SINNERS INVITED TO CHRIST.

COME, ye sinners, poor and wretched,
Weak and wounded, sick and sore;
Jesus ready stands to save you,
Full of pity, joined with power :
He is able,

He is willing: doubt no more.

Come, ye needy, come and welcome; God's free bounty glorify;

True belief and true repentance,

Every grace that brings us nigh,—

Without money

Come to Jesus Christ and buy.

Let not conscience make you linger,
Nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him.
This He gives you-
'Tis the Spirit's rising beam.

Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Bruised and broken by the fall;

If you tarry till you're better,
You will never come at all.

Not the righteous,
Sinners Jesus came to call.

View Him grov'ling in the garden,
Lo, your Maker prostrate lies!
On the bloody tree behold Him;
Hear Him cry before He dies-
"It is finish'd!"

Sinners, will not this suffice?

Lo, the incarnate God ascended,
Pleads the merit of His blood;
Venture on Him, venture wholly,
Let no other trust intrude.

None but Jesus

Can do helpless sinners good.

Saints and angels, join'd in concert,

Sing the praises of the Lamb;
While the blissful seats of heaven
Sweetly echo with His Name.
Hallelujah!

Sinners here may sing the same.

LADY FLORA HASTINGS.

LADY FLORA HASTINGS was the eldest daughter of Earl Moira, afterwards Marquis of Hastings. Her mother was Countess of Loudoun in her own right; she married Earl Moira in 1804. Lady Flora was born at Edinburgh, on the 11th February, 1806. On attaining womanhood, she was appointed lady of the bedchamber to Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent. She died, unmarried, on the 5th July, 1839. A posthumous volume of poems, from her pen, was published in 1841, edited by her sister, the Marchioness of Bute. Edinburgh. 840.

THANK-OFFERING.

IN every place, in every hour,
Whate'er my wayward lot may be;
In joy or grief, in sun or shower,
Father and Lord, I turn to Thee.

Thee, when the incense-breathing flowers
Pour forth the worship of the spring,
With the glad tenants of the bowers
My trembling accents strive to sing.

Thee, when upon the frozen strand
Winter, begirt with storms, descends;
Thee, Lord, I hail, whose gracious hand
O'er all a guardian care extends.

Thee, when the golden harvests yield
Their treasures to increase our store;

Thee, when through ether's gloomy field
The lightnings flash, the thunders roar.

Thee, when athwart the azure sky
Thy starry hosts their mazes lead,
And when Thou sheddest from on high
Thy dewdrops on the flowery mead.

Thee, when my cup of bliss o'erflows;
Thee, when my heart's best joys are fled;
Thee, when my breast exulting glows;

Alike in joy and in distress,

O let me trace Thy hand Divine; Righteous in chast'ning, prompt to bless, Still, Father, may Thy will be mine.

FAITH AND HOPE.

O THOU, who for our fallen race,
Didst lay Thy crown of glory by;
And quit Thy heavenly dwelling-place,
To clothe Thee in mortality.

By whom our vesture of decay,

Its frailty and its pains, were worn; Who, sinless, of our sinful clay

The burden and the griefs hast borne.

Who, stainless, bore our guilty doom;
Upon the Cross to save us bled;
And who, triumphant from the tomb,
Captivity hast captive led;

O teach Thy ransom'd ones to know
Thy love who diedst to set them free ;

And bid their torpid spirits glow

With love which centres all in Thee.

And come, triumphant Victim, come,
In the brightness of Thy holy love :
And make this earth, our purchased home,
The image of Thy courts above.

Dimly, O Lord, our feeble eyes
The dawning rays of glory see;
But brightly shall the morning rise,
Which bids creation bend to Thee.

Rise, Sun of righteousness, and shed
Thy beams of searching light abroad,
That earth may know (her darkness fled)
Her King in Thee, Incarnate God!

And oh, while yet Thy mercy speaks,
So may the words of love prevail,
That when the morn of judgment breaks,
Many may Thine appearing hail !

WILLIAM HENRY HAVERGAL.

THE REV. WILLIAM HENRY HAVERGAL was born in 1792. He was educated at St. Edmund's Hall, Oxford, where he graduated M. A. in 1819. He took orders in 1816. In 1829, he became Rector of Astley, Worcestershire, and, in 1845, was appointed Rector of St. Nicholas, Worcester, and Honorary Canon of Worcester Cathedral. In 1860, he accepted the Rectory of Shareshill, near Wolverhampton. Mr. Havergal is the author of two volumes on Scripture history, and of occasional sermons. As a composer of sacred music, he occupies a distinguished place. He has on three occasions gained the Gresham prize for his Church services. His musical works consist of "A History of the Old Hundred Psalm Tune,” “Old Church Psalmody," and "One Hundred Psalm and Hymn Tunes." The proceeds of his musical works he has generously contributed to public institutions. The following composi tions have been contributed by Mr. Havergal to the present work.

MISSIONARY HYMN.

(Contributed.)

SHOUT, O Earth! from silence waking,
Tune with joy thy varied tongue :
Shout! as when, from chaos breaking,
Sweetly flow'd thy natal song.

Shout! for thy Creator's love

Sends redemption from above.

Downwards, from His star-paved dwelling,

Comes the incarnate Son of God: Countless voices thrilling, swelling, Tell the triumphs of His blood. Shout! He comes thy tribes to bless, With His spotless righteousness.

See His glowing hand uplifted!
Clustering bounties drop around:
Rebels e'en are richly gifted;

Pardon, peace, and joy abound.
Shout, O earth! and let thy song
Ring the vaulted heavens along!

Call Him blessed! on thy mountains,
In thy wilds and citied plains:
Call Him blessed! where thy fountains
Speak in softly murmuring strains.
Let thy captives, let thy kings,

Join the lyre of thousand strings.

Blessed Lord, and Lord of blessings !
Pour Thy quickening gifts abroad;
Raptured tongues, Thy love confessing,
Shall extol the living God.

Blessed, blessed, blessèd Lord!

Heaven shall chant no other word!

"GATHER THE LAMBS."

Isaiah xl. 11.

(Contributed.)

To praise our Shepherd's care,

His wisdom, love and might, Your loudest, loftiest songs prepare, And bid the world unite!

Supremely good and great,

He tends his blood-bought fold;

He stoops, though throned in highest state, The feeblest to uphold.