INTENDED TO BE SUNG ON OCCASION OF HIS PREACHING A SERMON FOR THE CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY, IN

APRIL, 1820.

FROM Greenland's icy mountains,

From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains

Roll down their golden sand ;
From many an ancient river,

From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver

Their land from error's chain,

What though the spicy breezes

Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Though every prospect pleases,

And only man is vile :
In vain with lavish kindness

The gifts of God are strown,
The heatben, in his blindness,

Bows down to wood and stone.

Can we, whose souls are lighted

With wisdom from on high, Can we to men benighted

The lamp of life deny ? Salvation, O salvation !

The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation

Has learned Messiah's name.

Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,

And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory,

It spreads from pole to pole ; Till o'er our ransomed nature,

The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator,

In bliss returns to gn.

AN INTROIT TO BE SUNG BETWEEN THE LITANY AND COMMUNION

SERVICE.

O most merciful !
O most bountiful!
God the Father Almighty !
By the Redeemer's
Sweet intercession
Hear us, help us when we cry.

BEFORE THE SACRAMENT.

BREAD of the world, in mercy broken ;

Wine of the soul, in mercy shed; By whom the words of life were spoken,

And in whose death our sins are dead;

Look on the heart by sorrow broken,

Look on the tears by sinners shed, And be thy feast to us the token

That by thy grace our souls are fed.

AT A FUNERAL.

BENEATH our feet and o'er our head

Is equal warning given ; Beneath us lie the countless dead,

Above us is the heaven.

Their names are graven on the stone,

Their bones are in the clay ; And ere another day is done,

Ourselves may be as they.

Death rides on every passing breeze,

He lurks in every flower ; Each season has its own disease,

Its peril every hour.

Our eyes have seen the rosy light

Of youth's soft cheek decay, And Fate descend in sudden night

On manhood's middle day.

Our eyes have seen the steps of age

Halt feebly towards the tomb, And yet shall earth our hearts engage,

And dreams of days to come?