This message was sped by an angel of light, "Go, picture the practical infidel's plight, 'T will save that apostate from hell's deepest night: Go, preach the cross--watchman, go!"

I heard fled to Christ-soft as dew from above, Not long ago-not long ago—

Descended the stream of his heavenly love

Sweet was its flow-was its flow. With the heart how I praise him-his mercy adore, My exile is ended-my wanderings are o'er; I stand on the mount now, to go down no more, No, never more--never more.

THE YOUNG LADY'S EXPERIENCE.

YE people, that wonder at me and my ways,
And with much astonishment on me do gaze-
Come, lend your attention, and I will relate
My past exercises, and my present state.

The people I follow I once did despise,

And ofttimes, like you, gazed on them with surprise;
I gazed with a mixture of pride and disdain,
But still from their meetings I could not refrain.

I ofttimes did jest at their sighs and their groans,
And sometimes in secret was made for to mourn;
Though weeping and shouting gave me such offence,
I thought it delusion, and all a pretence.

I ofttimes resolved to hear them no more,
But still, on occasions, would go as before;
Although persecution I still would return,
But the spark of conviction began for to burn.

The word, clothed with power, at last reach'd my

heart

I sat under preaching, and there felt the dart;
I strove to conceal it, but all was in vain-
To pray, weep, and tremble, it did me constrain.

I sank down in sorrow; so great my distress,
I lay for some hours almost motionless;
Till Jesus in mercy his love did reveal :
A wonder, a wonder-O how did I feel!

My burden of guilt was removed and gone,
My spirit was joyful, my soul was serene;

I stood up and praised him, without dread or fear, Nor would I regard it, though the world had been there.

My friends may despise me, my folks ridicule,
The wise of this world may esteem me a fool;
But all their endeavours will be fruitless and vain,
For Jesus has bless'd me, and I'll praise his name.

HOME IN HEAVEN.

THE Christian pilgrim sings,
Heaven's my home, heaven's my home;
The Christian pilgrim sings,

Heaven's my home.

Through the telescope of faith

He looks o'er the river death,

And exultingly exclaims,

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home.

Though poverty's my lot,

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home;

Though poverty's my lot,

Heaven's my home.

Though poverty's my lot,
Though the fig-tree blossoms not,
I can sing the song of hope-

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home.

Though the world may me disown,
Heaven's my home, heaven's my
Though the world may me disown
Heaven's my home.

Though the world may ms aisown,
I am little and unknown,

I'm an heir to yonder throne-
Heaven's my home, heaven's my

Through the dark and cloudy day

home:

home.

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home:

Through the dark and cloudy day

Heaven's my home.

Through the dark and cloudy day
On Jehovah's arm I'll stay,

And pursue my happy way;

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home. soul could say,

O that every

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home; O that every soul could say, Heaven's my home.

that every soul could say, If I die this blessed day,

I should rise and soar away;

Heaven's my home, heaven's my home.

THE CROSS.

I'm tired of visits, modes, and forms,
And flatteries made by human worms,
Their conversation flows.

The theme of Jesus' dying love
Transports my soul to things above;
The hallow'd flame of Jesus' love,
It sets my soul on fire.

When Jesus tells his dying love,
Through every vein my passions move,
The captives of his love.

In midnight shades, on frosty ground,
I could attend the pleasing sound;
Nor would I feel December cold,
Nor think the season long.

When he describes the thorns he wore,
And tells his bloody passion o'er,
Till I am drown'd in tears;
Then, with a sympathetic smart,

There's a strange joy beats round my heart;
The accursed tree, loaded with bliss,

My sweetest balm it bears.

Thus while I hear my Saviour God
Count o'er my sins, a heavy load,
He bore upon the tree;

Inward I blush, with sacred shame,
And weep, and own, and love the name
Who knew no guilt, nor grief his own,
But bore it all for me."

Kindly he opens to me his ear,
And bids me pour my sorrows there,
And tell him all my pain;
Thus while I ease my burden'd heart,
In every wound he heals a part;
His arm embraces, and his hands
My drooping head sustains.

KNIGHTS OF MALTA.

COME, all you knights, you knights of Malta,
Come, say and do as I have done;

You might have been in armour brighter,
Within the New Jerusalem.

CHORUS.-We are the true-born sons of Eden,
We are the true-born sons of God,

We wear the badge and scarlet garter,
The robe that ancient monarchs wore.

When Moses planted Aaron's rod
All in one night that rod did bud;
When Moses smote the Egyptian water
That very moment it turn'd to blood.
CHORUS.-We are the true-born sons of Levi,
We are the true-born sons of God,

We are the root and branch of David,
The bright and glorious morning star.

When Aaron and I crossed over Jordan,
When the fifth stone was lifted up,
With the high-priest and our grand master,
We carried the ark of God along.
CHORUS.

It was in Gilgal our ark we rested,

And there we did receive the mark;
The seven trumpets of rams' horns sounded,
Sounded there before the ark.

CHORUS.

Broad is the road that leads to ruin,
Many there be who travel in;

Come, go with me to the New Jerusalem,
That is the place that's free from sin.
CHORUS.