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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 ftarry fky.

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 fhared 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!

Hufh! and with reverent sorrow ftill

Mary's great anguifh fhare;
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 worfhip, and believe.

Miss A. A. Proper. 1859.


APOOR wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often crofled 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 blefled 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 tafte.

I spied him, where a fountain burft

Clear from the rock; his ftrength was gone;

The heedless water mocked his thirft,
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 gueft,
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, refrefhment; 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 friendfhip's utmoft zeal to try,

He afked if I for him would die?

The flefh 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 flood before mine eyes!

He spake; and my poor name he named:

"Of me thou haft not been afhamed;

These deeds fhall thy memorial be;

Fear not, thou didft them unto me."

James Montgomery. 1826.

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CALM me, my God, and keep me calm,
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 breaft;
Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm,

And bid my spirit reft.

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm;

Let thine outftretched 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 buftling ftreet;

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