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Dean Alford's general poems were never popular, nor do they possess the qualities which secure the "audience fit, though few," which is the consolation of so many who miss wider recognition. His translations show the scholar rather than the poet, and his other poems lack originality of thought and poetic felicity of diction.

The following lines, dated 1862 and entitled "Life's Answer," were contributed to Macmillan's Magazine:

I know not if the dark or bright

Shall be my lot:

If that wherein my hopes delight
Be best or not.

It may be mine to drag for years
Toil's heavy chain :

Or day and night my meat be tears
On bed of pain.

Dear faces may surround my hearth
With smiles and glee:

Or I may dwell alone, and mirth

Be strange to me.

My bark is wafted to the strand

By breath divine:

And on the helm there rests a hand

Other than mine.

One who has known in storms to sail

I have on board:

Above the raving of the gale

I hear my Lord.

He holds me when the billows smite,

I shall not fall:

If sharp, 'tis short; if long, 'tis light;
He tempers all.

Safe to the land-safe to the land,

The end is this:

And then with Him go hand in hand

Far into bliss.

ALFRED H. MILES.

HENRY ALFORD.

1.-IN TOKEN THAT THOU SHALT NOT FEAR

(BAPTISM.)

'N token that thou shalt not fear

IN tokist crucified to own,

We print the cross upon thee here,
And stamp thee His alone.

In token that thou shalt not blush
To glory in His name,

We blazen here upon thy front
His glory and His shame.

In token that thou shalt not flinch
Christ's quarrel to maintain,
But 'neath His banner manfully
Firm at thy post remain ;

In token that thou too shalt tread
The path He travelled by,
Endure the cross, despise the shame,
And sit thee down on high;

Thus outwardly and visibly

We seal thee for His own;

And may the brow that wears His cross
Hereafter share His crown.

II-COME, YE THANKFUL PEOPLE.
(HARVEST.)

OME, ye thankful people, come,

COME

Raise the song of Harvest-home

All is safely gather'd in

Ere the winter storms begin:
God our Maker doth provide

For our wants to be supplied ;-
Come, to God's own temple, come,
Raise the song of Harvest-home!

All this world is God's own field,
Fruit unto His praise to yield;
Wheat and tares together sown,
Unto joy or sorrow grown;
First the blade, and then the ear,
Then the full corn shall appear:
Lord of Harvest, grant that we
Wholesome grain and pure may be.

For the Lord our God shall come,
And shall take His Harvest home;
From His field shall in that day
All offences purge away;
Give His angels charge at last
In the fire the tares to cast;
But the fruitful ears to store
In His garner evermore.

Even so, Lord, quickly come,
Bring Thy final Harvest-home;
Gather Thou Thy people in,
Free from sorrow, free from sin;
There for ever purified,

In Thy garner to abide :

Come, with all Thine angels, come,

Raise the glorious Harvest-home!

III.-TEN THOUSAND TIMES TEN THOUSAND (TWENTY-FIRST SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.)

EN thousand times ten thousand,

En sparkling raiment bright,

The armies of the ransom'd saints

Throng up the steeps of light:

'Tis finish'd-all is finish'd,

Their fight with death and sin; Fling open wide the golden gates And let the victors in.

What rush of Hallelujas

Fills all the earth and sky!
What ringing of a thousand harps
Bespeaks the triumph nigh!
O day, for which Creation

And all its tribes were made!
O joy, for all its former woes
A thousand-fold repaid!

O then what raptured greetings
On Canaan's happy shore,
What knitting sever'd friendships up.
Where partings are no more!
Then eyes with joy shall sparkle

That brimm'd with tears of late;

Orphans no longer fatherless,
Nor widows desolate.

Bring near Thy great salvation

Thou Lamb for sinners slain,

Fill up the roll of Thine elect,
Then take Thy power and reign:

Appear, Desire of nations,—

Thine exiles long for home;

Show in the heavens Thy promised sign; Thou Prince and Saviour, come !

IV.-FORWARD! BE OUR WATCHWORD.

FORW

(PROCESSIONAL.)

ORWARD! be our watchword,
Steps and voices join'd;

Seek the things before us,

Not a look behind;
Burns the fiery pillar

At our army's head;

Who shall dream of shrinking,
By Jehovah led ?
Forward through the desert,

Through the toil and fight;

Jordan flows before us,

Zion beams with light!

Forward, when in childhood
Buds the infant mind;
All through youth and manhood,
Not a thought behind;
Speed through realms of nature,
Climb the steps of grace;

Faint not, till around us

Gleams the Father's face.
Forward, all the life-time,
Climb from height to height,
Till the head be hoary,
Till the eve be light.
Forward, flock of Jesus,
Salt of all the earth,
Till each yearning purpose
Spring to glorious birth;
Sick, they ask for healing,

Blind, they grope for day;

Pour upon the nations

Wisdom's loving ray,

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