Amazed the poor child looked, to find
The hearth was piled with wood,
And the table, never full before,
Was heaped with dainty food.

Then half to hide from himself the truth,
The Burgomaster said,

While the mother blessed him on her knees,
And Gottlieb shook for dread:

"Nay, give no thanks, my good dame, To such as me for aid,

Be grateful to your little son,

And the Lord to whom he prayed!"

Then turning round to Gottlieb,

"Your written prayer, you see, Came not to whom it was addressed, It only came to me!

"'Twas but a foolish thing you did,

As you must understand;

For though the gifts are yours, you know,
You have them from my hand."

Then Gottlieb answered fearlessly,

Where he humbly stood apart,

"But the Christ-child sent them all the same, He put the thought in your heart!"

RELIGIOUS POEMS.

CHRISTMAS.

THIS happy day, whose risen sun
Shall set not through eternity,
This holy day when Christ, the Lord,
Took on Him our humanity,

For little children everywhere
A joyous season still we make ;
We bring our precious gifts to them,
Even for the dear child Jesus' sake.

The glory from the manger shed,
Wherein the lowly Saviour lay,
Shines as a halo round the head
Of every human child to-day.

And each unconscious infant sleeps
Entrusted to his guardian care;
Hears his dear name in cradle hymns,
And lisps it in its earliest prayer.

Thou blessed Babe of Bethlehem !

Whose life we love, whose name we laud;

Thou Brother, through whose poverty,

We have become the heirs of God;

Thou sorrowful, yet sinless Man -
Tempted in all things like as we,
Treading with tender, human feet,
The sharp, rough way of Calvary ;

We do remember how, by Thee,

The sick were healed, the halting led; How Thou didst take the little ones

And pour thy blessings on their head.

We know for what unworthy men

Thou once didst deign to toil and live; What weak and sinful women Thou Didst love, and pity, and forgive.

And, Lord, if to the sick and poor
We go with generous hearts to-day,
Or in forbidden places seek

For such as wander from the way;

And by our loving words or deeds

Make this a hallowed time to them; Though we ourselves be found unmeet, For sin, to touch thy garment's hem;

Wilt Thou not, for thy wondrous grace, And for thy tender charity,

Accept the good we do to these,

As we had done it unto Thee?

And for the precious little ones,

Here from their native heaven astray

Strong in their very helplessness,

To lead us in the better way;

PRODIGALS.

If we shall make thy natal day

A season of delight to these, A season always crowded full

Of sweet and pleasant memories ;

Wilt Thou not grant us to forget

Awhile our weight of care and pain,
And in their joys, bring back their joy
Of early innocence again?

O holy Child, about whose bed
The virgin mother softly trod;
Dead once, yet living evermore,
O Son of Mary, and of God!

If any act that we can do,

If any thought of ours is right, If any prayer we lift to Thee,

May find acceptance in thy sight,

Hear us, and give to us, to-day,

In answer to our earnest cries,

Some portion of that sacred love,

That drew Thee to us from the skies!

325

PRODIGALS.

AGAIN, in the Book of Books, to-day
I read of that Prodigal, far away
In the centuries agone,

Who took the portion that to him fell,
And went from friends and home to dwell
In a distant land alone.

And when his riotous living was done,
And his course of foolish pleasure run,
And a fearful famine rose,

He fain would have fed with the very swine,
And no man gave him bread nor wine,

For his friends were changed to foes.

And I thought, when at last his state he knew, What a little thing he had to do,

To win again his place :

Only the madness of sin to learn,
To come to himself, repent, and turn,
And seek his Father's face.

Then I thought however vile we are,
Not one of us hath strayed so far

From the things that are good and pure,

But if to gain his home he tried

He would find the portal open wide,
And find his welcome sure.

My fellow-sinners, though you dwell
In haunts where the feet take hold on hell,
Where the downward way is plain ;
Think, who is waiting for you at home,
Repent, and come to yourself, and come
To your Father's house again!

Say, out of the depths of humility,

"I have lost the claim of a child on Thee,

I would serve Thee with the least!

And He will a royal robe prepare,

He will call you son, and call

you heir

And seat you at the feast.