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He leads the way to that cold white couch,
And the fresh blood comes with roseate hue,
THE BIRDS OF THE AIR.
"Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?"- Luke xii. 6.
TRIBES of the air! whose favor'd race
Nor differ less your forms, your flight,
And the wild haunts ye love;
Far other scenes, remote, sublime,
Others there are, that make their home
Around th' o'erhanging rock; Fearless they skim the angry wave, Or, sheltered in their sea-beat cave, The tempest's fury mock.
Where Afric's burning realm expands,
The condor, where the Andes tower, Spreads his broad wing of pride and power, And many a storm defies;
Bright in the orient realms of morn,
The Bird of Paradise.
Some, amidst India's groves of palın,
Weave soft their pendent nest;
In rainbow colors drest.
Others no varied song may pour,
Shall He not then thy guardian be?
Oh! safely mayst thou rest!
THE WOMAN ANOINTING THE FEET OF JESUS.
"And behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him, weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears; and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment." -Luke vii. 37, 38.
THOU that with pallid cheek,
And faded locks that humbly swept the ground,
Didst bow thee to the earth, oh, lost and found!
When thou wouldst bathe his feet,
And many a shower of woman's burning tear,
Brought low the dust to wear
From the crowded beauty of its festal year.
Did he reject thee then,
While the sharp scorn of men
On thy once bright and stately head was cast? No, from the Saviour's mien,
A solemn light serene,
Bore to thy soul the peace of God at last.
For thee, their smiles no more
Voices, once kind, had learn'd the stranger's tone,
He, from all guilt the stainless, He alone!
But which, oh, erring child!
Which of thine offerings won those words of
That o'er the bruised reed,
In music pass'd, "Thy sins are all forgiven?"
Was it that perfume fraught
With balm and incense, brought
From the sweet woods of Araby the blest?
Of tears, which not in vain
To Him who scorn'd not tears, thy woes confess'd?
No, not by these restored
Unto thy Father's board,
'Thy peace, that kindled joy in Heaven,was made; But costlier in his eyes,
By that blest sacrifice,
Thy heart, thy full deep heart, before Him laid.