ON THE CREST AND MOTTO OF THE PRINGLES OF

WHYTBANK.

"SURSUM," and a Winged Heart.

How glorious were the days of old,

When noble knights and warriors bold
Arose at love or honour's call,

Bravely to conquer or to fall;

And oft a higher aim inspired

Their souls by warm devotion fired,

Nor could they brook that Islam's race
Usurped the Christian's noblest place,
But left for Syria's rugged strand

Their much-loved home and native land,
From impious Pagans' power to save
Their great Redeemer's hallowed grave,
That Pilgrims from afar might come
To worship at his lowly tomb.

But, born in more enlightened years,
How vain to us this strife appears!

How vain that spot to watch with care!—
The Saviour's image is not there,

But dwells in each believer's heart,
From whence it never will depart.
But while their ignorance we blame,
Their zeal at least respect may claim,

Ruins of Whitebank Tower, the ancient residence of the Bringles of Whitebank and Smallholme.

And sure a lesson they afford,

How Christians ought to love their Lord.
Like them I seek my life to spend

In living for life's noblest end;
Beneath the banner of the cross

Would count my richest gain but loss,
And, careless of this world's renown,
Seek to obtain a heavenly crown.

And while each warlike crest I view,

With each device sublime and true,
I'd seek among these crests to find
Some motto still to bear in mind;
And surely none appears so fair
As that my fathers used to bear.
Then let me choose it for my own,
Be this my aim and this alone,
That upwards on the wings of love
My heart may soar to realms above,—
And may no mean or grov'lling thing
Make me descend or droop the wing,
Till, life's temptations safely past,
I rest in heavenly peace at last!

ELIZABETH PRINGLE, YAIR.

The date of this beautiful hymn is not given, but it must have been about this period.

HYMN.

WHEN unto Thee, O God, our voice we raise,

Upon our souls thy Holy Spirit shed,

That Thou may'st, while we sing thy holy praise,

In spirit and in truth be worshipped.

Our life, our breath, our all we owe to Thee,
Thy Providence supplies our daily food,
Thy power protects us, and thy hand we see,
Where'er we turn, extended for our good.

But chief of all we magnify thy grace
For the glad tidings in the Gospel given,

That to our sinful, lost and ruined race,

Through Christ our Saviour, shows the way to heaven.

Almighty Father! we will sing thy praise,

Thy name, O blessed Saviour, we adore,

Spirit of truth, to Thee our hymn we raise,
Glory, O God, to Thee for evermore!

J. A. P.