eir 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 God,
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 God 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,