Gloomy garden, on thy beds,
Washed by Kedron's waters foul,
Grow most rank and bitter weeds;
Think on these, my sinful soul.
Wouldst thou sin's dominion flee,
Call to mind Gethsemane.

Sinners vile like me, and lost,
If there's one so vile as I,
Leave more righteous souls to boast;
Leave them, and to refuge fly;
We may well bless that decree
Which ordained Gethsemane.

We

e can hope no healing hand, Leprous quite throughout with sin. Loath'd incurables we stand,

Crying out, "Unclean, Unclean!” Help there's none for such as we, But in dear Gethsemane.

Eden, from each flowery bed,

Did for man short sweetness breathe;

Soon, by Satan's counsel led,

Man wrought sin, and sin wrought death;

But of life, the healing tree

Grows in rich Gethsemane.

Hither, Lord, thou didst resort,

Ofttimes with thy little train;

Here wouldst keep thy private court;

Oh, confer that grace again!

Lord, resort with worthless me

Ofttimes to Gethsemane!

True, I can't deserve to share

In a favour so divine:

But, since sin first fixed thee there,
None have greater sins than mine;
And to this, my woeful plea,
Witness thou, Gethsemane.

Sins against a holy God;

Sins against His righteous laws;
Sins against His love, His blood;
Sins against His name and cause;
Sins immense as is the sea.
Hide me, O Gethsemane!

Here's my claim, and here alone;
None a Saviour more can need;
Deeds of righteousness I've none,
No, not one good work to plead.
Not a glimpse of hope for me,
Only in Gethsemane.

Saviour, all the stone remove

From my flinty, frozen heart; Thaw it with the beams of love,

Pierce it with the blood-dipt dart.
Wound the heart that wounded thee;
Melt it in Gethsemane.

Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
One Almighty God of love,
Hymned by all the heavenly host
In thy shining courts above;
We, poor sinners, gracious Three,
Bless thee for Gethsemane.

HART.

“MOTHER.”

SEARCH the long annals of proud Rome and Greece,
The tomes of war, the chronicles of peace,
Ransack the old and modern rolls of fame,
To fix the brightest splendour on a name,
The name above all earthly names is-Mother!
Tone of the heart! where shall we find another
So full of tenderness, so sweet, so dear,
That breathes such hallowed music to the ear
As Mother! Dark the wayward heart must be
That vibrates not, endearing word! to thee!

BIRD.

THE CREATION.

FROM the throne of the Highest the mandate came forth, The word of Omnipotent God.

And the elements fashioned His footstool, the earth,
And the heavens His holy abode.

And His Spirit moved over the fathomless flood
Of waters that fretted in darkness around:

Until, at His bidding, their turbulent mood
Was hushed to a calm, and obedient they stood
Where He fixed their perpetual bound.

By the word of Omnipotence, valley and hill Were clothed with the grass and the flower, And the fruit-tree expanded its blooms by the rill, And the nourishing herb in the bower;

And the sun of the morning—the fountain of light—
Cast his cherishing rays through creation afar;
And the region of darkness, the season of Night-
The sister of Chaos-grew beauteous and bright
By the beams of the moon and the star.

By the word of Omnipotence, nature brought forth
The fish, and the beast, and the bird;

And they played in the waters, and browsed on the earth,
And the air by their carol was stirred;

And man, in the image and likeness of God,

Erected his person majestic and tall;

And though, like a worm, he was formed of the clod,
Yet, the favourite of heaven, he came forth and stood
The lord and possessor of all.

From the work of creation, which rose by His word,
When finished the heavens and the earth,

On the seventh day rested the Omnipotent Lord,

As He looked on each beautiful birth;

On the firmament stretched from the east to the west,
On the far-flowing sea, and the rich-teeming land;
And He saw they were good, and the Sabbath was blest,
The Sabbath! the sanctified season of rest

To the creatures that came from His hand.

KNOX.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

WHEN marshalled on the nightly plain
The glittering host bestud the sky;
One Star alone, of all the train,

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye.

Hark! hark! to God the chorus breaks,
From every host, from every gem;
But one alone the Saviour speaks,
It is the Star of Bethlehem.

Once on the raging seas I rode,

The storm was loud, the night was dark,
The ocean yawned—and rudely blowed
The wind that tossed my foundering bark.

Deep horrors then my vitals froze,
Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem,
When suddenly a Star arose―

It was the Star of Bethlehem.

It was my guide, my light, my all;
It bade my dark forebodings cease:
And through the storm and danger's thrall
It led me to the port of peace.

Now safely moored, my perils o'er,
I'll sing, first in night's diadem,

For ever and for evermore,

The Star! the Star of Bethlehem!

KIRKE WHITE.

A SAINT.

A SAINT! oh, would that I could claim
The privileged, the honoured name,
And confidently take my stand,
Though lowest in the saintly band.