And thus that dark betrayal night
With the last advent we unite,
By one blest chain of loving rite,
Until He come.

Until the trump of God be heard,
Until the ancient graves be stirred,
And with the great commanding word
The Lord shall come.

O blessed hope! with this elate,
Let not our hearts be desolate,

But, strong in faith, in patience wait,

Until He come.

140-A FEW MORE YEARS SHALL ROLL.

A HYMN of Dr. Bonar's, written in 1842, forty years before his death.

FEW more years shall roll,

AF

A few more seasons come,

And we shall be with those that rest,
Asleep within the tomb;

Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that great day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious Blood,
And take my sins away.

A few more suns shall set
O'er these dark hills of time,

And we shall be where suns are not,
A far serener clime:

Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that bright day;

Oh, wash me in Thy precious Blood,
Ánd take my sins away.

A few more storms shall beat
On this wild rocky shore,

And we shall be where tempests cease,
And surges swell no more:
Then, O my Lord, prepare
My soul for that calm day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious Blood,
And take my sins away.

A few more struggles here,
A few more partings o'er,
A few more toils, a few more tears,
And we shall weep no more :
Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that blest day;
Oh, wash me in Thy precious Blood,
And take my sins away.

'Tis but a little while

And He shall come again,

Who died that we might live, Who lives
That we with Him may reign:

Then, O my Lord, prepare

My soul for that glad day;

Oh, wash me in Thy precious Blood,

And take my sins away.

Amen.

TUNE- "LEOMINSTER 99 OR "CHALVEY."

141-WE PLOUGH THE FIELDS AND
SCATTER.

CLAUDIUS'S "Wir pflügen und wir streuen was first published in German in 1782. It is used both in Germany and in England as a harvest hymn. I give Miss T. M. Campbell's English version.

E plough the fields and scatter

WE

The good seed on the land,

But it is fed and water'd

By God's Almighty Hand;
He sends the snow in winter,
The warmth to swell the grain,
The breezes and the sunshine,
And soft refreshing rain.
All good gifts around us

Are sent from Heav'n above,

Then thank the Lord, Oh, thank the Lord,
For all His love.

He only is the Maker

Of all things near and far;
He paints the wayside flower,
He lights the evening star;
The winds and waves obey Him,
By Him the birds are fed;
Much more to us, His children,
He gives our daily bread.
All good gifts around us

Are sent from Heav'n above,

Then thank the Lord, Oh, thank the Lord,

For all His love.

We thank Thee then, O Father,
For all things bright and good,
The seed-time and the harvest,
Our life, our health, our food;
Accept the gifts we offer

For all Thy love imparts,
And, what Thou most desirest,
Our humble, thankful hearts.
All good gifts around us

Are sent from Heav'n above,

Then thank the Lord, Oh, thank the Lord,

For all His love. Amen.

TUNE - THE WELL-KNOWN ONE BY J. A. P. SCHULZ.

XVII. - Death.

142-COME, LET US JOIN OUR FRIENDS ABOVE.

THE Bishop of Hereford writes me that he thinks the fourth verse one of the finest in the whole range of hymnology." It is the favourite Wesleyan funeral hymn. The author of "Methodist Hymn-Book Notes" used several pages in describing the affecting and happy incidents in connection with the use of this hymn, and says he suppresses many other pages for want of space.

COM

OME, let us join our friends above
Who have obtained the prize,

And, on the eagle-wings of love,
To joys celestial rise.

Let all the saints terrestrial sing,
With those to glory gone;
For all the servants of our King,
On earth and heaven, are one.

One family we dwell in Him,

One church, above, beneath;
Though now divided by the stream,
The narrow stream of death.

One army of the living God,

To His command we bow;

Part of His host have crossed the flood,
And part are crossing now.

Ten thousand to their endless home

This solemn moment fly :

And we are to the margin come,

And we expect to die.

E'en now by faith we join our hands
With those that went before:

And greet the blood-besprinkled bands
On the eternal shore.

Our spirits too shall quickly join,
Like theirs with glory crowned,
And shout to see our Captain's sign,
To hear His trumpet sound.

Be Thou, O God, our constant guide,
And when the word is given,

Then, Lord of Hosts, the waves divide,
And land us all in heaven.

TUNE -"GRETTON."

143 GIVE ME THE WINGS OF FAITH TO RISE.

THIS favourite hymn of Watts was published in 1709, and it has been in general use among all sections of the Church for a century.

GWithin the veil, and see
IVE me the wings of faith to rise

The saints above, how great their joys!
How bright their glories be!

Once they were mourning here below
And wet their couch with tears;
They wrestled hard, as we do now,
With sins and doubts and fears.

I ask them whence their victory came?
They, with united breath,

Ascribe their conquest to the Lamb,
Their triumph to His death.