was to Paul when he wrote Galatians, iii., 1, “before whose eyes Jesus Christ hath been evidently set forth crucified among you;" a picture which was henceforth stamped in everlasting colors upon the tablet of Newton's memory.

I saw one hanging on a tree

In agony and blood;

He fixed his languid eyes on me
As near his cross I stood.

Oh, never till my latest breath
Shall I forget that look;

It seem'd to charge me with his death,
Though not a word he spoke.

A second look he gave, which said:
"I freely all forgive;

This blood is for thy ransom paid,
I die that thou mayst live."

THE night before John Huss was burned at the stake, 500 years ago, he saw the picture of Christ painted upon the wall of his cell by an unknown hand. Then someone seemed to rub it all out, but immediately came a group of angels covering walls and ceilings with the picture, the last departing saying: "There; all the powers of darkness cannot obliterate that picture."

With more or less vividness the great picture of Christ bearing "the sin of many" must be impressed upon the soul of every one gathered into the kingdom of God. "They sung a new song, saying, 'Thou wast slain and hast redeemed us to

God by thy blood out of every kindred and tongue and people and nation.'" Revelation, v., 9.

There is the old hymn

When I survey the wond'rous cross
On which the Prince of Glory died
My richest gain I count but loss

And pour contempt on all my pride.

W. T. Stead says: "This hymn is Watts' finest, and is one of the four hymns which stand at the head of all those in the English language. Mrs. Evans, the original of George Elliot's 'Dinah,' in 'Adam Bede," quoted this hymn upon her dying bed." He then tells an incident which shows how flippantly we sing the most solemn hymns. Father Ignatius preached a missionary sermon at the church of St. Edmond the King, Lombard street, London, when this was the closing hymn. The last verse was sung with much gusto, and as it ended the preacher said: "I am surprised to hear you sing that, for, do you know that the whole collection this morning amounted to fifteen shillings?"

Were the whole realm of nature mine,

That were a present far too small;

Love so amazing, so divine,

soul, life, my

The same authority in his "Hymns That Have Helped," speaking of Cowper's splendid hymn

There is a fountain filled with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,

And sinners plunged beneath that flood

Lose all their guilty stains

says: "Rev. James Spurgeon writes me: "This hymn has

spoken to my heart as no other hymn has done.'" Sir Edwin Arnold (whose 'Light of Asia' probably does not qualify him especially for passing judgment upon the value of Christian hymns) says, "This hymn is absolutely shocking to my mind;' but Mr. Price Hughes writes: 'If it has been much criticised, it has been much blessed!'" And Mr. Stead himself adds: "All the animad-versions are the lightest dust of the balance compared with the fact of the marvelous influence which the singing of this hymn has had in softening the heart upon occasions of great spiritual quickening. It has been the means of changing the lives of more men than all those who have ever heard the name of most of its critics."

MUCH of the appreciation of even a great hymn or other utterance depends upon the time, place and circumstances under which it was heard.

Webster's great speech at Bunker Hill could not have had the same effect at any other spot on earth. When, in response to a complaint that the people in the rear were crowding, Webster said, "Stand back, gentlemen; stand back," the cry came, "We can't stand back; it's impossible." The speaker replied: "Nothing is impossible at Bunker Hill; stand back, if you please."

There are other morning hymns perhaps equal to that of Bishop Heber, but none will ever make upon the mind of this writer the impression of that great hymn. It brings up Tremont Temple, with its 3,000 earnest listeners, every standing room occupied. Dr. Henson and his office bearers coming upon the platform, the great organ rolling out its music, the splendid choir's opening sound, and 2,000 or more voices joining in the crowning ascription of praise to God:

Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord Almighty.

Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee.

-a scene which can never be repeated on earth, for Dr.

Henson, the then central figure of Tremont Temple, has joined the choir invisible.

IN 1737 Dr. Philip Doddridge composed a fine hymn to be sung in connection with his sermon from Hebrews, iv., 9, "There remaineth, therefore, a rest to the people of God." It opened―

Lord of the Sabbath, hear our vows.

But it is usually found in modern books beginning with the second verse:

1 Thine earthly Sabbaths Lord we love,
But there's a nobler rest above.
To that our longing souls aspire
With cheerful hope and strong desire.

* * *

3 No rude alarms of angry foes,
No cares to break the long repose;
No midnight shade, no clouded sun,
But sacred high eternal noon.

This hymn has sometimes been mistakenly ascribed to Dr. Isaac Watts. In speaking of the third verse one writer says, "No future could be less inviting than the picture of Dr. Watts

'No midnight shade, no clouded sun
But sacred high eternal noon.'

From such a pitiless glare we may well pray to be delivered." This seems to be a most unfounded criticism. Most poetry is more or less figurative, and "high noon" stands for what is best in man's person or estate. The same system of criticism would strike out much of the Bible and most of the Revelation.

Another very beautiful and well-known hymn by Dr. Doddridge is much used at baptisms and sung all over the world wherever English speaking Christians gather. quote but the first lines:

"O, Happy Day that fixed my choice

On Thee my Saviour and my God.
Well may this glowing heart rejoice

And tell its raptures all abroad."

I need

How many thousands, nay millions, call up this hymn as they remember the day upon which they were united to the Christian Church, tinged though the recollection often be, with the fear that we have allowed the "glow" to become dim.

THERE is something wonderfully effective in the Scotch singing their metrical version of the Psalms. How closely they adhere to the Bible diction! How true to the very thought of the inspired words! You seem lifted into ecstacy or plunged into despair, according to the mood of the psalmist. The very swing of eternity is in them.

Pope says,

When Ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw,
The line, too, labors and the words move slow-

making you feel that you are handling some great burden. So these metrical versions carry you into the inner thought of the author, better often than the prose-in fact, the Psalms, many of them, were intended for musical rendering. Take the 121stI to the hills will lift mine eyes,

From whence doth come mine aid-
From Sion's hill and Sion's God,

Who heaven and earth hath made.