Who art Thou, the valleys seeking

Where our peaceful harvests wave?
I, in righteous anger speaking,
I, the mighty One to save.

I, that of the raging heathen
Trod the wine-press all alone,
Now in victor garlands wreathen
Coming to redeem Mine own.
I am He with sprinkled raiment
Glorious from My vengeance hour,
Ransoming with priceless payment,
And delivering with power.

Hail! all hail Thou Lord of glory!
Thee our Father, Thee we own,
Abraham heard not our story,

Israel ne'er our name hath known.
But Redeemer, Thou hast sought us,
Thou hast heard Thy children wail,
Thou, with Thy dear blood hast bought us,
Hail, Thou mighty victor, Hail!

Epistle.

Doubtless Thou art our Father, though Abraham be ignorant of us, and Israel acknowledge us not: Thou, O Lord, art our Father, our Redeemer; Thy Name is from everlasting.

ISAIAH Ixiii. 16.

But was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.

HEB. iv. 15.

LORD, Thou in all things like wert made

To us, yet free from sin:-
Then, how unlike to us, Thou wert,
Replies the voice within.

O holy God! yet frail weak man!
Becomes us not to know

How spotless soul and body felt
Temptation, pain, and woe.

Our faith is weak;-0 Light of Light!
Clear Thou our clouded view;

That Son of Man, and Son of God,

We give Thee honour due.

O Son of man! Thyself hast proved
Our trials and our tears;
Life's thankless toil and scant repose,
Death's agonies and fears.

O Son of God! in glory raised,

Thou sittest on Thy throne;

Thence, by Thy pleadings and Thy grace, Still succouring Thine own.

Brother and Saviour, Friend and Judge! To Thee, O Christ, is given

To bind upon Thy Crown the names

Most blest in earth and Heaven.

His name shall be in their foreheads.

REV. xxii. 4.

Nevertheless, not My will, but Thine, be done.

ST. LUKE Xxii. 42.

NOT in Thine hours of conflict, Lord;

Nor when the tempting fiend was nigh; Nor when that bitter cup was poured,

Thy garden agony :—

Nor then, when uttermost Thy need,

Seemed light across Thy soul to break,
No seraph form was seen to speed,
No voice of comfort spake;
Till, by Thine own revealed word,

The victory o'er the fiend was won;-
Till the sweet mournful cry was heard,
"Thy will, not Mine, be done!"

Then to the desert sped the Blest,

And food, and peace, and joy, conveyed;

Then one, more favoured than the rest,

Glanced to the olive shade.

Lord! bring those precious moments back, When fainting, against sin we strain; Or in Thy counsels fail to track

Aught but the present pain! In darkness help us to contend;

In darkness, yield to Thee our will; And true hearts, faithful to the end, Cheer by Thine Angels still!

And, behold, Angels came and ministered unto Him.