5 Shall we from scenes of trial shrink,
Now our Example lives?

Or shall we all with patience drink
The cup our Father gives?

HYMN VII. P. M.

1 O'ER Kedron's stream, and Salem's height, And Olivet's brown steep,

Rolls the majestic queen of night,

And showers from heaven her silver light,
And sees the world asleep.

2 All but the children of distress, Of sorrow, grief, and care;

Whom sleep, though pray'd for, will not bless; These leave the couch of restlessness,

To breathe the cool, calm air.

3 For those who shun the glare of day,
There's a composing power

That meets them on their lonely way,
In the still air,-the sober ray

Of this religious hour.

4 'Tis a religious hour: for he,
Who many a grief shall bear,
In his own body on the tree,
Is kneeling in Gethsemanè,
In agony and prayer.

5 0, holy Father! when the light Of earthly joy grows dim,

May hope in Christ grow strong and bright, In all who celebrate this rite,

In memory of him.

HYMN VIII. P. M.

1 THERE'S Something sweet in scenes of gloom To hearts, of joy bereft:

When hope has wither'd in its bloom;
When friends are going to the tomb;
Or in the tomb are left.

2 'Tis night; a lovely night :-and lo!
Like men in vision seen,

The Saviour and his brethren go,
Silent, and sorrowful, and slow,

Led by heaven's lamp serene,

3 From Salem's height, o'er Kedron's stream,

To Olivet's dark steep;

There, o'er past joys-so like a dream,
O'er future woes, that present seem,
In solitude to weep.

4 Heaven on their earthly hopes has frown'd: Their dream of thrones has fled:

The table that his love has crown'd
They ne'er again shall sit around,
With Jesus at their head.

5 Blast not, O God, this hope of ours,
The hope of sins forgiven:

Then, when our friends the grave devours,
When all the world around us lowers,
We'll look from earth to heaven.

HYMN IX. C. M.

"For my flesh is meat indeed;"_

1 HAD Jesus left his scatter'd fold
The legacy of pride,

Golconda's gems, and Ophir's gold,
When he, their Shepherd, died;

2 Few could have hoarded many a gem,
Of those who shared them first:
And O, how many, even of them,
Had, in that gift, been curst!

3 Had such a legacy been cast Upon the stream of time;

Would it have come through ages past,Ages of night and crime?

4 And had it reached us all, should we
In such a boon be blest?

O no:-a part might misers be,
And prodigals the rest.

5 But all may now a treasure hoard
That ne'er engenders strife:

For we may all, around this board,
Partake the bread of life.

HYMN X. C. M.

"-my blood is drink indeed.”

1 WHEN Asia's mighty conqueror died, His followers shared his realm. Yet, O how soon did ruin's tide

Them and their thrones o'erwhelm!

2 Had every monarch from his throne
By Jesus' arm been hurl'd ;
Had he, the conqueror, held alone
The sceptre of the world;-

3 Had his apostles shared the globe;
Had all the orient gems

That deck the royal Persian's robe
Blaz'd on their diadems :-

4 Thron'd on the Egyptian's pyramid,
Old Time had seen their power
All crumble, as the Grecian's did,
And wither like a flower.

5 This Jesus knew: and, ere the thorns Around his head were prest,

The banquet which this board adorns
He spread for all, and blest.