« PreviousContinue »
The Pool of Bethesda.
The aged sufferer waited long,
Around Bethesda's healing wave,
It is the one True Light,
Lake of Gennesaret,
Clear as a crystal mirror in the beam,
Cure of the Blind Man.
When the great Master spoke,
The Good Shepherd.
As the good shepherd leads his sheep,
Call of Peter.
The wind was hushed on Galilee,
Sermon on the Mount.
'T is but the day-star's earliest glance,
When thou art in thy chamber, and thy knee,
He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend, - 56
Oh, deem not they are blest alone,
My soul were dark,
With flowers of promise fill the world, within, 58
O thou whose lips can well repeat,
Oh God! my sins are manifold, against my life they cry, 61
Ye too, the free and fearless Birds of air,
Flowers ! when the Saviour's calm benignant eye, 63
Lo, the lilies of the field,
Imperial beauty! fair, unrivalled one !
Build’st thou on Wealth ?-its wings are ever spread, 65
The Poverty of Jesus.
On the dark wave of Galilee,
Widow of Nain.
O mingle with the widow's tears,
Wake not, O mother, sounds of lamentation,
Who says the widow's heart must break,
He that was dead rose up and spoke – He spoke, 72
Stilling the Tempest.
Fear was within the tossing bark,
They have watched her last and quivering breath,
The Birds of the Air.
Tribes of the air !' whose favor'd race,
The Woman anointing the feet of Jesus.
Thou that with pallid cheek,
The Good Samaritan.
Who bleeds in the desert, faint, naked and torn,
Thy neighbor ? It is he whom thou,
Mary at the feet of Jesus.
Oh ! blest beyond all daughters of the earth,
The Prodigal Son.
Wanderer amid the snares,
My father's house once more,
Resurrection of Lazarus.
One grief, one faith, O sisters of the dead,
« See how he loved !” exclaimed the Jews,
Who is my Mother.
Who is my mother ? or my brethren,
Christ Praying on the Mountain.
Á child ’midst ancient mountains I have stood,
« He was there alone" when even,
Christ walking on the water.
When Power Divine, in mortal form,
The Love of God.
O draw me, Father, after thee,
Truth and Error.
Swift the tempest strips the wood,
Methinks it is good to be here,
To prayer, to prayer; for the morning breaks,
Jesus Blessing Little Children.
If ever in the human heart,
Suffer that little children come to me,
Locked in the bosomn of the earth,
Happy were they, the mothers, in wbose sight,
Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard.
The God of Glory walks his round,
Life and Death.
O fear not thou to die !
The Rich Man.
Thou bast a fair domain,
Mercy, O thou son of David,"
Mary anointing Jesus.
She loved her Saviour, and to him,
'Thou hast thy record in the monarch's hall,
Entry into Jerusalem.
ride on in majesty,
Prophecy of the Destruction of Jerusalem.
Life is a sea - how fair its face,
The Coming of the Son of Man.
A poor wayfaring man of grief,
Prepare the Sas
Jesus washing the Disciples' Feet.
There is a secret in the ways of God,
The Lord's Supper.
Conversation at the Supper.
Thou art the Way- and he who sighs,
This world is like a wilderness,
If Love, the noblest, purest, best,
“ Peace” was the song the Angels sang,
Where shall I find, in all this fleeting earth,
Garden of Gethsemane.
'Tis night;- a lovely night :- and lo,
O'er Kedron's stream, and Salem's height,
The moon was shining yet. The Orient's brow, 135
Fled! and from whom? The Man of woe,
Condemnation of Jesus.
Behold the man! how glorious he,
We mourn for those who toil,
By the dark stillness brooding in the sky,
City of God! Jerusalem,
On Judah’s hills a weight of darkness hung,
Like those pale stars of tempest hours, whose gleam, 147
In the Cross of Christ I glory,
List your glad voices in triumph on high,
But wherefore Peter ? He whose pride,
Weeper! to thee how bright a morn was given, 151
After the Resurrection.
'T is gone, that bright and orbed blaze,
It happen'd on a solemn eventide,
Hath not thy heart within thee burned,
“ 'The Lord is risen indeed,”
The evening of that day, which saw the Lord, 156
“ Lord, and what shall this man do,"
Hail to the Lord's anointed,"