Strive as God’s saints have striven in all ages;
Press those slow steps where firmer feet have trod: 
For us their lives adorn the sacred pages,
For them a crown of glory is with God. 
Soldiers of Jesus! &c.

Peace! peace! sweet voices bring an ancient story,
(Such songs angelic melodies employ,)
“Hard is the strife, but unconceived the glory: 
Short is the pain, eternal is the joy.” 
Soldiers of Jesus! &c.

On!  Christian souls, all base temptations spurning,
Drown coward thoughts in Faith’s triumphant hymn;
Since Jesus suffer’d, our salvation earning,
Shall we not toil that we may rest with Him? 
Soldiers of Jesus! &c.  Amen.

WHITSUNTIDE.

Come down! come down!  O Holy Ghost! 
As once of old Thou didst come down
In fiery tongues at Pentecost,
The Apostolic heads to crown.

    Come down! though now no flame divine,
      Nor heaven-sent Dove, our sight amaze;
    Our Church still shows the outward sign,
      Thou truly givest inward grace.

    Come down! come down! on infancy,
      The babes whom Jesus deign’d to love;
    God give us grace by faith to see,
      Above the Font, the mystic Dove.

    Come down! come down! on kneeling bands
      Of those who fain would strength receive;
    And in the laying on of hands
      Bless us beyond what we believe.

    Come down! not only on the saint,
      Oh! struggle with the hard of heart,
    With wilful sin and inborn taint,
      Till lust, and wrath, and pride depart.

    Come down! come down! sweet Comforter! 
      It was the promise of the Lord. 
    Come down! although we grieve Thee sore,
      Not for our merits—­but His Word.

    Come down! come down! not what we would,
      But what we need, O bring with Thee. 
    Turn life’s sore riddle to our good;
      A little while and we shall see.  Amen.

    CHRISTMAS WISHES.

    A CAROL.

Oh, happy Christmas, full of blessings, come! 
Now bid our discords cease;
Here give the weary ease;
Let the long-parted meet again in peace;
Bring back the far-away;
Grant us a holiday;
And by the hopes of Christmas-tide we pray—­
Let love restore the fallen to his Home;
Whilst up and down the snowy streets the Christmas minstrels sing;
And through the frost from countless towers the bells of
Christmas ring.

Ah, Christ! and yet a happier day shall come! 
Then bid our discords cease;
There give the weary ease;
Let the long-parted meet again in peace;
Bring back the far-away;
Grant us a holiday;
And by the hopes of Christmas-tide we pray—­
Let love restore the fallen to his Home;
Whilst up and down the golden streets the blessed angels sing,
And evermore the heavenly chimes in heavenly cadence ring.