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

In prison I saw Him next, condemned
To meet a traitor's doom at morn;

The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,

And honoured 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 run 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 mine eyes:
He spake; 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."

ON THE LOSS OF FRIENDS.

FRIEND after friend departs;

Who hath not lost a friend?

There is no union here of hearts,
That finds not here an end!

Were this frail world our final rest,

Living, or dying, none were blest.

Beyond the flight of time,—

Beyond the reign of death,—
There surely is some blessed clime,
Where life is not a breath;

Nor life's affections' transient fire,
Whose sparks fly upwards and expire.

There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown,

A long eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone; And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that glorious sphere.

Thus star by star declines,

Till all are passed away;

As morning high and higher shines

To pure and perfect day:

Nor sink those stars in empty night,

But hide themselves in heaven's own light.

LIFE, DEATH, AND JUDGMENT.

FEW, few, and evil are thy days,
Man of a woman born!
Peril and trouble haunt thy ways.
Forth, like a flower at morn,
Thy tender infant springs to light,
Youth blossoms to the breeze,
Age, withering age, is cropt ere night:
Man like a shadow flees.

And dost thou look on such an one?
Will God to judgment call

A worm, for what a worm hath done
Against the Lord of all?

As fail the waters from the deep,

As summer brooks run dry,
Man lieth down in dreamless sleep,
His life is vanity.

Man lieth down, no more to wake,
Till yonder arching sphere
Shall with a roll of thunder break,

And nature disappear.

Oh! hide me till thy wrath be past,
Thou, who canst slay or save!
Hide me where hope may anchor fast,

In my Redeemer's grave!

CHRIST THE PURIFIER.

"He shall sit as a refiner, and purifier of silver."-Mal. iii. 3.

He that from dross would win the precious ore,

Bends o'er the crucible an earnest eye,

The subtle searching process to explore,

Lest the one brilliant moment should pass by,

When in the molten silver's virgin mass
He meets his pictured face as in a glass.

Thus in God's furnace are his people tried;

Thrice happy they who to the end endure:
But who the fiery trial may abide?

Who from the crucible come forth so pure?
That He whose eyes of flame look through the whole,
May see his image perfect in the soul?

Nor with an evanescent glimpse alone,

As in that mirror the refiner's face;

But, stampt with heaven's broad signet, there be shown
Immanuel's features full of truth and grace.

And round that seal of love this motto be,

"Not for a moment, but-eternity!"

VOL. II.

12

WHAT IS PRAYER?

PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire,
Uttered or unexpressed ;

The motion of a hidden fire,

That trembles at the breast.

Prayer is the burden of a sigh,
The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

Prayer is the simplest form of speech That infant lips can try;

Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach The Majesty on high.

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, The Christian's native air;

His watchword at the gates of death-
He enters heaven by prayer.

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice,
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And cry, "Behold, he prays!"

The saints in prayer appear as one,
In word, and deed, and mind;
While with the Father and the Son,
Sweet fellowship they find.

Nor prayer is made on earth alone:
The Holy Spirit pleads;
And Jesus on the eternal throne
For mourners intercedes.

O Thou! by whom we come to God,
The life, the truth, the way!
The path of prayer thyself hast trod:
Lord, teach us how to pray.

THE DAY AFTER JUDGMENT.

THE days and years of time are fled,

Sun, moon, and stars have shone their last; The earth and sea gave up their dead,

Then vanished at th' archangel's blast. All secret things have been revealed, Judgment is passed, the sentence sealed; And man to all eternity

What he is now henceforth must be.

From Adam to his youngest heir,

Not one escaped that muster-roll;

Each, as if he alone were there,

Stood up, and won or lost his soul.

These from the Judge's presence go,
Down into everlasting woe;

Vengeance hath barred the gates of hell,—

The scenes within no tongue can tell.

But, lo! far off the righteous pass

To glory, from the King's right hand;

In silence on the sea of glass

Heaven's numbers without number stand,
While He who bore the cross lays down
His priestly robe and victor crown;
The mediatorial reign complete,
All things are put beneath his feet.

Then every eye in Him shall see

(While thrones and powers before Him fall,) The fulness of the Deity,

Where God Himself is all in all.

Oh! how eternity shall ring

With the first note the ransomed sing;
While in that strain all voices blend,
Which once begun shall never end.