The Same.

1 Oh shut not out sweet Pity's ray From souls now clouded o'er by sin; Touch their deep springs, and let the day Of Christian love flow freely in.

2 Send them kind missions, though their feet No more again the world may tread; Some pulse of better life may beat In hearts that seem unmoved and dead.

3 'Tis just that they should bear the pain Of keen remorse and guilty shame; But scorn may drive to crime again-- 'Tis only love that can reclaim.

818. S. M. Miss Fletcher.

The Same.

1 We come to thee, O G.o.d, With hushed and solemn strain; We come to plead for those who lie Bound with the prisoner's chain.

2 O, give them contrite hearts, To feel their fearful sin, And give to us a patient faith Those erring ones to win.

3 Give us to love thy law, The paths of vice to shun, But never harshly dare to spurn The suffering sinful one.

819. S. M. Miss Martineau, alt.

The Coming of Christ in Power.

1 Lord Jesus, come; for here Our path through wilds is laid!

We watch as for the day-spring near, Amid the breaking shade.

2 Lord Jesus, come; for hosts Meet on the battle plain: The patriot mourns, the tyrant boasts, And tears are shed like rain.

3 Lord Jesus, come; for chains Are still upon the slave; Bind up his wounds, relieve his pains, The pining bondman save.

4 Hark! herald voices near, Lead on thy happier day: Come, Lord, and our hosannas hear; We wait to strew thy way.

5 Come, as in days of old, With words of grace and power; Gather us all within thy fold, And let us stray no more.

820. C. M. R. Nicoll.

Honor all Men.

1 I may not scorn the meanest thing That on the earth doth crawl; The slave who would not burst his chain, The tyrant in his hall.

2 The vile oppressor who hath made The widowed mother mourn, Though worthless, soulless he may stand, I cannot, dare not scorn.

3 The darkest night that shrouds the sky, Of beauty hath a share: The blackest heart hath sighs to tell That G.o.d still lingers there.

821. C. M. Whittier.

The Call of Truth.

1 Oh! not alone with outward sign, Of fear, or voice from heaven, The message of a truth divine, The call of G.o.d, is given; Awakening in the human heart, Love for the true and right, Zeal for the Christian's better part, Strength for the Christian's fight.

2 Though heralded by nought of fear, Or outward sign or show; Though only to the inward ear It whisper soft and low; Though dropping as the manna fell, Unseen, yet from above, Holy and gentle, heed it well: The call to truth and love.

822. C. M. Lond. Inquirer.

Encouragement to Christian Effort.

1 Scorn not the slightest word or deed, Nor deem it void of power; There's fruit in each wind-wafted seed, Waiting its natal hour.

2 A whispered word may touch the heart, And call it back to life; A look of love bid sin depart, And still unholy strife.

3 No act falls fruitless; none can tell How vast its power may be; Nor what results enfolded dwell Within it silently.

4 Work and despair not: bring thy mite, Nor care how small it be; G.o.d is with all that serve the right, The holy, true, and free.

823. S. M. Enfield.

Forgiveness.

1 I hear the voice of woe!

I hear a brother's sigh!

Then let my heart with pity flow, With tears of love, my eye.

2 I hear the thirsty cry!

The hungry beg for bread!

Then let my spring its stream supply, My hand its bounty shed.