George Rawson (1807-89) has won a wider recognition than any other English Nonconformist hymn-writer of the century, except Montgomery. He was a solicitor in Leeds, and took part in the preparation of the _Leeds Hymn-book_. His Communion hymn, ‘By Christ redeemed, in Christ restored,’ his Evening hymn, ‘God the Father, be Thou near,’ and his Litany of the Holy Spirit, ‘Come to our poor nature’s night,’ are his most beautiful contributions to our hymnals, but several of his less-known poems are bright, simple, and melodious. His version of Ps. lxxxiv. would have been better known if Lyte’s had not been written. Thomas Hornblower Gill’s (b. 1819) is a very distinct voice in the choir. He will, I fear, have but a small place in the hymn-books of the future, though there is an individuality and force in many of his hymns which make them singularly attractive. Unfortunately, he often uses an unusual word or phrase which diverts the worshipper’s mind from what is said to the form in which it is expressed. Again, he is too fond of the epithets ‘dear’ and ‘sweet,’ which is the more to be regretted, as his hymns are never what Wesley called ‘namby-pambycal,’ but have a fine, robust tone, and often a stirring rhythm. He has much of the Puritan spirit. One of his best hymns, ‘Lord, in the fulness of my might,’[196] has for its text Cromwell’s saying, ‘How good it is to close with Christ betimes.’ In the Congregational and Baptist books Mr. Gill is largely represented. I hope the inclusion of a few of his hymns in the _Methodist Hymn-book_ will make him known to a still wider circle. I have marked many of his hymns for quotation, for they have been dear to me from my boyhood, when I made acquaintance with them through George Dawson’s hymn-book. Those I quote are chosen, not because they are specially suitable for use in public worship, but because there is so much of force and freshness in both thought and expression. The hymn on ‘Free Grace’ has also a motto from Cromwell—‘I have had plentiful wages beforehand, and I am sure I shall never earn the least mite.’ Lord! dost Thou ne’er Thy servants bless Until their work is done? Dost Thou withhold Thy tenderness Till they the meed have won? Lord! dost Thou reckon with Thine own Like taskmasters below? First must the handiwork be shown? Wilt Thou the wages owe? Nay, Lord! to Thy dear servants fall The wages long before; The Taskmaster Celestial Hath paid them o’er and o’er. How can they reckon up the grace Each hour, each minute brings? How store Thy gifts? how find a place For all their precious things? Hath not the Son their ransom paid, And brought them near to God? Yes! hath not the sweet Spirit made Their souls His dear abode? O boundless treasure all unearned! O wages given for nought! Bestowed ere once their hearts have yearned, Ere once their hands have wrought.