--which last may have been written soon after he laid three of his children in one grave, in the north aisle of Westminster Abbey. He lived a laborious and useful life of seventy-seven years, dying Sept. 24, 1868. There were times in the old revivals when the silver clarion of the "Chariot Hymn" must needs replace the ruder blast of Occum in old "Ganges" and sinners unmoved by the invisible God of Horeb be made to behold Him--in a vision of the "Last Day." The Chariot! the Chariot! its wheels roll in fire When the Lord cometh down in the pomp of His ire, Lo, self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud, And the heavens with the burden of Godhead are bowed. * * * * * The Judgment! the Judgment! the thrones are all set, Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met; There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord, And the doom of eternity hangs on His word. The name "Williams" or "J. Williams" is attached to various editions of the trumpet-like tune, but so far no guide book gives us location, date or sketch of the composer. "COME, MY BRETHREN." Another of the "unstudied" revival hymns of invitation. Come, my brethren, let us try For a little season Every burden to lay by, Come and let us reason. What is this that casts you down. What is this that grieves you? Speak and let your wants be known; Speaking may relieve you. This colloquial rhyme was apt to be started by some good brother or sister in one of the chilly pauses of a prayer-meeting. The air (there was never anything more to it) with a range of only a fifth, slurred the last syllable of every second line, giving the quaint effect of a bent note, and altogether the music was as homely as the verse. Both are anonymous. But the little chant sometimes served its purpose wonderfully well. "BRETHREN, WHILE WE SOJOURN HERE." This hymn was always welcome in the cottage meetings as well as in the larger greenwood assemblies. It was written by Rev. Joseph Swain, about 1783. Brethren, while we sojourn here Fight we must, but should not fear. Foes we have, but we've a Friend, One who loves us to the end; Forward then with courage go; Long we shall not dwell below, Soon the joyful news will come, "Child, your Father calls, 'Come home.'" The tune was sometimes "Pleyel's Hymn," but oftener it was sung to a melody now generally forgotten of much the same movement but slurred in peculiarly sweet and tender turns. The cadence of the last tune gave the refrain line a melting effect: Child, your Father calls, "Come home." Some of the spirit of this old tune (in the few hymnals where the hymn is now printed) is preserved in Geo. Kingsley's "Messiah" which accompanies the words, but the modulations are wanting.