Thine, thine, this book, though given

In man's poor human speech, Telling of things unseen, unheard, Beyond all human reach.

No strength it craves or needs

From this world's wisdom vain ; No filling up from human wells, Or sublunary rain.

No light from sons of time,

Nor brilliance from its gold;
It sparkles with its own glad light,
As in the ages old.

A thousand hammers keen,

With fiery force and strain, Brought down on it in rage and hate, Have struck this gem in vain.

Against this sea-swept rock

Ten thousand storms their will
Of foam and rage have wildly spent ;
It lifts its calm face still.

It standeth and will stand,

Without or change or age, The word of majesty and light, The church's heritage.

HORATIUS BONAR, D. D.

1868.

ABIDE WITH ME.

It is related that in the autumn of 1847, just before taking his final journey to Nice, Mr. Lyte made an effort to preach to his congregation at Lower Brixham, Devon, once more addressing them his solemn parting words, and administering to them the Lord's Supper, and that, on retiring to rest, he presented to a dear relative this hymn, now so precious to the Church, with the music he had adapted to it. It is founded on the following passage of Scripture: Abide with us: for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent." -LUKE XXIV. 29.

ABIDE with me! Fast falls the eventide ;
The darkness deepens: Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away:
Change and decay in all around I see;
O thou, who changest not, abide with me!

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,
But as thou dwell'st with thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, -
Come, not to sojourn, but 'bide, with me!