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“ PETER SEETH THE DISCIPLE WHOM JESUS LOVED."

* LORD, and what shall this man do?'

Ask’st thou, Christian, for thy friend ?
If his love for Christ be true,

Christ hath told thee of his end :
This is he whom God approves,
This is he whom Jesus loves.

Ask not of him more than this,

Leave it in his Saviour's breast,
Whether, early called to bliss,

He in youth shall find his rest,
Or armed in his station wait,
Till his Lord be at the gate :

Whether in his lonely course

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay,
Or with love's supporting force

Cheat the toil and cheer the way :
Leave it all in His high hand,
Who doth hearts as streams command.

Gales from heaven, if so He will,

Sweeter melodies can wake In the lonely mountain rill,

Than the meeting waters make : Who hath the Father and the Son, May be left, but not alone.

Sick or healthful, slave or free,

Wealthy, or despised and poor What is that to him or thee,

So his love to Christ endure ? When the shore is won at last, Who will count the billows past ?

Only, since our souls will shrink

At the touch of natural grief, When our earthly loved ones sink,

Lend us, Lord, thy sure relief; Patient hearts, their pain to see, And thy grace, to follow Thee.

" MEEK AND LOWLY IN HEART.

For 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 strewed 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 stooped their lamps thienthroned fires on high :
A single silent star came wandering from afar,
Gliding unchecked 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 hushed 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
Poured thro' 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 mourned with drooping plumes :
Nor didst thou mount on high from fatal Calvary
With all thine own redeemed 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 basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun.

While Thou didst sleep beneath the toml),

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.

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