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LITANY.

337

By Thy helpless infant years;
By Thy life of want and tears;
By Thy days of sore distress,
In the savage wilderness;
By the dread, mysterious hour
Of the insulting tempter's power-
Turn, O turn, a favoring eye-
Hear our solemn Litany!

By the sacred griefs that wept
O'er the grave where Lazarus slept;
By the boding tears that flowed
Over Salem's loved abode;
By the anguished sigh that told
Treachery lurked within the fold-
From Thy seat above the sky
Hear our solemn Litany!

By Thine hour of dire despair;
By Thine agony of prayer;
By the cross, the wail, the thorn,
Piercing spear, and torturing scorn;
By the gloom that yeiled the skies
O'er the dreadful sacrifice
Listen to our humble cry:
Hear our solemn Litany!

By Thy deep expiring groan;
By the sad sepulchral stone;
By the vault whose dark abode
Held in vain the rising God !
O! from earth to heaven restored,
Mighty, reascended Lord-
Listen, listen to the cry
Of our solemn Litany!

SIR ROBERT GRANT.

The Stranger. A POOR wayfaring man of grief

Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief

That I could never answer “ Nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love, -I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,

He entered Not a word he spake.
Just perishing for want of bread,
I

gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate ;-but gave me part again.
Mine was an angel's portion then;
For while I fed with eager haste,
That crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him where a fountain burst

Clear from the rock; his strength was gone ; The heedless water mocked his thirst;

He heard it, saw it hurrying on.
I ran to raise the sufferer up;
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipped, and returned it running o'er;
I drank and never thirsted more.

'T was night; the floods were out,-it blew

A winter hurricane aloof;
I heard his voice abroad, and flew

To bid him welcome to my roof;
I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest-
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

THE STRANGER.

339

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.

JAMES MONTGOMERY

The Seraph throwing off his Disguise.
WILD sparkling rage inflamed 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.
Συν Χριότω-πολλώ μάλλον κρείσσων. .
HOPE of those that have none other,
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.341

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.

How amiable are Thy Tabernacles.

PLEASANT are Thy courts above

In the land of light and love :
Pleasant are thy courts below
. In this land of sin and woe.
O, 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.

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