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THE DIVINE PILGRIM.

I, who once made Him grieve;

I, who once bid His gentle spirit mourn ;
Whose hand essay'd to weave

For His meek brow the cruel crown of thorn :

O why should I have peace? Why but for that unchanged, undying love, Which would not, could not cease,

Until it made me heir of joys above.

Yes! but for pardoning grace,

I feel I never should in glory see
The brightness of that face.

That once was pale and agonized for me!

Let the birds seek their nest,

Foxes their holes, and man his peaceful bed;
Come, Saviour, in my breast
Deign to repose Thine oft rejected head.

Come, give me rest, and take

The only rest on earth thou lovest,-within
A heart, that for thy sake

Lies bleeding, broken, penitent for sin.

87

The New Jerusalem.

We are on our journey home, Where Christ, our Lord, is gone; We will meet around his throne When he makes his people one In the New Jerusalem!

We see our distant home;

Though clouds rise oft between ; Faith views the radiant dome, And a lustre flashes keen

From the New Jerusalem!

O! glory shining far

From the never-setting sun! O trembling morning star! Our journey's almost done To the New Jerusalem!

Our hearts are breaking now
Those mansions fair to see,

O Lord, the heavens bow,
And raise us up to thee,

To the New Jerusalem!

HIL NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND

TILTEN FOUNDATIONS

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AS IT NOW APPEARS FROM THE BASE OF MOUNT EBAL.

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BLEST land of Judea! thrice hallowed of song, Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like

throng;

In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy sea. On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee!

With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore Where the pilgrim and prophet have linger'd before;

With the glide of a spirit I traverse the sod, Made bright by the steps of the angels of God.

Blue hills of the sea! in my spirit I hear
Thy waters, Gennesaret, chime on my ear;
Where the Lowly and Just with the people sat
down,

And thy spray on the dust of His sandals was thrown.

Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green,
And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene;
And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see
The gleam of thy waters, O dark Galilee!

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