God. Give thanks to God the Lord! The victory is won ; Exulting raise, The Saviour's praise. RETIREMENT. O HAD I the wings of a dove, There 'mid the lone wilds of creation, No passion with swift-scorching levin, While sounds, with high ecstasy filling JOHN DRYDEN. ONE of the greatest of British poets, JOHN DRYDEN, was born at Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire, on the 9th August, 1631. He was educated at Westminster School, and Trinity College, Cambridge. He pursued the career of a poet and man of letters, under a variety of external circumstances. His poems, plays, and prose works have been edited by Sir Walter Scott, in eighteen octavo volumes. Dryden died on the 1st May, 1700. He was interred in Westminster Abbey. His great work is his translation of Virgil. CREATOR SPIRIT! BY WHOSE AID. CREATOR Spirit! by whose aid The world's foundations first were laid, Come, visit every pious mind; O Source of uncreated light! Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Thou strength of His Almighty hand, Whose power doth heaven and earth command. Who dost the gift of tongues dispense, Refine and purge our earthly parts, P Our frailties help, and vice control, Chase from our minds the infernal foe, Make us eternal truths receive, Immortal honours, endless fame Who for lost man's redemption died; Eternal Paraclete, to Thee. JAMES EDMESTON. THE author of nearly two thousand hymns, JAMES EDMESTON was born at Wa London, on the roth September, 1791. His youth was spent at Hackney. He was arti an architect in his sixteenth year. In 1816, he commenced business as an architect, on ha account. He now resides at Homerton, a suburb of the metropolis. In rart, be p small volume of poems. His subsequent publications are "Sacred Lyrics," 1 two volumes; the "Cottage Minstrel," 1821, 12mo; "Missionary Hymns, 1824: “ Hom 1844; "Sonnets," 1845; "Hymns for the Chamber of Sickness;" "Closet Hy Poems," and "Infant Breathings," 1846. In 1847, the greater portion of Mr. Edest lyrical compositions were collected in a single volume. The following compositions t been here printed under Mr. Edmeston's revision. EVENING HYMN. SAVIOUR, breathe an evening blessing, Ere repose our spirits seal; Thou canst save, and Thou canst heal. Though the night be dark and dreary, Though destruction walk around us, Should swift death this night o'ertake us, THE SABBATH EVENING. Is there a time when moments flow A Sabbath eve in summer tide. Oh, then the setting sun smiles fair; And then the peace that Jesus beams, The life of grace, the death of sin, With nature's placid woods and streams, Is peace without, and peace within. Delightful scene!-a world at rest, If heaven be ever felt below, May cause a heart on earth to know Some foretaste of unmingled bliss. |