Lo! the heathen rage in vain,

And in troubled pride they say:
'Let us break their bands in twain,
Let us cast their cords away!'
Hark! 'tis Ramah's bitter cry,
Yet the Virgin clasps her Son;
And a thousand babes on high
Have the life of bliss begun.

Yea, of bliss; but not to Thee
Was such ending, Babe Divine !
Thou another death must see,
Deeper sorrows shall be thine :
Thou, in words and works of peace,
Must await the' appointed hour;
Wondrous words of truth and grace,

Glorious works of love and power.

Great Redeemer, Thou hast died; Thou hast wrought the work sublime

And the words have echoed wide

To the farthest bounds of time'It is finished ! '—finished long

Is thy great Redemption-plan; And we bless Thee in our song,

Lord of angels, Son of Man!

WONDERFUL thy name we call ;

COUNSELLOR, to Thee we bow; MIGHTY GOD, the Lord of all,

FATHER EVERLASTING--Thou:

PRINCE OF PEACE,-thy steadfast throne. Strong in judgment stands for aye: Every land thy right shall own,

All thy sceptre shall obey.

Unto us a Child is born:

Unto us a Son is given :
Not a weeping child forlorn;
Not a son with sorrow riven:
God Himself shall give the sign;
Not a babe in manger-bed:

Lo! a King on throne divine:

Hark! a blast to wake the dead.

Saw ye not a gleaming light?

'Twas the Bright and Morning Star : Heard ye sounds athwart the night? 'Twas the Judge-his nearing car.

Yea, and far the night is spent ;

Soon shall break the' eternal day:

Light is with the darkness blent,

And the shadows flee away.

E

Saviour! by thy Spirit's beam

On our spirits' darkness shine; Waken us from worldly dream ;

Make us glad with joy divine :

Glad and strong through shame and scorn Singing on our way to heaven :—

Unto us a Child is born;

Unto us a Son is given !

HYMNS FROM THE FRENCH.

HYMNS.

(From the French of Alexandre Vinet.)

I.

'Sous ton voile d'ignominie.'

BENEATH thy veil of shame and scorn,
Beneath thy crown of woven thorn,
Lo! on my ravished spirit shine,
Saviour, thy glories all divine!
The gory mist which shrouds thy face
Would hide its beauty's matchless grace,—
In vain : unquenched the blessed light
Breaks from the cloud, and fills my sight.

Not when in heaven's own glory blest,
And bosomed calm in heaven's own rest,
More radiant shone thy deathless brow,
Or more celestial, Lord, than now :

Never, in beauty's own abode,
Thy beauty so divinely glowed,
As while in thought I see Thee climb,
Great Victim, Calvary's height sublime!

O ye, who fill your endless days

With ceaseless acts of prayer and praise,
Who love the Father in the Son,
Who Son with Father praise as one,
Ye angels, say,-did He appear
More glorious even in glory's sphere
Than while, upon the' accursed tree,
He drained the cup of wrath for me?

His passion crowned, as on this day,
The greatness He had worn for aye:
The path of shame the Man hath trod
Is glory to the Son of God!
Declared the Father- Love am I,'
And Jesus Christ hath made reply,
To earth descending from above,
'His Son am I, and I am Love !'

Yea, He is Love; true God confest :
God by whom we of God are blest :