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But bold with misery,

VIII.

He heeded not the taunt of selfish pride,
More eagerly and earnestly he cried,

"Have mercy, Christ, on me!"

IX.

The ever open ear

Heard-and heard not unmoved that quivering voice. "Come hither!" Hundreds now exclaimed-"Rejoice! He calls; be of good cheer!"

X.

How rare-how passing sweet

Sounded those words of hope. He cast away

His garment, lest its folds his course might stay,
And fell at Jesus' feet.

XI.

"What would'st thou?"

Wondrous bright

The beggar's visage glowed. He felt right sure

That voice so God-like, straight would speak his cure.

"Lord, that I may have sight!"

XII.

He never knew suspense.

"Receive thy sight, thou dark one for thy faith!" And lo! convulsively he draws his breath,

Entranced with his new sense.

XIII.

Did Bartimeus seek

Once more his ancient nook of beggary?
Oh no! He felt that he could gaze for aye
On Jesus' face so meek.

XIV.

Love would not let him stay.

His darkened soul was lightened like his eyes, And from that hour the Lord whom he did prize

He followed in the way.

THE INDIAN LOG CHURCH.

Rude forest temple! little canst thou show
Of architect'ral pomp or blazonry ;

But to my heart thy meek simplicity
Speaks deeper toned than prouder forms can do.
Emanuel's pioneer in a wild land,

For ages buried in the gloom of night,
Thou first didst beckon with beseeching hand,
To Gospel liberty, and Gospel light.

Within thy walls, first, in this region, swelled
The choral hymn of praise to Israel's God;
Here first the wandering Indian beheld

The entrance to immortal life's straight road,
And, nothing doubting, heard with glist'ning eye,

That he was heir with Christ, of wealth beyond the sky.

"WHO IS MY NEIGHBOUR?"

Most churlish question, when the husky cry
Of gnawing famine falls upon the ear.
Can there be creed or sect in misery?

Or party in the pain-extorted tear?

"Who is my neighbour?" Cold one wend thy way To Calvary's mount, and gaze upon the face

Of Him who bled to free our common race From death's sharp sting, and sin's polluting sway. The kind Lord died for all. Yes, e'en for those Whose torments wrung his flesh with nameless throes. Blush for thy selfishness, and learn to see

A neighbour in each child of Adam's family.

CHRIST MOURNING OVER JERUSALEM.

I.

Like royal maiden sleeping gracefully,
Jerusalem lay cradled in the sun;

Scarcely was heard the pilgrim zephyr's sigh,
As though heaven's azure field it glided on.
Our earth, save Eden, neʼer disclosed a scene
So freshly fair-so beauteously serene.

II.

On Olive's mount reclined an humble band,

From whom the sons of pride would shrink in scorn; Way-faring ones, whose robes the churlish hand

Of penury had sorely moiled and torn,

Plain might you read in each care-wrinkled face,
That here they had nor home, nor resting place.

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