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HE Cross, if rightly borne, shall be

No burden, but support to thee;"*

So, moved of old time for our sake, The holy monk of Kempen spake.

Thou brave and true one! upon whom
Was laid the cross of martyrdom,
How didst thou, in thy generous youth,
Bear witness to this blessed truth !

Thy cross of suffering and of shame
A staff within thy hands became,
In paths where faith alone could see
The Master's steps supporting thee.

Thomas à Kempis, “ Imitation of Christ."

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Thine was the seed-time; God alone
Beholds the end of what is sown;
Beyond our vision, weak and dim,
The harvest-time is hid with Him.

Yet, unforgotten where it lies,
That seed of generous sacrifice,
Though seeming on the desert cast,
Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last.


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WO sayings of the Holy Scriptures beat
Like pulses' in the Church's brow and breast;

And by them we find rest in our unrest,
And, heart-deep in salt tears, do yet entreat
God's fellowship, as if on heavenly seat.
The first is JESUS WEPT,—whereon is prest
Full many a sobbing face that drops its best
And sweetest waters on the record sweet :-
And one is, where the Christ, denied and scorned,
LOOKED UPON PETER. Oh, to render plain,
By help of having loved a little, and mourned, -
That look of sovran love and sovran pain,
Which He who could not sin, yet suffered, turned
On him who could reject, but not sustain !


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HE Saviour looked on Peter. Ay, no word—

No gesture of reproach! The heavens serene,

Though heavy with armed justice, did not lean Their thunders that way. The forsaken Lord Looked only on the traitor. None record What that look was; none guess : even those who

have seen Wronged lovers loving through a death-pang keen, Or pale-cheeked martyrs smiling to a sword, Have missed Jehovah at the judgment-call. And Peter, from the height of blasphemy“I never knew this man ”—did quail and fall, And knowing straight That GOD,—and turned free, And went speechless from the face of all, And filled the silence, weeping bitterly.


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THINK that look of Christ might seem to say,

Thou, Peter! art thou then a common stone

Which I at last must break my heart upon, For all God's charge, to His high angels, may Guard my foot better? Did I yesterday Wash thy feet, my beloved, that they should run Quick to deny me 'neath the morning sun,And do thy kisses, like the rest, betray ?The cock crows coldly.—Go, and manifest A late contrition, but no bootless fear ! For when thy deathly need is obdurest, Thou shalt not be denied, as I am hereMy voice, to God and angels, shall attest, -Because I know this man, let him be clear.


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