Of His eventful life, till, lost in thought,
I almost bow the knee and lift my voice,
Assured that 'tis no counterfeit I see.

I can forgive the worshipper who bows
Before this image, for I feel the power

It has to teach the heart.

For ever, as I

It teacheth me:

gaze, I see the LORD

In some great scene He mingled in on earth,

And, even now, the ages roll away,

And I am taken back amid the crowd

That hung upon his path in Holy Land.

The vision deepens

let me write it here:

'Twas evening in Judea.

Through the day

The Saviour taught the people, and the crowd

Still lingered, for the magic of His words
Held every ear, and gently won their hearts.
Old men all their infirmities forgot,

And swelled the number of His anxious train:

Women were there, for He, whose voice they heard,

Was unto them invested with a garb

That won their gentle hearts with magic power.

All classes had their representatives:

The artisan forgot his implements —

SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME. 3

The hewers and the drawers left their toil

The poor had holiday when He appeared.

Thus through the day, untired, the Saviour toiled, And taught the people till the evening closed, And nature bade them seek their homes again. Yet did not all depart: a little group Still lingered, and, with timid steps, approached The Teacher, ere He passed beyond their town. And they were mothers: each had clasped in hers The little hands of children, or their breasts Sustained the infants, yet unused to walk.

What sought they of the Saviour, that they bore
Their offspring in their weary arms so late,
And followed Him so far? Thus were they asked,
And by the Lord's disciples bade return,

Who yet rebuked them that they still pursued.
Not thus the Saviour: with a smile of love

He gently turned, rebuking them instead,
And bade the suppliants hasten to his side.

And then He stood, while, round His sacred feet,
The little cherubs clustered on their knees,
And lifted up His hands and blessed them all.
I see Him now: His lovely face is clothed

With a peculiar holiness and love,
From the eternal depth of those pure eyes,
Beams with unusual radiance.

He prays,

And to His Father doth commend the lambs
That are the emblems of His flock in heaven.
Then gently stooping, to His sacred breast
He folds them, one by one: on each pure brow
His holy lips are pressed; and then He says,

66

My Father's kingdom is of such as these."

How blest those mothers as from His embrace They took again their children to their own! How blest those children, into whose young hearts The Spirit of their Holy Saviour stole !

And so the Lord passed on, ere long to be

The King in mockery as I see Him now.

THE TEMPEST STILLED.

BY THE REV. I. GILBORNE LYONS, LL. D.

THE strong winds burst on Judah's sea,
Far peal'd the raging billow,
The fires of heaven flash'd wrathfully,
When Jesus press'd his pillow;
The light frail bark was fiercely toss'd,
From surge to dark surge leaping,
For sails were torn and oars were lost,
Yet Jesus still lay sleeping.

When o'er that bark the loud waves roar'd,
And blasts went howling round her,
Those Hebrews rous'd their wearied Lord,-
"Lord! help us, or we founder!"
He said, "Ye waters, peace, be still!"
The chaf'd waves sank reposing,

As wild herds rest on field and hill,
When clear calm days are closing.

And turning to the startled men
Who watch'd that surge subsiding,
He spake in mournful accents then
These words of righteous chiding,—
"O ye, who thus fear wreck and death,
As if by Heaven forsaken,

How is it that ye have no faith,

Or faith so quickly shaken?"

Then, then, those doubters saw with dread
The wondrous scene before them;

Their limbs wax'd faint, their boldness fled,
Strange awe stole creeping o'er them:-
"This, this, they said, is Judah's Lord,
For powers divine array Him:
Behold! He does but speak the word,

And winds and waves obey Him!"