and staff of which it speaks, to guide and guard them in dark valleys, and at last through the darkest." Of its helpfulness in times of crisis many instances are given, of which that which appeals most to me is the story of Marion Harvey, the servant lass of twenty who was executed at Edinburgh with Isabel Alison for having attended the preaching of Donald Cargill and for helping his escape. As the brave lasses were being led to the scaffold a curate pestered them with his prayers. "Come, Isabel," said Marion, "let us sing the Twenty-third Psalm." And sing it they did, a thrilling duet on their pilgrimage to the gallows tree. It was rough on the Covenanters in those days, and their paths did not exactly, to outward seeming, lead them by the green pastures and still waters. But they got there somehow, the Twenty-third Psalm helping them no little. This was the psalm John Ruskin first learnt at his mother's knee. It was this which Edward Irving recited at the last as he lay dying. Even poor Heinrich Heine, on his mattress-grave, in one of his latest poems, recalls the image of the Shepherd guide whose "pastures green and sweet refresh the wanderer's weary feet." The magnificent assurance of the fourth verse has in every age given pluck to the heart of the timid and strengthened the nerve of heroes. When St. Francis of Assisi went alone, bareheaded and barefoot, to convert the Sultan, he kept up his spirit on his solitary pilgrimage by chanting this verse. The Moslems did him no harm, and instead of taking off his head, returned him safe and sound to the pale of Christendom.
"GIVE TO THE WINDS THY FEARS."
Mr. Stevenson, in his "Notes on the Methodist Hymn Book," says: "There is not a hymn in the book which has afforded more comfort and encouragement than this to the Lord's tried people." The legend connected with this hymn recalls the delightful tales in the lives of the saints. Its origin is not unworthy the record of its subsequent exploits. Gerhardt was exiled from Brandenburg by the Grand Elector in 1659. The said Grand Elector wished to "tune his pulpits." Gerhardt refused to preach save what he found in God's Word. Notice to quit thereupon being promptly served upon the intrepid preacher, he tramped forth a homeless exile, accompanied by his wife and children. Wife and weans at night, wearied and weeping, sought refuge in a wayside inn. Gerhardt, unable to comfort them, went out into the wood to pray. As he prayed, the text "Commit thy way unto the Lord, trust also in Him and He shall bring it to pass" recurred to his mind, and comforted him so amazingly that he paced to and fro under the forest trees and began composing a hymn which, being Englished by John Wesley, has deservedly become a great comfort to all English-speaking peoples. Returning to the inn, he cheered his wife with his text and his hymn, and they went to bed rejoicing in confident hope that God would take care of them. They had hardly retired before a thunderous knocking at the door roused them all. It was a mounted messenger from Duke Christian of Meresberg, riding in hot haste to deliver a sealed packet to Dr. Gerhardt. The good doctor opened it, and read therein a hearty invitation from the duke, who offered him "church, people, home, and livelihood, and liberty to preach the Gospel as your heart may prompt you." So, adds the chronicle, the Lord took care of His servant. Here is the hymn which was composed under such singular circumstances:
1 Give to the winds thy fears;
Hope, and be undismayed:
God hears thy sighs, and counts thy tears:
God shall lift up thy head.
Through waves, through clouds and storms
He gently clears the way.
Wait thou His time; so shall the night
Soon end in joyous day.
2 He everywhere hath sway,
And all things serve His might;
His every act pure blessing is,
His path unsullied light.
When He makes bare His arm,
What shall His work withstand?
When He His people's cause defends,
Who, who shall stay His hand?
3 Leave to His sovereign will
To choose, and to command;
With wonder filled, thou then shalt own
How wise, how strong His hand.
Thou comprehend'st Him not;
Yet earth and heaven tell,
God sits as Sovereign on the throne;
He ruleth all things well.
4 Thou seest our weakness, Lord;
Our hearts are known to Thee.
O lift Thou up the sinking hand;
Confirm the feeble knee.
Let us, in life and death,
Boldly Thy truth declare;
And publish, with our latest breath,
Thy love and guardian care.
Tune—Dr Gauntlett's "St. George.'"
