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Without a place to lay his head,
Triumphing o'er infirmity,
And foiling the arch enemy,
Although through sore temptations led,
That he might open still for thee
A fair and heavenly morrow.

Remember him who bore for thee
The thorny crown in pain,
The scourge, the buffet, and the blow,
Who sweated by Gethsemane
Big drops of blood in agony,
And lingered on the cross, that thou
O'er death might have the victory,
And live in him again.

Remember him who died for thee,
And rose triumphant o'er the grave,
Who broke the prison bars of hell,
Who captive led captivity,
And burst the bonds of slavery,
Dissolving sin's accursed spell,
And Satan's cruel tyranny,
Thy forfeit soul to save.

W. MARTIN.

THE SAVIOUR'S LOVE.

OH! never, never canst thou know
What then for thee the Saviour bore,

The pangs of that mysterious woe
That wrung his frame at every pore,
The weight that press'd upon his brow,
The fever of his bosom's core !

Yes, man for man perchance may brave
The horrors of the yawning grave,
And friend for friend, or child for sire,
Undaunted and unmoved expire,-
From love-or piety-or pride ;-
But who can die as Jesus died?

A sweet but solitary beam,

An emanation from above,

Glimmers o'er life's uncertain dream-
We hail that beam, and call it love!
But fainter than the pale star's ray
Before the noontide blaze of day,
And lighter than the viewless sand
Beneath the wave that sweeps the strand,
Is all of love that man can know,-
All that in angel-breasts can glow,-
Compared, O Lord of Hosts, with thine,
Eternal-fathomless-divine!

DALE.

THE STAR OF BETHLEHEM.

MATT. ii. 2.

BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid! Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.

Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining; Low lies his bed with the beasts of the stall; Angels adore him, in slumber reclining,Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all!

Say, shall we yield him, in costly devotion,
Odours of Edom, and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean?
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?

Vainly we offer each ample oblation;

Vainly with gold would his favour secure: Richer by far is the heart's adoration;

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid!
Star of the East, the horizon adorning,

Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid.
H. K. WHITE.

THE REDEEMER.

YES, thou wert born of woman! thou didst come,
O Holiest! to this world of sin and gloom,
Not in thy dread omnipotent array;

And not by thunders strew'd was thy tempestuous

road

Nor indignation burnt before thee on thy way.
But thee, a soft and naked child,

Thy mother undefiled,

In the rude manger laid to rest
From off her virgin breast.

The heavens were not commanded to prepare
A gorgeous canopy of golden air:

Nor stoop'd their lamps th' enthroned fires on high. A single silent star came wandering from afar, (iliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky;

The eastern sages leading on

As at a kingly throne,

To lay their gold and odours sweet
Before thy infant feet.

The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear Bright harmony from every starry sphere; Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song From all the cherub choirs, and seraphs' burning

lyres

Pour'd through the host of heaven the charmed clouds along.

One angel troop the strain began,
Of all the race of man

By simple shepherds heard alone,
That soft Hosanna's tone.

And when thou didst depart, no car of flame To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came; Nor visible angels mourn'd with drooping plumes: Nor didst thou mount on high from fatal Calvary With all thine own redeem'd outbursting from their tombs.

For thou didst bear away from earth

But one of human birth,

The dying felon by thy side, to be

In Paradise with thee.

Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake; A little while the conscious earth did shake

At that foul deed by her fierce children done; A few dim hours of day the world in darkness lay; Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless

sun.

While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
Consenting to thy doom:

Ere yet the white-robed angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand With devastation in thy red right hand,

Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew; But thou didst haste to meet thy mother's coming

feet,

And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few. Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise

Into thy native skies,

Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.

MILMAN.

THE SACRIFICE.

BOUND upon th' accursed tree,
Faint and bleeding, who is He?
By the eyes so pale and dim,
Streaming blood, and writhing limb,
By the flesh with scourges torn,
By the crown of twisted thorn,
By the side so deeply pierced,
By the baffled burning thirst,
By the drooping death-dew'd brow,
Son of Man! 'tis Thou! 'tis Thou!

Bound upon th' accursed tree,
Dread and awful, who is He?
By the sun at noon-day pale,
Shivering rocks, and rending veil,

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