THIRD SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

R. H.

OH Saviour, is Thy promise fled?
Nor longer might Thy grace endure,
To heal the sick and raise the dead,
And preach Thy gospel to the poor?

Come, Jesus! come! return again;

With brighter beam Thy servants bless, Who long to feel Thy perfect reign, And share Thy kingdom's happiness!

A feeble race, by passion driven,

In darkness and in doubt we roam, And lift our anxious eyes to Heaven, Our hope, our harbour, and our home! Yet, 'mid the wild and wintry gale,

When Death rides darkly o'er the sea, And strength and earthly daring fail, Our prayers, Redeemer! rest on Thee! Come, Jesus! come! and, as of yore The prophet went to clear Thy way, A harbinger Thy feet before,

A dawning to Thy brighter day:

So now may grace with heavenly shower
Our stony hearts for truth prepare ;
Sow in our souls the seed of power,
Then come and reap Thy harvest there!

FOURTH SUNDAY IN ADVENT.

R. H.

THE world is grown old, and her pleasures are past;
The world is grown old, and her form may not last;
The world is grown old, and trembles for fear;
For sorrows abound, and judgement is near!

The sun in the Heaven is languid and pale;
And feeble and few are the fruits of the vale;
And the hearts of the nations fail them for fear,
For the world is grown old, and judgement is near!

The king on his throne, the bride in her bower,
The children of pleasure all feel the sad hour;
The roses are faded, and tasteless the cheer,
For the world is grown old, and judgement is near!

The world is grown old !—but should we complain,
Who have tried her and know that her promise is vain?
Our heart is in Heaven, our home is not here,
And we look for our crown when judgement is near!

CHRISTMAS DAY.

No. I.

R. H.

OH Saviour, whom this holy morn
Gave to our world below;

To mortal want and labour born,
And more than mortal woe!

Incarnate Word! by every grief,
By each temptation tried,
Who lived to yield our ills relief,
And to redeem us died!

If gaily clothed and proudly fed,
In dangerous wealth we dwell;
Remind us of Thy manger bed,
And lowly cottage cell!

If prest by poverty severe,

In envious want we pine,
O may Thy spirit whisper near,
How poor a lot was Thine!

Through fickle fortune's various scene

From sin preserve us free!

Like us Thou hast a mourner been,

May we rejoice with Thee!

CHRISTMAS DAY.

No. II.

HARK! the herald Angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King!
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God to man is reconciled!

Joyful all ye nations rise,
Join the triumphs of the skies;
With the angelic host proclaim,
Christ is born in Bethlehem!

Christ, by highest Heaven adored;
Christ, the everlasting Lord :
Late in time behold Him come,
Offspring of a Virgin's womb!

Veil'd in flesh the Godhead see!

Hail the incarnate Deity!

Pleas'd as man with man to appear,

Jesus, our Immanuel here!

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace!

Hail the sun of righteousness!

Light and life to all He brings,

Risen with healing on His wings!

Mild He lays His glory by,

Born that man no more may die ;

Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth!

ST. STEPHEN'S DAY.

R. H.

THE Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain:

His blood-red banner streams afar!
Who follows in His train?

Who best can drink His cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,

Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in His train!

The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave;
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And call'd on Him to save.

Like Him, with pardon on his tongue
In midst of mortal pain,

He pray'd for them that did the wrong!

Who follows in His train?

A glorious band, the chosen few

On whom the Spirit came;

Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,

And mock'd the cross and flame.