Prayer for the Monthly Concert. LXXII. REGINALD HEBER. FROM foes that would the land devour; From blinded zeal by faction led; My Fatherland. Where is my Fatherland? Where fires of spirits high were glowing, Where flower crowns for the fair were growing, Burned for all holy things to stand- Why weeps my Fatherland? Because her people's rulers, quaking 120 Prayer for the Monthly Concert. Defend, oh God! with guardian hand, And grant our church thy grace to stand, The Spirit's help of thee we crave, That thou whose blood was shed to save, Whom calls my Fatherland? To stay the avenger's scourging hand,- What will my Fatherland? Her foe's slave-host she yet will shatter, What hopes my Fatherland? Free translation from Korner. Devotion to the Cause of Christ. LXXIII.* M. W. CHAPMAN. THE memory of the faithful dead Be on their children's hearts this day! Your father's God, their host that led, Will shield you through the stormy way. Your Saviour bids you seek and save The trampled and the oppressed of earth, At his command the storm to brave, Faithful and true! come boldly forth! Their suffering though your souls must shareThough pride oppress and hate condemn, Stand up! and breathe your fearless prayer For those in bonds as bound with them. Unheeded fall the fierce command That bids the struggling soul be dumb! Shout with a voice to rouse a land! Bid the free martyr spirit come! * The present times will be but imperfectly understood by those who shall come after us; none but those now living, and possessing an opportunity of seeing the play of the machinery set in motion by the controllers of the clergy, can appreciate the strength of soul it now requires to pray publicly' for master and slave. 122 Circumspection. Searcher of hearts, to thee we bow- Circumspection. LXXIV. WESLEY. WATCHED by the world's malignant eye, That Wisdom, Lord, on us bestow, While upright both in life and heart, And show them how the Christians live. Fifteenth Psalm of David. LXXV. WATTS. WHO shall inhabit in thy hill, Oh God of holiness? Whom will the Lord admit to dwell So near his throne of grace? To George Thompson. L. M. CHILD. I've heard thee when thy powerful words But even in reproof of sin, Love brooded over all As the mild rainbow's heavenly arch Rests on the waterfall. I've heard thee in the hour of prayer, Thy voice was like the royal harp, That breathed a charmed sound. The evil spirit felt its power, And some, perchance, who came to scoff, |