AT THE DOOR.

EHOLD! a Stranger's at the door! He gently knocks, has knocked before, Has waited long, is waiting still; You treat no other friend so ill.

But will He prove a Friend indeed ?
He will! the very Friend you need!
The Man of Nazareth, 't is He,
With garments dyed at Calvary.

Rise, touched with gratitude Divine;
Turn out His enemy and thine,
That hateful, hell-born monster, sin;
And let the Heavenly Stranger in.

If thou art poor, (and poor thou art,)
Lo! He has riches to impart ;

Not wealth, in which mean avarice rolls;

O better far! the wealth of souls!

Thou 'rt blind; He'll take the scales away,

And let in everlasting day :

Naked thou art; but He shall dress

Thy blushing soul in righteousness.

Admit Him, for the human breast
Ne'er entertained so kind a guest:
Admit Him, for you can't expel;
Where'er He comes, He comes to dwell.

Admit Him, ere His anger burn;
His feet, departed, ne'er return!
Admit Him; or the hour 's at hand
When at His door denied you 'll stand.

Yet know, (nor of the terms complain,)
If Jesus comes, He comes to reign;
To reign, and with no partial sway;
Thoughts must be slain, that disobey

Sovereign of souls! Thou Prince of Peace!
O may Thy gentle reign increase!

Throw wide the door, each willing mind!
And be His empire all mankind!

HYMN FOR EPIPHANY.

HE wise men to Thy cradle throne, O Infant Saviour, brought of old The incense meet for God alone, Sharp myrrh, and shining gold.

Shine on us too, sweet Eastern star,
Thine own baptizèd Gentile band,
Till we have found our Lord from far,
An offering in our hand.

Till we have brought the fine gold rare,
Of zeal that giveth all for love;
Till we have prayed the glowing prayer,

Like incense borne above.

Till bitter tears our eyes

have wet,

Because our wilful hearts would err; Worship, and love, and sorrow met, Gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

All meet for Thee our own Adored,

Our suffering Saviour, God, and King;

Accept the gold and incense, Lord,

Accept the myrrh we bring.

R

REST

EST, weary heart,

From all thy silent griefs, and secret
pain,

Thy profitless regrets, and longings vain;
Wisdom and love have ordered all the past,
All shall be blessedness and light at last;
Cast off the cares that have so long opprest;
Rest, sweetly rest!

Rest, weary head !

Lie down to slumber in the peaceful tomb :
Light from above has broken through its gloom;
Here, in the place where once thy Saviour lay,
Where He shall wake thee on a future day,
Like a tired child upon its mother's breast,
Rest, sweetly rest!

Rest, spirit free!

In the green pastures of the heavenly shore, Where sin and sorrow can approach no more,

With all the flock by the Good Shepherd fed,

Beside the streams of Life eternal led,
Forever with thy God and Saviour blest,
Rest, sweetly rest!