Peace be thy gentle guest,
Peace holy and divine,
God's blessed sunlight still,
Upon thy pathway shine.

His Spirit fill thy soul,

And cast out every sin,

His own deep joy impart,

And make a heaven within.

THE TWO ERAS OF THE LAND.

Or old they sung the song of liberty,

They sung it upon mountain and on plain,

Till every echo of both land and sea

Pealed back the song again.

They poured it on the morning's genial gale,
It floated out upon the evening's calm,

And the rich stream-breeze from each fragrant vale
Gave back the song in balm.

The peasant sang it in his straw-roofed cot,
The noble sang it in his princely hall,
Till the vexed land, responding to the note,
Rose
up at freedom's call.

The blithe blue morning's newly-wakened ray
Of cloudless summer coming freshly down,
Saw chains and bondage, tears and slavery,

The tyrant's sword and frown.

Ꮮ

The northern noonday saw the rising war,
Like sudden tempest on a wind-swept sea,
The shout rose upwards to the evening-star,
The land, the land is free!

Amid the oppressor's threats they planted high
The ancient flag of sacred liberty,

That banner floats unthreatened to the sky,—
The Bruce hath set them free!

They sung the song of liberty again,

'Twas a still louder song than that of yore, It went like thunder-notes o'er hill and plain, It woke each echoing shore.

It woke the heart of age and heedless youth,
It woke the spirit of the sleeping land,
It roused them to the voice of holy truth,
Who could that voice withstand?

Hear ye the truth, and hearing it obey,

Know ye the truth, the truth shall make you free,

Love not the midnight, love the lightsome day,

That light is life and liberty.

The Free One makes you free; he breaks the rod,
He bids you lift your heads to sky and sun,
As freemen of the everlasting God,

Kneeling to Him alone.

The Free One makes you free; be slaves to none,
Priest, prince, or self, in body or in soul;
Serve thou with all thy strength thy God alone,
Yield but to His control.

The True One gives you truth; a heritage, Richer than that which kings may buy or sell, For children's children to the farthest age; Guard thou that treasure well.

Round went the message, over rock and plain, Like burning words from lips of prophet old, Priest, king, and lord opposed the voice in vain, It would not be controlled.

Wide o'er the land went forth the new born day,

Brightening alike the cot, the hall, the throne, Long years of darkness vanish at its ray,

Ages of night have gone.

The Christ has come, the breaker of all chains,

The giver of the heavenly liberty;

Peace, light, and freedom to these hills and plains !— The land, the land is free !

MARTYR'S HYMN.

"The glory of children are their fathers."-PROV. xvii. 6.

THERE was gladness in Zion, her standard was flying,
Free o'er her battlements, glorious and gay;
All fair as the morning shone forth her adorning,
And fearful to foes was her godly array.

There is mourning in Zion, her standard is lying
Defiled in the dust, to the spoiler a prey ;

And now there is wailing, and sorrow prevailing,
For the best of her children are weeded away.

The good have been taken, their place is forsaken ; The man and the maiden, the green and the grey ; The voice of the weepers wails over the sleepers,

The martyrs of Scotland that now are away!