shire. There, enjoying the hospitality of a small suite of rooms, he lived in happy retirement for twenty years, universally respected and beloved. Queen Anne offered to restore him to the see of Bath and Wells, but he declined the position, "with grateful thanks for her majesty's gracious remembrance of him, having long since determined to remain in privacy."

He died in March, 1710, and was buried in the churchyard of Frome. He had requested that six of the poorest men of the parish might carry him to his grave, and that he might be interred without pomp or ceremony. This accordingly was the manner of his burial.

"The moral character of Ken," says Lord Macaulay, “when impartially reviewed, sustains a comparison with any in ecclesiastical history, and seems to approach, as near as any human infirmity permits, to the ideal of Christian perfection."

KEN'S MORNING HYMN.

ORIGINAL TEXT of 1697.

AWAKE, my soul, and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run;
Shake off dull sloth, and early rise
To pay thy morning sacrifice.

Redeem thy misspent time that's past,
And live this day as if thy last;
Improve thy talent with due care,
'Gainst the great day thyself prepare.
Let all thy converse be sincere,
Thy conscience as the noonday clear;
Think how all-seeing GOD thy ways
And all thy secret thoughts surveys.

Influenced of the Light divine

Let thine own light in good works shine;
Reflect all heaven's propitious rays
In ardent love and cheerful praise.

Wake and lift up thyself, my heart,
And with the angels bear thy part,
Who all night long unwearied sing
Glory to the Eternal King.

I wake, I wake, ye heavenly choir,
May your devotion me inspire,
That I like you my age may spend,
Like you may on my GOD attend.

May I like you in GOD delight,
Have all day long my GOD in sight,
Perform like you my Maker's will,
Oh may I never more do ill.

Had I your wings to heaven I'd fly;
But GOD shall that defect supply,
And my soul, winged with warm desire,
Shall all day long to heaven aspire.

Glory to thee who safe hast kept,
And hast refreshed me while I slept;
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake,
I may of endless light partake.

I would not wake, nor rise again,
E'en heaven itself I would disdain,
Wert not thou there to be enjoyed,
And I in hymns to be employed.

Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er thou art;
Oh never then from me depart:
For to my soul 't is hell to be,
But for a moment without thee.

Lord, I my vows to thee renew;
Scatter my sins as morning dew;

Guard my first springs of thought and will,
And with thyself my spirit fill.

Direct, control, suggest this day,

All I design, or do, or say;

That all my powers, with all their might

In thy sole glory may unite.

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow:

Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye angelic host,
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

KEN'S EVENING HYMN.

ORIGINAL TEXT OF 1697.

GLORY to Thee, my GOD, this night
For all the blessings of the light;
Keep me, oh keep me, KING of kings,
Under thine own Almighty wings.

Forgive me, LORD, for thy dear SON,
The ills that I this day have done,
That with the world, myself, and thee,
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be.

Teach me to live, that I may dread
The grave as little as my bed;
Teach me to die, that so I may
Triumphing rise at the last day.

Oh may my soul on thee repose,

And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close, Sleep that shall me more vigorous make To serve my GOD when I awake.

When in the night I sleepless lie,
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply;
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest,
No powers of darkness me molest.

Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive!
I am but half my days alive;
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved
To lie so long of thee bereaved.

But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns,
Let it not hold me long in chains,
And now and then let loose my heart,
Till it a hallelujah dart.

The faster sleep the sense does bind,
The more unfettered is the mind,
Oh may my soul, from matter free,
Thy unveiled goodness waking see.

Oh when shall I, in endless day,
For ever chase dark sleep away,

And endless praise with the heavenly choir

Incessant sing, and never tire?

You, my blest guardian, whilst I sleep,
Close to my bed your vigils keep,

Divine love into me instil,

Stop all the avenues of ill.

Thought to thought with my soul converse,

Celestial joys to me rehearse,

And in my stead all the night long,

Sing to my God a grateful song.

Praise GOD from whom all blessings flow: Praise Him all creatures here below.

Praise Him above, ye angelic host:

Praise FATHER, SON, and HOLY GHOST.

"ROCK OF AGES.”

THE hymn beginning,

"Rock of Ages, cleft for

me,"

may well be esteemed one of the brightest gems of Christian psalmody. It holds a place in the affections of the church, second, perhaps, only to Charles Wesley's deep spiritual petition,

"Jesus, lover of my soul."

It is a grand tone that nerves and strengthens faith, that associates the sublime imagery of the Hebrew Scriptures with the all-protecting love of Christ, and that has consoled thousands of Christians in the dying hour. The late Prince Consort repeated the first stanza on his bed of death, and found in it the perfect interpretation of the sentiment of his hopeful Christian experience.

Augustus Montague Toplady, the author, was born at Farnham, Surrey, England in 1740. His father fell at the battle of Carthagena, and he was brought up in charge of an exemplary and pious mother. He was

educated at Westminster school.

At the age of sixteen, Toplady chanced to go into a barn at an obscure place, called Codymain, Ireland, to hear an illiterate layman preach. The sermon made upon him an unexpected impression and led to his immediate conversion. He thus speaks of this interesting experience in his diary: "That sweet text, 'Ye who sometime were afar off are made nigh by the blood of Christ.' was particularly delightful and refreshing to my soul. It was from that passage that Mr. Morris preached on the