The echoes of the melancholy strain

Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, Struggling with weakness, and bowed down his head

Unto the sprinkled ashes, and put off
His costly raiment for the leper's garb,
And with the sackcloth round him, and his lip
Hid in a loathsome covering, stood still,
Waiting to hear his doom :-

Depart! depart, O child

Of Israel, from the temple of thy God;

For He has smote thee with his chastening rod. And to the desert wild,

From all thou lovest, away thy feet must flee,
That from thy plague His people may be free.
Depart, and come not near

The busy mart, the crowded city, more;
Nor set thy foot a human threshold o'er.

And stay thou not to hear

Voices that call thee in the way;

and fly

From all who in the wilderness pass by.

Wet not thy burning lip

In streams that to a human dwelling glide;

Nor rest thee where the covert fountains bide;
Nor kneel thee down to dip

The water where the pilgrim bends to drink,
By desert well or river's grassy brink.

And pass not thou between

The weary traveller and the cooling breeze,
And lie not down to sleep beneath the trees
Where human tracks are seen.

Nor milk the goat that browseth on the plain, Nor pluck the standing corn, or yellow grain.

And now depart! and when

Thy heart is heavy, and thy eyes are dim,
Lift up thy prayer beseechingly to Him
Who, from the tribes of men,

Selected thee to feel his chastening rod.
Depart, oh leper! and forget not God!

And he went forth-alone; not one, of all The many whom he loved, nor she whose name Was woven in the fibres of the heart

Breaking within him now, to come and speak Comfort unto him. Yea, he went his way, Sick, and heart-broken, and alone, to die; For God hath cursed the leper!

It was noon,

And Helon knelt beside a stagnant pool
In the lone wilderness, and bathed his brow,
Hot with the burning leprosy, and touched
The loathsome water to his parched lips,
Praying that he might be so blessed-to die!
Footsteps approached, and with no strength to
flee,

He drew the covering closer on his lip,

Crying, "Unclean! Unclean!" and, in the folds
Of the coarse sackcloth, shrouding up his face,
He fell upon the earth till they should pass.
Nearer the stranger came, and bending o'er
The leper's prostrate form, pronounced his name,
"Helon!"-the voice was like the master-tone

kih na zmenets veas beceath the bot kih zna da vil a restoring thrill. "Woon, arise" and he forgot his curse, And rose and stood before him.

Love and awe

Mingled in the regard of Helon's eye
As he beheld the stranger. He was not
In costly raiment clad, nor on his brow
The symbol of a princely lineage wore;
No followers at his back, nor in his hand
Buckler, or sword, or spear;-yet in his mien
Command sat throned serene, and, if he smiled,
A kindly condescension graced his lips,

The lion would have crouched to in his lair.
His garb was simple, and his sandals worn;
His statue modelled with a perfect grace;
His countenance, the impress of a God,
Touched with the open innocence of a child;
His eye was blue and calm, as is the sky
In the serenost noon; his air, uushorn,
Well on his shoulders; and his curling beard
the fulness of perfected manhood bore.
He looked on Helon earnestly awhile.

As if his heart was moved, and stooping down.
He took a little water in his hand,

And lid on his brow, and said, “Be clean.“ bid to site scales fèil from him, and his bood Matsed with delicious coviness through his veins. ad ha dy palus grew moist, and on his brow

The dewy softness of an infant's stole.
His leprosy was cleansed, and he fell down.
Prostrate at Jesus' feet, and worshipped him.

WILLIS.

RE

Return, thou Day of Holiness!

ETURN, thou wished and welcome guest,
Thou day of holiness and rest;

The best, the dearest of the seven,
Emblem and harbinger of heaven!
Though not the Bridegroom, at his voice,
Friend of the Bridegroom, still rejoice.
Day, doubly sanctified and blessed,
Thee the CREATOR crowned with rest;
From all his works, from all his woes,
On thee the SAVIOUR found repose.
Thou dost, with mystic voice, rehearse
The birth-day of an universe:
Prophet, historian, both, in scope
Thou speak'st to memory and to hope.
Amidst the earthliness of life,

Vexation, vanity, and strife,

Sabbath! how sweet thy holy calm
Comes o'er the soul, like healing balm;
Comes like the dew to fainting flowers,
Renewing her enfeebled powers.
Thine hours, how soothingly they glide,
Thy morn, thy noon, thine eventide!

All meet as brethren, mix as friends;
Nature her general groan suspends ;

No cares the sin-born labourers tire; E'en the poor brutes thou bid'st respire; 'Tis almost as, restored awhile,

Earth had resumed her Eden smile.
I love thy call of earthly bells,
As on my waking ear it swells;
I love to see thy pious train
Seeking in groups the solemn fane:
But most I love to mingle there
In sympathy of praise and prayer,
And listen to that living word,
Which breathes the Spirit of the Lord:
Or at the mystic table placed,
Those eloquent mementos taste
Of Thee, Thou suffering Lamb Divine,
Thy soul-refreshing bread and wine;
Sweet viands given us to assuage
The faintness of the pilgrimage.
Severed from Salem, while unstrung
His harp on Pagan willows hung,
What wonder if the Psalmist pined,
As for her brooks the hunted hind!-
The temple's humblest place should win
Gladlier than all the pomp of sin;
;-
Envied th' unconscious birds that sung
Around those altars, o'er their young;
And deemed one heavenly Sabbath worth
More than a thousand days of earth;
Well might his harp and heart rejoice
To hear, once more, that festal voice:

66

Come, brethren, come with glad accord, Haste to the dwelling of the Lord."