THE STRANGER.

Stripped, wounded, beaten nigh to death,

I found him by the highway side;

I roused his pulse, brought back his breath-
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment; he was healed.
I had, myself, a wound concealed-
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In prison I saw him next, condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him midst shame and scorn.

My friendship's utmost zeal to try,

He asked if I for him would die ;

The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill,

But the free spirit cried, "I will.”

Then in a moment, to my view,

The stranger darted from disguise;

The tokens in his hands I knew

My Saviour stood before mine eyes.
He spake; and my poor name he named-
"Of Me thou hast not been ashamed;

These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not! thou didst them unto me."

373

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

The Seraph throwing off his Disguise.

WILD sparkling rage inflames the Father's eyes,

He bursts the bonds of fear, and madly cries,
"Detested wretch !"-but scarce his speech began,
When the strange partner seemed no longer man.
His youthful face grew more serenely sweet,
His robe turned white, and flowed upon his feet;
Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair,
Celestial odors fill the empurpled air:
While wings, whose colors glittered on the day,
Wide at his back their gradual plumes display.
The form ethereal bursts upon his sight,

And moves in all the majesty of light!

THOMAS PARNELL.

Christus Consolator.

Σὺν Χριστῷ πολλῷ μᾶλλον κρεῖσσων.

H

OPE of those that have none other,

Left for life by father, mother,

All their dearest lost or taken,

Only not by thee forsaken;

Comfort thou the sad and lonely,

Saviour dear, for thou canst only.

When the glooms of night are o'er us,
Satan in his strength before us:

When despair, and doubt, and terror

Drag the blinded heart to error,
Comfort thou the poor and lonely,

Saviour dear, for thou canst only.

"HOW AMIABLE ARE THY TABERNACLES." 375

By thy days of earthly trial,

By thy friend's foreknown denial,
By thy cross of bitter anguish,
Leave not thou thy lambs to languish;
Comforting the weak and lonely,
Lead them in thy pastures only.

Sick with hope deferred, or yearning
For the never-now-returning,

When the glooms of grief o'ershade us,
Thou hast known, and thou wilt aid us!
To thine own heart take the lonely,

Leaning on thee only, only.

FRANCIS T. PALGRAVE,

66

How amiable are Thy Tabernacles."

LEASANT are Thy courts above

PLEAS

In the land of light and love:

Pleasant are thy courts below
In this land of sin and woe.
Oh my spirit longs and faints
For the converse of Thy saints,
For the brightness of Thy face,
For Thy fullness, God of grace!

Happy birds, that sing and fly
Round Thy altars, O Most High!
Happier souls that find a rest
In a Heavenly Father's breast!
Like the wandering dove that found
No repose on earth around,
They can to their ark repair,
And enjoy it ever there.

Happy souls! their praises flow
Even in this vale of woe:

Waters in the desert rise,

Manna feeds them from the skies:

On they go from strength to strength,
Till they reach Thy throne at length,
At Thy feet adoring fall,

Who hast led them safe through all.

Lord, be mine this praise to win
Guide me through a world of sin :
Keep me by Thy saving grace;
Give me at Thy side a place;
Sun and Shield alike Thou art;
Guide and guard my erring heart!
Grace and glory flow from Thee:

Shower, O shower them, Lord, on me!

HENRY F. LYTE.

The Heart's Song.

'N the silent midnight watches,

IN

List-thy bosom-door!

How it knocketh, knocketh, knocketh,
Knocketh evermore !

Say not 't is thy pulse's beating;

'Tis thy heart of sin

'Tis thy Saviour knocks, and crieth: Rise, and let me in!

Death comes down with reckless footstep
To the hall and hut,

Think you Death will stand a-knocking
Where the door is shut?

CHRIST'S CALL TO THE SOUL.

Jesus waiteth, waiteth, waiteth,

But thy door is fast!

Grieved, away the Saviour goeth:
Death breaks in at last.

Then 't is thine to stand entreating
Christ to let thee in:

At the gate of heaven beating,
Wailing for thy sin.

Nay, alas! thou foolish virgin,
Hast thou then forgot?

Jesus waited long to know thee,—
But he knows thee not!

ARTHUR C. COXE.

377

Christ's Call to the Soul.

AIR soul, created in the primal hour,

FAIR

Once pure and grand,

And for whose sake I left my throne and power

At God's right hand,

By this sad heart pierced through because I love thee, Let love and mercy to contrition move thee!

Cast off the sins thy holy beauty veiling,
Spirit divine!

Vain against thee the host of hell assailing;
My strength is thine!

Drink from my side the cup of life immortal,

And love will lead thee back to heaven's portal!