When darkness intercepts the skies,

And sorrow's waves around us roll,
When high the storms of passion rise,
And half o'erwhelm my sinking soul,
My soul a sudden calm shall feel,
And hear a whisper, "Peace, be still!"

Though in affliction's furnace tried,

Unhurt on snares and death I'll tread,
Though sin assail, and hell, thrown wide,
Pour all its flames upon my head ;

Like Moses' bush, I'll mount the higher,
And flourish unconsumed in fire.

No Christian sufferer can sing this without having St. Paul's utterances amidst tribulation sounding in his ear and in his heart, "We rejoice in hope of the glory of God; and not only so, but we glory in tribulation also, knowing that tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope; and hope maketh not ashamed, because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. I am exceeding joyful Who shall separate us

in all our tribulations.

from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or peril, or sword? Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

Chapter XXI.

HYMNS OF GETHSEMANE AND THE CROSS.

"God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ."

HERE are some doctrines of Christianity which all true believers acknowledge as peculiarly sacred-doctrines whose proper place in the Christian system is far removed from the inquisitive touch of mere reason; so that they stand confessedly exempt from the test of human controversy. Such doctrines seem to be the "heavenly things" which answer to the most hallowed types of former ages. Like the consecrated symbols of the "holiest place," they are designed neither to gratify the eye of vain curiosity, nor to furnish the disputer with materials for strife. No, they are never to be approached but for purposes of devotion. Among these inviolable truths is the doctrine of the cross. This excites the highest devotion of the glorified; while it is viewed with the deepest veneration by "the holy church throughout all the world." What the ark or the altar was to the ancient Jew, the cross is to the true Christian, his holiest thing. While he comes to it as his guide to

the mercy-seat, it is his joy, his glory, his life; but when he carries it into the battle-field, he loses his Shekinah, and that in which he gloried is profaned by the aliens of Askalon and Gath. While he comes to the altar of the cross with his hands washed in innocency, he receives the blessings of a propitiation; but when he ventures to mutilate the altar that he may secure weapons for theological combat, he is in danger of being scathed by the fire which but now had kindled his sacrifice. Hence there is nothing which revelation so carefully guards as the cross of Jesus Christ. Around this the angels make their circles, with holy desire to look into its mysteries. By this Moses and the prophets take their stand, and pour around it the jasper light of visions and the glory of prophetic oracles. Here are trains of typical priests, attended by the prefigurations of bleeding victims and sacrificial patterns. By the scene of agony and the cross, apostles and martyrs bear witness, and watch, and pray. Of the cross they write and speak, for the cross they toil, and suffer, and die. The cross is their only altar, their highest boast, their strength in life, their hope in death, their song in heaven. What a mysterious hush comes over the soul at the mention of Gethsemane! What a holy charm is there in the cross! How deeply the heart, in its best moments, responds to the name of Christ. crucified !

Is it not strange, the darkest hour

That ever dawn'd on sinful earth
Should touch the heart with softer power

For comfort, than an angel's mirth?

That to the cross the mourner's eye should turn,
Sooner than where the stars of Christmas burn?

Yet so it is for duly there

The bitter herbs of earth are set,
Till temper'd by the Saviour's prayer,
And with the Saviour's life-blood wet,
They turn to sweetness, and drop holy balm,
Soft as imprison'd martyr's death-bed calm.

But those only know this "sweetness" who have felt the bitterness of sin, and have come to Calvary hopeless of healing balm from every other source. Nor has any human psalmist ever breathed the spirit of Gethsemane or the cross until his own heart has been agonized by a sense of its sinfulness, and, by virtue of the Redeemer's blood, has been melted into loving sympathy with his suffering Lord. No mere genius can worthily sing of the " agony and bloody sweat." No unhallowed poetic intellect has ever produced a hymn replete with the divine life and saving power of the cross. Those hymns of Gethsemane and the cross which are most precious to saintly hearts, and which will be sung with deeper and deeper feeling by every coming generation of English Christians, are from the pens of those whose will and affections have been most profoundly hallowed in fellowship with Him whose soul, for our sakes, was "exceeding sorrowful even unto death." One of these has said, "The week before Easter, 1757, I had such an amazing view of the agony of Christ in the garden, as I know not well how to describe. I was lost in wonder and adoration; and the impression was too deep, I believe, ever to be obliterated. I shall say no more of this; but only remark, that, notwithstanding all that is talked about the sufferings of Jesus, none can know anything of them, but by the Holy Ghost; and I believe, that he that knows most,

knows but very little. It was then I made the first part of my hymn On the Passion.""

remains, thus

Come, all ye chosen saints of God
That long to feel the cleansing blood,
In pensive pleasures join with me
To sing of sad Gethsemane.

Gethsemane, the olive press!

That hymn

(And why so call'd let Christians guess,)
Fit name, fit place, where vengeance strove,
And grip'd and grappled hard with love.

'Twas here the Lord of life appeared,

And sigh'd, and groan'd, and pray'd, and fear'd!
Bore all Incarnate God could bear,

With strength enough and none to spare.

The powers of hell united pressed,

And squeezed his heart and bruised his breast.

What dreadful conflicts raged within,

When sweat and blood forc'd through the skin!

Despatched from heaven an angel stood,

Amazed to find Him bathed in blood;

Ador'd by angels, and obey'd;

But lower now than angels made!

He stood to strengthen, not to fight:
Justice exacts its utmost mite.

This victim vengeance will pursue:
He undertook and must go through.

Three favoured servants left not far,
Were bid to wait and watch the war;
But Christ withdrawn, what watch we keep!
To shun the sight, they sank in sleep.

Backwards and forwards thrice He ran,
As if He sought some help from man:
Or wished, at least, they would condole
('Twas all they could) his tortured soul.