THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.

Ye have done it unto me.- Matthew 25: 40.

A POOR wayfaring man of grief,
Hath often crossed me in my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief,

That I could never answer, nay:
I had not power to ask 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.
Just perishing for want of bread,

I gave him all; he blessed and brake,
And ate — but gave me part again.
Mine was an angel's portion then;
For, while I fed with eager haste,
That crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him where a fountain burst

Clear from the rock; his strength 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 stream he drained my cup,

Dipt and returned it running o'er,

I drank, and never thirsted 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 rest;
Then made the earth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side;
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirits, 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.

I saw him next in prison, condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;
The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,
And honored him, 'midst shame 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 my eyes!

He spoke, and my poor name he named; 'Of me thou hast not been ashamed, These deeds shall thy memorial be, Fear not

thou didst them unto me.'

'WHY WEEPEST THOU?'

John 20: 13.

BROKEN-HEARTED, weep no more!
Hear what comfort he hath spoken,
Smoking flax who ne'er hath quenched,
Bruised reed who ne'er hath broken:·
'Ye who wander here below,

Heavy laden as you go;

Come, with grief, with sin oppressed,
Come to me and be at rest!'

Lamb of Jesus' blood-bought flock, Brought again from sin and straying, Hear the Shepherd's gentle voice'Tis a true and faithful saying: :'Greater love how can there be Than to yield up life for thee? Bought with pain, and tear, and sigh, Turn and live! - why will ye die!'

Broken-hearted, weep no more!
Far from consolation flying;

He who calls hath felt thy wound,
Seen thy weeping, heard thy sighing:
'Bring thy broken heart to me;
Welcome offering it shall be;
Streaming tears and bursting sighs,
Mine accepted sacrifice.'

JOY IN GOD.

I will be glad in the Lord. - Psalm 104: 34.

WHEN morning's first and hallowed ray
Breaks, with its trembling light,
To chase the pearly dews away,
Bright tear-drops of the night,-

My heart, O Lord, forgets to rove,
But rises, gladly free,

On wings of everlasting love,

And finds its home in thee.

When evening's silent shades descend,

And nature sinks to rest,

Still,

to my Father and my friend

My wishes are addressed.

Though tears may dim my hours of joy,
And bid my pleasures flee,

Thou reign'st where grief cannot annoy;
I will be glad in thee.

And e'en when midnight's solemn gloom,
Above, around is spread,

Sweet dreams of everlasting bloom
Are hovering o'er my head.

I dream of that fair land, O Lord,
Where all thy saints shall be;

I wake to lean upon thy word,
And still delight in thee.

THE INQUIRY.

There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the weary be at rest.
Job 3: 17.

TELL me, ye wingéd winds,
That round my pathway roar,
Do ye not know some spot,
Where mortals weep no more?
Some lone and pleasant dell,
Some valley in the west,

Where, free from toil and pain,
The weary soul may rest?

The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,

And sighed for pity, as it answered, 'No.'