how dear to his soul had become those spiritual mysteries of which apostles wrote and prophets sung.

I hear at morn and even,

At noon and midnight hour,
The choral harmonies of heaven
Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower.

Then, then I feel that He,
Remembered or forgot,

The Lord is never far from me,
Though I perceive him not.

THOMAS OLIVERS.

"He was the worst boy that had been known in all that country for thirty years," wrote one of Thomas Olivers, a poor, fatherless boy, who in the friendlessness of youth had been led astray, and whose life had become continual dishonor.

But this youth had a tender conscience, which burned within him like a flame in his lonely hours, and, in all of his lapses and far-wanderings, he was ever resolving to amend his ways and to lead a life that would restore to him a calm mind.

At last these resolutions got the better of his moral weakness. He began to pray. At one time he prayed so often that his knees were made stiff by kneeling. But he was still weak, and was often led astray by profligate companions, and fell into open crime.

Conscience at length asserted its authority. He was completely broken down by an overwhelming sense of guilt. He felt now that there was no power within himself to save himself from evil, and that he must rely

wholly upon Jesus as his Saviour, and the helpfulness of Divine providence and grace for salvation.

His prayers were now answered. Providence led him to an old seaport town in England, where Whitefield had an appointment to preach. He determined to go and hear the discourse of the great preacher, which promised to be helpful in a case like his.

"When the sermon began," he says, "I was one of the most abandoned and profligate young men living, before it ended I was a new creature." He was enabled

at once to cast himself on the mercy of his Saviour, and felt at once uplifted and sustained by a strong arm-an experience that filled him with devout thankfulness to his dying day.

'The worst boy in all that country" was now a happy man. Besetting sins lost their attractions; heavenly joys were his continually. His faith was triumphant and majestic. "I saw God in everything," he said; "the heavens and the earth, and all therein, showed me something of Him."

He became a preacher. He was ready to endure any hardship, any persecution, anything for the strong love of Christ. In an hour of gratitude for so great a deliverance, and for such mighty power to uphold his soul, he thus penned his experience, which has become one of the thanksgivings of the ages:

I. THE God of Abram praise,

Who reigns enthroned above:
Ancient of everlasting days,
And God of love:

The watery deep I pass,
With Jesus in my view;

And through the howling wilderness
My way pursue.

The goodly land I see,

With peace and plenty blest;

A band of sacred liberty

And endless rest.

There milk and honey flow,

And oil and wine abound;
And trees of life for ever grow,
With mercy crowned.

There dwells the Lord our King,
The Lord our Righteousness,
Triumphant o'er the world and sin,
The Prince of Peace:

On Zion's sacred height,

His kingdom still maintains;

And, glorious, with his saints in light
For ever reigns.

HYMNS OF MADAME GUYON.

THE hymns of Madame Guyon, which are to be found in Cowper's complete works, among his translations, or which have been translated in part by Dr. Thomas Upham, and a few of which are found in the hymn-books, deserve to be better known and understood. They are the flowers and fruits of a very unusual and interesting religious experience

Madame Jeanne de la Motte Guyon was born at Montargis, in 1648, and was educated, according to the