We would redeem Thy holy land,

That land which Sin so long has trod.

Send us where'er Thou wilt, O Lord! Through rugged toil and wearying flight; Thy conquering love shall be our sword, And faith in Thee our truest might.

Send down Thy constant aid, we pray ;
Be Thy pure angels with us still;
Thy truth, be that our firmest stay;
Our only rest, to do Thy will.

N. L. FROTHINGHAM.

CHURCH BUILDING.

HE perfect world by Adam trod,
Was the first temple built by God:
His fiat laid the corner-stone,

And heaved its pillars, one by one.

He hung its starry roof on high-
The broad illimitable sky;

He spread its pavement, green and bright,
And curtained it with morning light.

The mountains in their places stood,
The sea, the sky,—and "all was good;"
And when its first pure praises rang,
The "morning stars together sang."

Lord! 'tis not ours to make the sea
And earth and sky a house for Thee;
But in Thy sight our offering stands—
A humbler temple, "made with hands."
N. P. WILLIS.

THE PRIEST THAT MUST BE.

(HOU art to be a priest in holy
things;

A minister of thy great Maker,
God!

Oh! all of earth that to thy earth-heart clings,And all the bribe-gifts that the fair world brings,

All that the Tempter's voice most sweetly

In Christ's eternal priesthood thou wilt share,
To reconcile to God His sinful sons:
Ambassadors from God, thou, too, shalt wear
His very person, and thy tongue shall dare
In Christ's stead, to beseech the erring ones.

Who is enough for this far-reaching work?

At whose poor heart doth not the vile worm lurk?

This priceless trust in earthen case is set:

Who holds it falls, if he do once forget

In God's gift, only, might and worth are

met.

When, in Christ's name and stead, thou shalt beseech,

His loving Gospel to the others preach,

And pledges of God's grace share forth to each ;

When other hearts lie open to thine own,

Eyes trusting look to thee, as on a throne; Nothing but Christ's rich blood can for thyself

atone.

Bethink thee, well, how one may speak true blame

Of deadly sin, and load it thick with shame; One may bear charge for God and take Christ's

name,

And yet, at Reckoning, may be cast off,

A woe to loving ones, to friends a scoff.

But oh, what deeper loss shall his be, then, Who, of his priesthood, made a lure to men! Who drew in weaker souls, and led them

wrong:

His Gospel but a witching, wicked song!

Where, out of God's great love, shall that bad wretch belong!

Lift up thy faith beyond the inner sky

Where, in deep peace, GOD ever sits on high: Amid all sounds which meet there in His

praise,―

Which worlds and hosts, cherubs and seraphs raise

To Him, far off and near, Ancient of Days, One, only God, thrice holy Three in One, Beyond time's death, as ere time was begun, There He that calls thee in dread stillness

sits,

While, flashing everywhere, high, glorious music flits.

To Him the rain-drop plashing on the sea,
The winged seed wafted from the forest-tree,
The insect's gaspings, and the sun's swift ray
Kindling up countless atoms in its way,
Each after each, to bring to earth the day

All, all are heard,-all things are heard,-yet

He

Hears thy thoughts moving in the midst of thee.

Let not the busy world, with its loud din,