HYMN.

LMIGHTY GOD, from whom our being came, To whom it tends,-blest be Thy holy name! Blest when through pillar'd aisles we roam, Or kneel beneath the lofty dome,

As full o'erhead, and all around,

Swell harmonies of long-drawn sound, While storied windows with deep-tinctured beam, On chisell❜d forms and graven pavements gleam!

Blest in the low-brow'd house of prayer,
Where homely pews and rafters bare
Encompass those who meekly look

Upon the cherish'd, holy book!

Blest in the cot, where, on the ground,

The patriarch peasant kneels, with all his family round!

But oh! most blessed where Thy adorer stands,
Within a temple not uprear'd by hands!
O'er-canopied by pure ethereal blue,

On which fair clouds, of white and silvery hue,
In wide array with slow progression range,
And varied forms assume in endless change.
The granite peak, by storms of ages beat,
The pavement is on which he sets his feet,
And there a goodly scope surveys,
Enlighten'd by the morning rays.
Below, distinctly mark'd, are seen,

Fields, hamlets, towns, and woodlands green;

H

And then beyond, but less defined,
A sweep of hills and vales combined,
Where brooding vapours scarce betray
Some river winding on its way;
And, far beyond, by distance made,
A fainter line of light and shade;
While further still, in distance lost,
Lie sea, and shore, and clifted coast,-
A vasty circle, dim and pale,
Of mortal ken the closing veil.

In this Thy temple, fair and grand,
Doth Thine adoring creature stand,
His eyes in ecstacy of wonder raising,
His glowing, throbbing heart Thy goodness
praising,

Till tears run coursing down his cheeks,
And every thrilling member speaks

The one absorbing thought his soul containeth,
Of love and awe composed, "The Lord Omnipotent
reigneth !"

Joanna Baillie.

FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.

"Blessed is the man whom Thou chastenest."-PSALM xliv. 12.

Has chasten'd my wanderings, and guided my way,

Adored be the Power which illumined my blindness, And wean'd me from phantoms that smiled to betray.

Enchanted with all that was dazzling and fair,
I follow'd the rainbow, I caught at the toy;
And still in displeasure Thy goodness was there,
Disappointing the hope, and defeating the joy.

The blossom blush'd bright, but a worm was below; The moonlight shone fair, there was blight in the

beam;

Sweet whisper'd the breeze, but it whisper'd of woe; And bitterness flow'd in the soft-flowing stream,

So, cured of my folly, yet cured but in part,
I turn'd to the refuge Thy pity display'd;
And still did this eager and credulous heart
Weave visions of promise that bloom'd but to
fade.

I thought that the course of the pilgrim to heaven Would be bright as the summer and glad as the

morn;

Thou show'dst me the path-it was dark and

uneven,

All rugged with rock, and all tangled with thorn.

I dream'd of celestial rewards and renown,

I grasp'd at the triumph which blesses the brave, I ask'd for the palm-branch, the robe, and the

crown;

I ask'd-and Thou show'dst me a cross and a grave.

Subdued and instructed, at length, to Thy will, My hopes and my longings I fain would resign; O give me the heart that can wait and be still, Nor know of a wish or a pleasure but Thine!

There are mansions exempted from sin and from woe, But they stand in a region by mortals untrod; There are rivers of joy, but they roll not below; There is rest, but it dwells in the presence of God. Sir Robert Grant.

IFE nor Death shall us dissever

L' From His love who reigns for ever :

Will He fail us? Never! never!
When to Him we cry.

Sin may seek to snare us,
Fury, Passion tears us!

Doubt and Fear, and grim Despair,
Their fangs against us try;

But His might shall still defend us,
And His blessed Son befriend us,
And His Holy Spirit send us
Comfort, ere we die!