DEAN MILMAN, for ten years Professor of Poetry at Oxford, was born in London, Feb. 10, 1791, and died Sept. 24, 1868. He was at the time of his death Dean of St. Paul's. He is known as the historian of Latin Christianity, and as author of a number of other important works.

WHEN Our heads are bowed with woe,
When our bitter tears o'erflow,
When we mourn the lost, the dear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear.

Thou our throbbing flesh hast worn,
Thou our mortal griefs hast borne,
Thou hast shed the human tear;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear.
When the sullen death-bell tolls
For our own departing souls,
When our final doom is near,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear.
Thou hast bowed the dying head,
Thou the blood of life hast shed,
Thou hast filled a mortal bier;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear.
When the heart is sad within
With the thought of all its sin,
When the spirit shrinks with fear,
Gracious Son of Mary, hear.

Thou, the shame, the grief hast known;
Though the sins were not thine own,
Thou hast deigned their load to bear;
Gracious Son of Mary, hear.

1827.

HENRY HART MILMAN, D. D.

GETHSEMANE.

BEYOND where Cedron's waters flow, Behold the suffering Saviour go

To sad Gethsemane;

His countenance is all divine,
Yet grief appears in every line.

He bows beneath the sins of men;
He cries to God, and cries again,

In sad Gethsemane;

He lifts his mournful eyes above: "My Father, can this cup remove?"

With gentle resignation still

He yielded to his Father's will,
In sad Gethsemane ;

"Behold me here, thine only Son; And, Father, let thy will be done."

The Father heard; and angels there Sustained the son of God in prayer,

In sad Gethsemane ;

He drank the dreadful cup of pain, Then rose to life and joy again.

When storms of sorrow round us sweep, And scenes of anguish make us weep, To sad Gethsemane

We'll look, and see the Saviour there, And humbly bow like him in prayer. SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH, D. D. 1832.

CHRIST OUR EXAMPLE IN SUFFERING.

Go to dark Gethsemane,

Ye that feel the Tempter's power; Your Redeemer's conflict see:

Watch with him one bitter hour: Turn not from his griefs away; Learn of Jesus Christ to pray.

Follow to the judgment-hall;

View the Lord of life arraigned. Oh, the wormwood and the gall! Oh, the pangs his soul sustained! Shun not suffering, shame, or loss: Learn of him to bear the cross.

Calvary's mournful mountain climb;
There, adoring at his feet,
Mark that miracle of time,

God's own sacrifice complete.
It is finished! hear him cry;
Learn of Jesus Christ to die.

See how the nails those hands

And feet so tender rend;

See down his face and neck and breast His sacred blood descend.

Hark, with what awful cry

His spirit takes its flight,

That cry, it smote his mother's heart, And wrapt her soul in night.

Earth hears, and to its base

Rocks wildly to and fro;

How doth the ensanguined thorny crown
That beauteous brow transpierce!
How do the nails those hands and feet
Contract with tortures fierce!

He bows his head, and forth at last
His loving spirit soars ;

Yet even after death his heart
For us its tribute pours.

Beneath the wine-press of God's wrath
His blood for us he drains;

HEAVIER THE CROSS.

"Je grösser Kreuz, je näher Himmel." HEAVIER the cross, the nearer heaven;

No cross without, no God within! Death, judgment from the heart are driven, Amid the world's false glare and din. Oh, happy he, with all his loss, Whom God hath set beneath the cross.

Heavier the cross, the better Christian;

This is the touchstone God applies. How many a garden would be wasting Unwet by showers from weeping eyes! The gold by fire is purified;

The Christian is by trouble tried.

Heavier the cross, the stronger faith:
The loaded palm strikes deeper root;
The vine juice sweetly issueth

When men have pressed the clustered fruit;
And courage grows where dangers come,
Like pearls beneath the salt sea-foam.
Heavier the cross, the heartier prayer;
The bruised herbs most fragrant are.
If sky and wind were always fair
The sailor would not watch the star;
And David's Psalms had ne'er been sung
If grief his heart had never wrung.
Heavier the cross, the more aspiring;

From vales we climb to mountain-crest;