Imploring the constant Presence of God.

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT.

WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved, Out from the land of bondage came, Her father's God before her moved, An awful guide in smoke and flame.

By day, along the astonished lands,
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
Returned the fiery column's glow.

Thus present still, though now unseen, When brightly shines the prosperous day,

Be thoughts of thee a cloudy screen
To temper the deceitful ray.

And, oh! when gathers on our path,
In shade and storm, the frequent night,
Be Thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath,
A burning and a shining light.

Battle Hymn.

BY REV. W. M. FERNALD.

WHEN Israel's foes, a numerous host, Through years of conflict pressed their

cause,

God's powerful arm was all her boast:
Confederate rebels owned his laws.

'Twas his right arm, his spirit's aim,
That guided youthful David's hand;
And, lo, to Joshua's vision came
The sword-armed angel in command.

Almighty God, who seekest life,
Not death, amid these dread alarms,
Prepare us for this mortal strife;
Lead thou the van; direct our arms.

Thine is the battle, mighty Lord;
The skill, the wisdom, all are thine:
The fire that lit the sacred Word
Shall flash from out our battle line.

So shall our serried ranks move on
With unseen armies from above,
And so shall victory be won
Through deeds of death to deeds of love.

The Patient waiting upon God.

BY DR. DODDRIDGE.

WAIT on the Lord, ye heirs of hope, And let his word support your souls: Well can he bear your courage up, And all your foes and fears control.

He waits his own well-chosen hour The intended mercy to display; And his paternal pities move, While wisdom dictates the delay.

Blest are the humble souls that wait With sweet submission to his will: Harmonious all their passions move, And in the midst of storms are still,

Still, till their Father's well-known voice
Wakens their silence into songs;
Then earth grows vocal with his praise,
And heaven the grateful shout prolongs.

A Prayer for the Times.

GOD of our fathers, 'tis thy hand Hath turned the tide of death away; That rolled in madness o'er the land, And filled thy people with dismay.

Thy voice awaked us from our dream;
Thy spirit taught our hearts to feel:
'Twas thy own light whose radiant beam
Came down our duty to reveal.

Almighty Parent, still in thee
Our spirits trust for strength divine:
Gird us with heaven's own energy,
And o'er our paths let wisdom shine.

The work of man's destruction stay;
The tide of fire still backward press;
Drive each delusive mist away,
And every humble effort bless.