The Stranger and his Friend.

(MONTGOMERY.)

A POOR wayfaring man of grief

Hath often crossed me on my way, Who sued so humbly for relief,

That I could never answer "Nay."

I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came;
Yet there was something in his eye,
That won my love, I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He entered; not a word he spake,-
Just perishing for want of bread:

I gave him all; he bless'd it, brake,
And ate, but gave me part again;
Mine was an angel's portion then,
For while I sped with eager haste,
That crust was manna to my taste.

I spied him where a fountain burst

Clear from a rock; his strength was gone; The heedless water mocked his thirst, He heard it, saw it hurrying on:

I ran to raise the sufferer up:

Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,

Dipt, and returned it running o'er;

I drank, and never thirsted more.

'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew

A winter hurricane aloof:

I heard his voice abroad, and flew

To bid him welcome to my roof:

I warm'd, I cloth'd, I cheered my guest.
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seemed

In Eden's garden while I dreamed.

Stript, wounded, beaten, nigh to death,

I found him by the highway side;
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment; he was healed;
I had myself a wound concealed;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In prison I saw him next, condemned

To meet a traitor's doom at morn;

The tide of lying tongues I stemm'd,

And honoured him 'midst shame and scorn.

My friendship's utmost zeal to try,

He asked, if I for him would die :

The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill,

But the free spirit cried "I will.”

Then in a moment to my view

The stranger started from disguise;

The tokens in his hands I knew,

My Saviour stood before mine eyes.
He spake and my poor name he named;
"Of me thou hast not been ashamed,
These deeds shall thy memorial be,
Fear not, thou didst them unto me."

X.

Return Home.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I SPAKE AS A CHILD, I UNDERSTOOD AS A CHILD,

I THOUGHT AS A CHILD.

X.

Return Home.

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I SPAKE AS A CHILD, I UNDERSTOOD AS A CHILD, I THOUGHT AS A CHILD.

PAUL was at Ephesus, writing to the Corinthians; and, seeking for a familiar analogy by which to illustrate the Christian's present state as compared with that to come, he found it among the playthings of the little Saul of Tarsus. Some gush of early joy rushed up through the stern realities of advanced life, and flowed on the parchment in this classic sentence, "When I was a child, I spake as a child."

Paul's first lesson-book was the same as ours. lullaby would be in some such strains as these :

"I joy'd when to the house of God,

Go up, they said to me,

Jerusalem, within thy gates

A song of Israel

Our feet shall standing be."

His

sung at a Gentile hearth by a Jewish mother. One would like to know what were the childish things which young Saul put away, when he