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Though the sea be deep and wide,
Though a passage seem denied;
Fearless let us still proceed,
Since the Lord vouchsafes to lead.

Though it seems the gloom of night,
Though we see no ray of light;
Since the Lord himself is there,
'Tis not meet that we should fear.

Night with him is never night,
Where he is, there all is light;
When he calls us, why delay?
They are happy who obey.
Be it ours, then, while we're here,
Him to follow without fear!
Where he calls us, there to go,
What he bids us, that to do.


This cause is the cause of God against sin and Satan. God is our helper, and Christ, who is our king, is also our leader and commander. Like David, his type and figure, he stands not idly by. He will not be a spectator merely. He is the Captain of our salvation. He leads the columns and directs the movements of his sacramental host. He

is still the “captain of the host of the Lord,” as when he revealed himself to Joshua; and his presence is still power and victory. His voice is heard in the thickest of the fight, shouting, “Come after me,” “Follow me.” His sword, which is the sword of the Spirit, flashes bright beams of light to his friends, and of terror to his enemies. And his banner “woven of the precious fabric of love,” inscribed with the symbol of the dove, and having for its motto “peace on earth, and good will to men," is that sign under which none ever marched to dishonour and defeat.

The cause may be driven back, but not destroyed. It may be so assailed in one point, as even to fall back and become involved in confusion and rout. Satan may gain temporary and great advantage as now in India, by the explosion of his long-matured plans, and his magazines of dreadful wrath. He may even appear to reign in undisturbed triumph as he does upon the ruins of buried Christianity in Africa, and in the East. But that buried Christianity shall yet be raised to a glorious resurrection. God has not left himself without witnesses to his truth and faithfulness. He has not forgotten his covenant. The last remains of martyred saints lie buried in the soil of India and of Africa, and of Asia Minor-lands planted and harvested by Apostolic missionaries— pledges of their future restoration, seeds of a future harvest, and seals of an everlasting covenant. Like withered trunks and dismembered branches of the tree of life, these long forgotten witnesses shall, with the scent of living water, and the dew of divine grace, live and flourish again in immortal vigour. Look we to Africa! There

The lions prowl around, their graves to guard,

And Moslem prayers profane
At morn and eve come sounding: yet unscared

The Holy Shades remain:
Cyprian, thy chief of watchmen, wise and bold,

Trusting the lore of his own loyal heart,
And Cyprian's Master, as in age high-souled,

Yet choosing as in youth the better part. There, too, unwearied Austin, thy keen gaze

On Atlas' steep, a thousand years and more, Dwells, waiting for the first rekindling rays,

When Truth upon the solitary shore For the fallen West may light his beacon as of yore.

Voice of the wise of old!

Go breathe thy thrilling whispers now,
In cells where learned eyes late vigils hold,

And teach proud science where to veil her brow.
Voice of Christ's martyred clan!

Now while the church for combat arms, Calmly do thou confirm her awful ban,

Thy words to be her conquering, soothing charms.

Voice of Christ's fearless saints!

Ring like a trump, where gentle hearts Beat high for truth, but, doubting, cower and faint: Tell them the hour is come, and they must take their


Let that trump, brethren, arouse the Israel of God, while it shakes with terror and dismay the enemies of the truth. Let it assure us that the Lord of hosts is with us, and that these walls of Jericho, these walls of China, these Moslem revolts, these Satanic outbursts of the great adversary, who sees that he has but a short time—shall only redound to the greater glory of our Immanuel, and the greater triumph of his saints.

Bide thou thy time!
Watch with meek eyes the race of pride and crime,
Sit in the gate, and be the heathen's jest,

Smiling and self-possest.
O thou, to whom is pledged a victor's sway,

Bide thou the victor's day!

Patience is gain;
Wait the bright Advent that shall loose thy chain!
E’en now the shadows break, and gleams divine

Edge the dim distant line.
When thrones are trembling, and earth's great ones quail,

True Seed! thou shalt prevail!

Are there not even now signs of an approaching harvest? Has not the germ of many a seed manifested its vitality and sprouted up in the blade, the ear, and the ripened grain, o'er many a palmy plain. God's way is now most surely in the East. India and China are now the centre of divine operations. God had made them a spectacle to the world.

The Ark of God is in the field,
Like clouds around the alien armies sweep;

Each by his spear, beneath his shield,
In cold and dew the anointed warriors sleep.

And can it be thou liest awake,
Sworn watchman, tossing on thy couch of down,

And doth thy recreant heart not ache,
To hear the sentries round the leaguered town?

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