Where Latimer and Ridley fell

Your manly hearts shall glow,

Nor keep to their sleep,

While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy tempests blow.

Britannia needs no bulwark,

Her sons their freedom keep;

Her truth is like the ocean waves,
That roll around her steep;

With thunders from her hearts of oak,
She quells the floods below-

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy tempests blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow.

The meteor-flag of England

Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart,

And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye faithful warriors,
Our praise shall rise and flow,
To the fame of your name

When the storm has ceased to blow,
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow!

THE ONE OBLATION, ONCE OFFERED.

"Who made then, by his one oblation of himself once offered, a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice, oblation, and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world." COMMUNION SERVICE.

"ONCE OFFERED"-and offered for all,
I look to the Lamb that was slain,
Oblation appointed the curse to recal,
And buy back my glory again.

"Once offered"-a ransom complete,

From sorrow, from sin, and from shame; He purchas'd my crown, to be laid at his feet, And my harp, to be strung to his name.

Then what can your masses avail,

Your wafer-gods do for my soul?

Since Jesus has died-and His blood cannot fail,

In cleansing and making me whole.

Oh! tell me not, fondly deceived,

Of your

66

prayers for the souls of the

dead;"

I'm alive, and for ever, since first I believed,

You may offer your praises instead.

Let others abandon their faith,

For the follies that Rome may supply,

I live on the truth, that will serve me in death, And believing, I never can die.

No mass shall be offered for me,

Since Jesus has suffered-is slain; And who would the blasphemous regicide be To crucify Jesus again ?—

No mass shall be sung for my soul,

When this earth has returned to its rest;

For beyond where the stars of the firmament roll,

"Twill be joining the song of the blest.

Then away

with your

follies!-away

With your masses, for sin to atone !

My soul and its sin I'm contented to lay

On Jesus-and Jesus alone!

SONG OF THE IRISH CONVERTS.

WE have come-we have come-from the rocky west,

Where ocean's waves are breaking,

Like a frighted sea-bird longing rest,
The threat'ning main forsaking:

For to land he flies,

Ere the storm arise

To rock his wat❜ry pillow;

When he hears the note

Of the winds afloat,

Like a groan from the distant billow.

We have heard the note of the coming blast, From Jehovah's anger swelling;

We have marked the blue skies overcast,

Of gath'ring tempest telling: