And when the shepherds saw the light,
And heard that heavenly lay,

At once they hastened with delight,
Glad homage there to pay.

Dear infant Saviour! can I bring

No tribute to bestow?

No poor but freewill offering

My love and faith to show?

Alas! this poor, polluted heart
Is all I have to give;
How kind, how merciful Thou art,
Such tribute to receive!

THIS

New Year's Day.

1845.

year will prove a happy one If gladdened by Thy smile, Jesus, my Saviour! that alone

My heart with bliss can fill: That smile can cheer the saddest hour, And gild the darkest sky,

And with its soul-refreshing power

Joy, e'en midst grief, supply.

The year will prove a happy one
If quickened by Thy grace,
With swifter, firmer steps I run
The arduous heavenly race;
If stumbling, lingering now no more,
"Forgetting things behind,"

I press towards those that are before
With undiverted mind.

This year will prove a happy one,
Bring with it what it may,

If, Lord, Thy strength be made my own,
In every trying day.

For Thou canst make all grace abound,

Thou canst my faith increase,

And with Thy mercy fence me round,
And keep my mind in peace.

This year will prove a happy one,

If every moment lent,

Each day, each hour, with Thee begun, For Thee alone be spent;

If as the weeks revolve, my aim,

My one desire may be,

On earth to glorify Thy name,

To live, my God, for Thee!

For Good Friday.

O LAMB OF GOD! on Thee I look,
I see Thee by dark Kedron's brook,
There prostrate laid, amazed with fears,
Thou pourest out strong cries and tears;
Fainting, th' o'erwhelming load beneath,—
Yea, sorrowful e'en unto death,-

That agony was borne for me,

Which forced great drops of blood from Thee!

O Lamb of God!-on that dread night,
But for Thy Godhead's glorious might,
Thou must have sunk-for there was none
To have pity on Thee-no, not one!
Amidst th' intolerable anguish,

Didst Thou for human comfort languish !
While Thou didst agonize and weep—
Lo! Thy disciples were asleep !

O Lamb of God! shall I complain,
Of grief, or loneliness, or pain,
When Thou, the Just, the Holy One,
Didst tread the winepress thus alone?

There at Jehovah's wrath dismayed,
Bereft of every earthly aid,

Lest Thou shouldst, ere the cross, expire,
An angel's help didst Thou require.

O Lamb of God, by that sad scene,
That sweat of blood, that anguish keen;
By all those griefs for me endured,
That pardon free might be secured;
By all Thy spotless soul sustained,
By all Thy cross and passion gained;
By that unfathomable love.
All thought, all measurement above,
Make me from sin's dominion free,
Henceforth to live alone for Thee.

Éaster Sunday.

ALL hail, thou bright and glorious day, When He "the Life, the Truth, the Way,"

Taught His dejected flock to say,

"The Lord is risen !"

Hail, holy day, most blest, most dear,
When death's dark region, sad and drear,'
Those strange, mysterious sounds did hear,
"The Lord is risen!"

The holy Captive's bonds are riven,
To Him the keys of death are given;
Be glad, O earth, and shout, O heaven!

"The Lord is risen!"

And earth does seem to feel anew
That smile from which her beauty grew;
She tells, with many a brightening hue,

"The Lord is risen!"

Her opening buds fresh perfume fling;
Her hills and valleys laugh and sing,
While floats on every zephyr's wing,

"The Lord is risen!"

And shall my heart unmoved be found,
While such an anthem swells around,
While earth and heaven alike resound,

"The Lord is risen?"

Shall this triumphant theme inspire

Each angel's voice, each seraph's lyre,

And I not sing, with such a choir,

"The Lord is risen ?"