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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.

T

BRANCHES."

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.”

And bring it to Thee thus: In that dark night Of sorrow's might,

Didst Thou not ask me for this deep delight?

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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!

K

MARY LESLIE.

H

"HE IS RISEN."

ARP and psaltery awake

Joyously;

Cymbal loud the silence break,— 'Hyépon!

Glorious angel tidings run

Speedily:

With the early rising sun

'Hyépon!

Nought the seal, the watchers nought, Gloriously;

Far exceeding mortal thought,

Ηγέρθη !