To have tenderly bound up her scattered hair,
And have dried her tearful eyes!

Hufh! there are broken hearts to soothe,
And penitent tears to dry,

While Magdalen prays for you and them,
From her home in the starry sky.

O to have followed the mournful way
Of those faithful few forlorn!

And, grace beyond even an angel's hope,
The Cross for our Lord have borne !
To have shared in His tender mother's grief,
To have wept at Mary's fide,

To have lived as a child in her home, and then
In her loving care have died !

Hush! and with reverent sorrow still
Mary's great anguish share;

And learn, for the sake of her Son divine,
Thy cross, like His, to bear.

The sorrows that weigh on thy soul unite
With those which thy Lord has borne,
And Mary will comfort thy dying hour,
Nor leave thy soul forlorn.

O to have seen what we now adore,
And, though veiled to faithless fight,
To have known, in the form that Jesus wore,
The Lord of Life and Light!

Hufh! for He dwells among us ftill,

And a grace can yet be thine,

Which the scoffer and doubter can never know,

The Presence of the Divine.

Jesus is with His children yet,

For His word can never deceive; Go where His lowly altars rise,

And worship, and believe.

Miss A. A. Procter. 1859.

THE STRANGER.

A

POOR wayfaring Man of grief

Hath often croffed me on my way,

Who sued so humbly for relief,
That I could never answer, Nay.
I had not power to afk 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, -

Juft perifhing for want of bread;

I

gave him all; he bleffed it, brake,

And ate, but gave me part again:

-

Mine was an angel's portion then;
For while I fed with eager hafte,
That cruft was manna to my taste.

I spied him, where a fountain burst
Clear from the rock; his ftrength 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 ftream he drained my cup,
Dipt, and returned it running o'er;

I drank, and never thirfted 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 reft;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,
I found him by the highway-fide;
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 death at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I ftemmed,

And honored him 'midft fhame 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 haft not been ashamed;

These deeds fhall thy memorial be;
Fear not, thou didst them unto me.'

James Montgomery. 1826.

QUIET.

THE INNER CALM

ALM me, my God, and keep me calm,

CA

While these hot breezes blow;

Be like the night-dew's cooling balm
Upon earth's fevered brow.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm,

Soft refting on thy breast;

Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm,

And bid my spirit reft.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm;

Let thine outstretchéd wing

Be like the fhade of Elim's palm

Befide her desert spring.

Yes, keep me calm, though loud and rude

The sounds my ear that greet,

Calm in the closet's solitude,

Calm in the bustling ftreet;