HEALING AT SUNSET.
"At even when the sun did set, they brought unto him
all that were diseased."-Mark i. 32.
JUDEA'S Summer sun went down,
And lo! from vale and plain,
Around the heavenly Healer thronged
A sick and sorrowing train.
The pallid brow, the feverish cheek,
The cripple beset with care,
And he whose soul Satan had driven
To foaming rage, were there.
He raised his hand, the lame man leaped,
The blind forgot his woe,
And with a sudden rapture gazed
On nature's glorious show.
Up from his bed of misery rose
The paralytic pale,
While the loathed leper dared once more
His fellow man to hail.
The lunatic's unruffled brow
With smiles of love o'erspread,
Rejoiced the kindred hearts that long
Had trembled at his tread.
Yes all that sad imploring train
He healed ere evening fell;
And speechless joy was born that night
In many a lonely cell.
Ere evening fell! Oh ye who find
The chills of age descend,
And with the lustre of your locks
Grey hairs are seen to blend.
Haste ere the darkening shades of night
Have every hope bereaved,
Nor leave the safety of the soul
Unsought for, unachieved.
A. MOTHER'S PRAYER.
My son the wanderings of thy way
It is not mine to trace,
Through sprightly youth's exulting day,
Or manhood's bolder race:
What discipline thy heart may need,
What clouds may veil thy sun,
The eye of God alone can read-
And let his will be done.
Yet might a mother's prayer of love
Thy future years control;
Those boasted gifts that often prove
The ruin of the soul,
Beauty and fortune, wit and fame,
For thee it would not crave,
But tearful urge a fervent claim
To joys beyond the grave.
O! be thy wealth an upright heart,
Thy strength the sufferers' stay,
Thine early choice that better part
Which cannot fade away;
Thy zeal for Christ a quenchless fire,
Thy friends the men of peace,
Thy heritage an angel's lyre
When earthly changes cease.
"The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, saith the Lord of Hosts."-Haggai ii. 8.
WHOSE is the gold that glitters in the mine? And whose the silver? Are they not the Lord's ? And lo! the cattle on a thousand hills,
And the broad earth with all her gushing springs, Are they not his who made them ?
Slight tenantry therein, and call your lands
By your own names, and lock your gather'd gold
From him who in his bleeding Saviour's name
Doth ask a part, whose shall those riches be
When like the grass blade from the autumn frost
You fall away.
Oh man whose daily labour is for heirs
Thou knowest not who-thou in thy mouldering bed,
Unseen, and unremembered then, shalt sleep; Nor will they thank thee that thou didst bereave Thy soul of good for them.
The famish'd food, the prisoner liberty,
Light to the darken'd mind, to the lost soul
A place in heaven. Take thou the privilege
With solemn gratitude. Speck as thou art
Upon earth's surface, gloriously exult
To be co-worker with the King of Kings.
THE DEAF, DUMB, AND BLIND GIRL.
No page of friendship, or of love,
Must breathe soft language o'er thy heart;
Nor that blest book, which guides above,
Its message to thy soul impart.
But Thou who didst on Calvary die,
Flows not thy mercy great and free ?
Thou who didst rend of death the tie,
Is any grief too strong for thee?
And Thou, oh Spirit pure! whose rest
Is with the lowly contrite train,
Lighten the darkness of her breast,
And cleanse of every ill the stain;
That she, whose pilgrimage below
Was night which never hoped a morn,
That never-ending day may know
Which of eternity is born.
The change's vastness who can tell ?
When from the ear its seal shall part,
Where countless lyres seraphic swell,
And holy transport thrills the heart:
When the chain'd tongue, forbid to pour
The broken melodies of time,
Shall to the highest numbers soar
Of everlasting praise sublime:
When those dark eyes, which ne'er might trace
The features of their kindred clay,
Shall see, of Deity, the face,
And glow with rapture's deathless ray.
BREAD IN THE WILDERNESS.
A VOICE amid the desert
Who in rough garments clad, and locust fed-
Cried to the sinful multitude, and claim'd
Fruits of repentance with the lifted scourge
Of terror and reproof. A milder guide,
With gentler tones, doth teach the listening
throng,
Moved with a kind compassion as he saw
The shepherdless and poor.
Noon hasted, and the lengthening shadows brought
The unexpected eve. They lingered still,
Eyes fix'd, and lips apart: the very breath
Constrain'd, lest some escaping sigh might break
The tide of knowledge, sweeping o'er their souls
Like a strange, raptured dream. They heeded not
The spent sun closing in the distant west
His burning journey. What was time to them,
Who heard, entranced, the eternal Word of Life P
But the weak flesh grew weary,-hunger came,
Sharpening each feature, and to faintness drain'd
Life's vigorous fount. The holy Saviour felt
Compassion for them. His disciples press,
Care-stricken to his side: "Where shall we find
Bread in this desert ?"
Then, with lifted eye,
He bless'd and brake the slender store of food,
And fed the famish'd thousands. Wondering awe,
With renovated strength, inspired their souls,
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