Son of holiest consolation,

When thou turn'dst thine hand to gold,
And thy gold to strong salvation,
Leaving all, by Christ to hold:

Type of Priest and Monarch, casting
All their crowns before the Throne,
And the treasure everlasting

Heaping in the world unknown.
Now in gems their relics lie,
And their names in blazonry,
And their forms from storied panes,
Gleam athwart their own loved fanes,

Each his several radiance flinging

On the sacred altar floor,

Whether great ones much are bringing,
Or their mite the mean and poor.

Bring them all, thy choicest treasure,
Heap it high and hide it deep:
Thou shalt win o'erflowing measure,
Thou shalt climb where skies are steep.
For as heaven's true only light
Quickens all those forms so bright,
So where Bounty never faints,
There the Lord is with his saints,
Mercy's sweet contagion spreading

Far and wide from heart to heart,
From his wounds atonement shedding
On the blessed widow's part.

EVENING.

"Abide with us, for it is towards evening, and the day is far spent."-ST. LUKE XXIV. 29.

'Tis gone, that bright and orbéd blaze,
Fast fading from our wistful gaze;
Yon mantling cloud has hid from sight
The last faint pulse of quivering light.

In darkness and in weariness

The traveller on his way must press,
No gleam to watch on tree or tower,
Whiling away the lonesome hour.

Sun of my soul! Thou Saviour dear,
It is not night if Thou be near;
Oh! may no earth-born cloud arise
To hide Thee from thy servant's

eyes.

When round thy wondrous works below
My searching rapturous glance I throw,
Tracing out Wisdom, Power, and Love,
In earth or sky, in stream or grove :

Or by the light thy words disclose,
Watch Times' full river as it flows,
Scanning thy gracious Providence,
Where not too deep for mortal sense:

When with dear friends sweet talk I hold,
And all the flowers of life unfold;
Let not my heart within me burn,
Except in all I Thee discern.

When the soft dews of kindly sleep
My wearied eyelids gently steep,
Be my last thought how sweet to rest
For ever on my Saviour's breast.

Abide with me from morn till eve,
For without Thee I cannot live;
Abide with me when night is nigh,
For without Thee I dare not die.

Thou Framer of the light and dark,

Steer through the tempest thine own ark:

Amid the howling wintry sea

We are in port if we have Thee.*

"Then they willingly received Him into the ship: and immediately the ship was at the land whither they went."-St. John, vi. 21.

The rulers of this Christian land,
"Twixt Thee and us ordained to stand,-
Guide Thou their course, O Lord, aright,
Let all do all as in thy sight.

Oh! by thine own sad burden, borne
So meekly up the hill of scorn,
Teach Thou thy Priests their daily cross
To bear as thine, nor count it loss!

If some poor wandering child of thine
Have spurned, to-day, the voice divine,
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin;
Let him no more lie down in sin.

Watch by the sick, enrich the poor
With blessings from thy boundless store:
Be every mourner's sleep to-night
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light.

Come near and bless us when we wake,
Ere through the world our way we take;
Till in the ocean of thy love

We lose ourselves in heaven above.

DR. FABER, at present priest superior of the Church. of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, more popularly known as "The Oratory," Brompton, was formerly a fellow of University College, Oxford, and a clergyman of the Church of England. In 1840, he published "The