Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining,

Low lies his bed with the beasts of the

stall;

Angels adore him in slumber reclining,

Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all.

Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odors of Eden, and offerings divine,
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the

ocean,

Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation; Vainly with gold would his favor secure; Richer by far is the heart's adoration,

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor!

Brightest and best of the sons of the morn

ing,

Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine

aid!

Star of the east the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.

LIVING TO CHRIST.

[Moravian Hymn.

O DRAW me, Saviour, after Thee,

So shall I run and never tire

With gracious words still comfort me :
Be Thou, my hope, my sole desire
Free me from every weight: nor fear
Nor sin can come, if Thou art here.

In suffering be thy love my peace,

In weakness be thy love my power: And when the storms of life shall cease Jesus, in that important hour,

In death, as life, be thou my guide,

And save me, who for me hast died!

FORSAKING ALL FOR CHRIST.

JESUS, I my cross have taken,

All to leave, and follow thee;

Naked, poor, despis'd, forsaken,

Thou, from hence, my all shall be ; Perish every fond ambition,

All I've sought, or hop'd, or known,

Yet how rich is my condition,

God and heaven are still my own.

[Grant.

Let the world despise and leave me;

They have left my Saviour too : Human hearts and looks deceive me,

Thou art not, like them, untrue;

And whilst thou shalt smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love, and might,

Foes may hate, and friends may scorn me,
Show thy face, and all is bright.

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure,
Come disaster, scorn, and pain,

In thy service pain is pleasure,
With thy favor loss is gain.

I have call'd thee Abba, Father,
1 have set my heart on thee,
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather,
All must work for good to me.

Man may trouble and distress me,

"Twill but drive me to thy breast;

Life with trials hard may press me,

Heaven will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh! 'tis not in grief to harm me,

While thy love is left to me;
Oh! 'twere not in joy to charm me;
Were that joy unmix'd with thee.

Soul, then know thy full salvation,
Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care,

Joy to find in every station

Something still to do or bear;

Think what Spirit dwells within thee; Think what Father's smiles are thine;

Think that Jesus died to win thee:

Child of heaven canst thou repine ?

Haste thee on from grace to glory, Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by prayer; Heaven's eternal days before thee,

God's own hand shall guide thee there.