were those of William Williams and Ann Griffiths, of Charles Wesley, of Isaac Watts-indeed the very tongues of fire that appeared at Jerusalem took on the Cymric speech, and sang the burning lyrics of the poet-saints. And in their revival joy Calvinistic Wales sang the New Testament with more of its Johannic than of its Pauline texts. The covenant of peace-Christ and His Cross-is the theme of all their hymns.

"HERE BEHOLD THE TENT OF MEETING.”

Dyma Babell y cyfarfod.

This hymn, written by Ann Griffiths, is entitled "Love Eternal," and praises the Divine plan to satisfy the Law and at the same time save the sinner. The first stanza gives an idea of the thought:

Here behold the tent of meeting,

In the blood a peace with heaven,
Refuge from the blood-avengers,

For the sick a Healer given.
Here the sinner nestles safely

At the very Throne divine,

And Heaven's righteous law, all holy,
Still on him shall smile and shine.

"HOW SWEET THE COVENANT TO REMEMBER."

Bydd melus gofio y cyfammod.

This, entitled "Mysteries of Grace," is also from the pen of Ann Griffiths. It has the literal

ness noticeable in much of the Welsh religious poetry, and there is a note of pietism in it. The two last stanzas are these:

He is the great Propitiation

Who with the thieves that anguish bare;
He nerved the arms of His tormentors

To drive the nails that fixed Him there.
While He discharged the sinner's ransom,
And made the Law in honor be,
Righteousness shone undimmed, resplendent,
And me the Covenant set free.

My soul, behold Him laid so lowly,

Of peace the Fount, of Kings the Head,
The vast creation in Him moving
And He low-lying with the dead!
The Life and portion of lost sinners,
The marvel of heaven's seraphim,
To sea and land the God Incarnate

The choir of heaven cries, "Unto Him!"

Ann Griffiths' earliest hymn will be called her sweetest. Fortunately, too, it is more poetically translated. It was before the vivid consciousness and intensity of her religious experience had given her spiritual writings a more involved and mystical expression.

My soul, behold the fitness
Of this great Son of God,
Trust Him for life eternal
And cast on Him thy load,
A man-touched with the pity
Of every human woe,

A God to claim the kingdom

And vanquish every foe.

This stanza, the last of her little poem on the "Eternal Fitness of Jesus," came to her when, returning from an exciting service, filled with thoughts of her unworthiness and of the glorious beauty of her Saviour, she had turned down a sheltered lane to pray alone. There on her knees in communion with God her soul felt the spirit of the sacred song. By the time she reached home she had formed it into words.

The first and second stanzas, written later, are these:

Great Author of salvation

And providence for man,
Thou rulest earth and heaven
With Thy far-reaching plan.
Today or on the morrow,
Whatever woe betide,

Grant us Thy strong assistance,
Within Thy hand to hide.

What though the winds be angry,
What though the waves be high
While wisdom is the Ruler,

The Lord of earth and sky?
What though the food of evil
Rise stormily and dark?
No soul can sink within it;

God is Himself the ark.

Mrs. Ann Griffiths, of Dolwar Fechan, Montgomeryshire, was born in 1770, and died in 1805. "She remains," says Dr. Parry, her fellow-country