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ST. JOHN'S DAY.

Peter seeing him saith to Jesus, Lord, and, what shall this man do? Jesus saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me. St. John xxi. 21, 22.

"LORD, and what shall this man do?" Ask'st thou, Christian, for thy friend?

If this love for Christ be true,

Christ hath told thee of his end: This is he whom God approves,

This is he whom Jesus loves.

Ask not of him more than this,

Leave it in his Saviour's breast,

Whether, early call'd to bliss,

He in youth shall find his rest,
Or armed in his station wait

Till his Lord be at the gate:

Whether in his lonely course

(Lonely, not forlorn) he stay, Or with Love's supporting force

Cheat the toil and cheer the way:

Leave it all in His high hand,

Who doth hearts as streams command ".

Gales from Heaven, if so He will,

Sweeter melodies can wake

On the lonely mountain rill

Than the meeting waters make. Who hath the Father and the Son, May be left, but not alone.

Sick or healthful, slave or free,

Wealthy, or despis'd and poor

What is that to him or thee,

So his love to Christ endure?

When the shore is won at last,
Who will count the billows past?

"The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord, as the rivers of water: he turneth it whithersoever he will. Proverbs xxi. 1.

Only, since our souls will shrink At the touch of natural grief, When our earthly lov'd ones sink,

Lend us, Lord, thy sure relief; Patient hearts, their pain to see, And thy grace, to follow Thee.

THE HOLY INNOCENTS.

These were redeemed from among men, being the firstfruits unto God and to the Lamb. Revelations xiv. 4.

SAY, ye celestial guards, who wait

In Bethlehem, round the Saviour's palace gate,
Say, who are these on golden wings,
That hover o'er the new-born King of kings,
Their palms and garlands telling plain
That they are of the glorious martyr train,
Next to yourselves ordain'd to praise
His Name, and brighten as on Him they gaze?

But where their spoils and trophies? where The glorious dint a martyr's shield should bear? How chance no cheek among them wears The deep-worn trace of penitential tears,

But all is bright and smiling love,
As if, fresh-borne from Eden's happy grove,
They had flown here, their King to see,

Nor ever had been heirs of dark mortality?

Ask, and some angel will reply,

"These, like yourselves, were born to sin and die, "But ere the poison root was grown,

"God set his seal, and mark'd them for his own. Baptiz'd in blood for Jesus' sake,

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"Now underneath the Cross their bed they make, "Not to be scar'd from that sure rest

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By frighten'd mother's shriek, or warrior's waving "crest."

Mindful of these, the first-fruits sweet
Borne by the suffering Church her Lord to greet;
Bless'd Jesus ever lov'd to trace

The "innocent brightness" of an infant's face.
He rais'd them in his holy arms,

He bless'd them from the world and all its harms:
Heirs though they were of sin and shame,
He bless'd them in his own and in his Father's name.

Then, as each fond unconscious child On th' everlasting Parent sweetly smil’d,

(Like infants sporting on the shore,

That tremble not at Ocean's boundless roar,)

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