In short, the flood tide of 1904 and 1905 brought in very little new music and very few new hymns. "Aberystwyth" and "Tanymarian," the minor harmonies of Joseph Party and Stephens; E.M. Price's "St. Garmon;" R.M. Pritchard's, "Hyfrydol," and a few others, were choral favorites, but their composers were all dead, and the congregations loved the still older singers who had found familiar welcome at their altars and firesides. The most cherished and oftenest chosen hymns were those of William Williams and Ann Griffiths, of Charles Wesley, of Isaac Watts--indeed the very tongues of fire that appeared at Jerusalem took on the Cymric speech, and sang the burning lyrics of the poet-saints. And in their revival joy Calvinistic Wales sang the New Testament with more of its Johannic than of its Pauline texts. The covenant of peace--Christ and His Cross--is the theme of all their hymns. "HERE BEHOLD THE TENT OF MEETING." _Dyma Babell y cyfarfod._ This hymn, written by Ann Griffiths, is entitled "Love Eternal," and praises the Divine plan to satisfy the Law and at the same time save the sinner. The first stanza gives an idea of the thought: Here behold the tent of meeting, In the blood a peace with heaven, Refuge from the blood-avengers, For the sick a Healer given. Here the sinner nestles safely At the very Throne divine, And Heaven's righteous law, all holy. Still on him shall smile and shine. "HOW SWEET THE COVENANT TO REMEMBER." _Bydd melus gofio y cyfammod._ This, entitled "Mysteries of Grace," is also from the pen of Ann Griffiths. It has the literalness noticeable in much of the Welsh religious poetry, and there is a note of pietism in it. The two last stanzas are these: He is the great Propitiation Who with the thieves that anguish bare; He nerved the arms of His tormentors To drive the nails that fixed Him there. While He discharged the sinner's ransom, And made the Law in honor be, Righteousness shone undimmed, resplendent, And me the Covenant set free. My soul, behold Him laid so lowly, Of peace the Fount, of Kings the Head, The vast creation in Him moving And He low-lying with the dead! The Life and portion of lost sinners, The marvel of heaven's seraphim, To sea and land the God Incarnate The choir of heaven cries, "Unto Him!" Ann Griffiths' earliest hymn will be called her sweetest. Fortunately, too, it is more poetically translated. It was before the vivid consciousness and intensity of her religious experience had given her spiritual writings a more involved and mystical expression. My soul, behold the fitness Of this great Son of God, Trust Him for life eternal And cast on Him thy load, A man--touched with the pity Of every human woe, A God--to claim the kingdom And vanquish every foe.