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126

THE LOVE OF CHRIST.

I bore thee on My shoulders and rejoiced :

Men only marked upon My shoulders borne The branding cross; and shouted hungry-voiced,

Or wagged their heads in scorn.

Thee did nails grave upon My hands, thy name
Did thorns for frontlets stamp between Mine

eyes :
I, Holy One, put on thy guilt and shame;

I, God, Priest, Sacrifice.

A thief upon My right hand and My left;

Six hours alone, athirst, in misery :
At length in death one smote My heart, and cleft

A hiding-place for thee.

Nailed to the racking cross, than bed of down

More dear, whereon to stretch Myself and sleep : So did I win a kingdom, -share My crown ;

A harvest, —come and reap.

Miss ROSSETTI.

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HOU art the living Vine, the branches we;

Oh, make Thou me
One of those branches ! for I ever pine

So to be Thine
As is the branch unto the living vine.

I long to lose my life in Thine,—to say

On every day, “I live;" yet straight thereafter quickly add,

“Not I, the sad, But Jesus lives in me, and makes me glad.”

I envy Paul what time he softly said

Of the once Dead,

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I AM THE VINE,

"“ We bear about His dying marks : His life

Throughout earth's strife Is manifested in us, full and rife.”

Oh, thus to have Thy life in mine out-shown,

Thy very own,
That men may only say of me, - This is

His strength; and this
His wisdom; and this joy again His bliss;

“ This sympathy is His ; He ever lives,

And ever gives,
Day after day, the hidden life which we

Outwardly see,
From His own boundless, glorious treasury.

• This comfort from His fount of comfort flows,

'Tis He bestows
This peace, so very calm and shadowless ;

His righteousness
Enfoldeth as a snow-white, shining dress.”

O Saviour, make me one with Thee ! I bear

In mind Thy prayer,

YE ARE THE BRANCHES."

129

And bring it to Thee thus : In that dark night

Of sorrow's might,
Didst Thou not ask me for this deep delight?

Grant, therefore, this blest oneness ; let me feel,

As now I kneel,
I have no life whereof to say, 'tis mine,

But only Thine,
I but the branch, and Thou the living Vine !

MARY LESLIE.

K

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ARP and psaltery awake

Joyously ;
Cymbal loud the silence break,-

Hyépon!

Glorious angel tidings run

Speedily : With the early rising sun

Ήγέρθη!

Nought the seal, the watchers nought,

Gloriously;
Far exceeding mortal thought,

'Hyépon!

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