To Reconcile! It makes us nigh, We see the wood, the knife, the Lamb! There darts from heaven the kindling flame! The real, one, only, Sacrifice From which sweet savour could arise! Sin-offering! Guilt imputed dooms,— Burnt-offering! Hate of sin consumes,— Peace-offering! Endless strife it stays,Thank-offering! Ground of endless praise! Oh, not the flowers of innocence Each Claim and Attribute agree! Father! Who gav'st that bitter cup! VERSIONS OF THE PSALMS. HOW SHALL WE SING THE LORD'S SONG IN A STRANGE LAND?" PSALM THE FIRST. THERE is a scale of downward ill;- Lead to the seat which scorners fill, He who shall shun this prone descent And muses o'er it day and night. He stands a tree 'mid sylvan glades, Bright in the green which never fades, Not so the ungodly; worthless, seared, Severed from all the just, they fly! Thus flames of wrath his foes consume! PSALM THE SECOND. LOUD the defiance, fierce the rage, Though vain the dream, of impious states, With myriad-force and battle-gage, Marshalled by sceptred potentates. Why to this contest will ye rush? Jehovah will the right defend! "T is Heaven's own cause! Its highest claim! That all should honour Christ the Son! Their bands, Their cords, are still the same,Peer with his Father,-They are one! He who in glory sits serene Enthroned upon the sea of glass, He speaks! and baffles all His foes,Writhing sore vexed beneath his feet,"Mean impotents! Can ye depose My King from His anointed seat?" "Thou art my Son !" Jehovah saith! Now breaks Thy Natal, Crowning, Day! First-fruits of dust! First-born of death! Now wield Thy Mediatorial sway! (To whom of all the angel-throng, Was this dread kindred e'er addressed, Since first they woke to life and song, Or round earth's Saviour wondering pressed ?*) * Heb. i. 5. "Thou art my Son,"-The only Line! Take for inheritance the earth! The sceptre of Thy hand shall smite O just decree,―ye princes rise, Confess His claims, receive His words, Be ye instructed, O be wise, He's King of kings, and Lord of lords. Kiss Him! Embracings of the heart, How blessed do all, who trust him, prove! PSALM THE NINETEENTH. JEHOVAH'S glory brightly streams Where suns and planets sweep their march,— Blent yet diffused, as are the beams They scatter round this azure arch. Day, like a herald, lifts its shout,— Night, silent monitress, holds out Her scroll and all its skill expounds! Onward from earth, through all those spheres, Peals deep and long the echoing line,— |