THE MEETING OF JACOB AND JOSEPH.

"Now let me die, since I have seen thy face, because thou art yet alive!"GENESIS XLVI. 30.

HIGH as the pyramids of Egypt soar,
And firm as their foundations stand,
Was Israel's hope, when Canaan's land-
Beyond fair Jordan's honey-pastured shore-
He left; to find his much loved son,

Who had, in Pharaoh's house, great honours won.

That son, now clothed in princely garments, came With joy, to meet his aged sire;

While in his breast woke sacred fire,

To feed his ripening zeal,-the purest flame
Of love and swift his willing feet
His chariot left, a father's eyes to greet!

They met !-Oh! who hath known a joy like this, Whose spirit did not praise, and bless,

The Lord of life and happiness?

And Jacob bless'd so great a heaven-born bliss,
While on his son he hung to weep-

At such a sight, no parents tears would sleep!

"Now let me die, since I behold once more,
Thy well-known features, O my son !-
Life's sorrowing course is quickly run,
And my short pilgrimage will soon be o'er ;-
O praise the Lord, each inmost power,
Whose mercy spared my soul, to see this hour!”

Long fondly clung the old man's wither'd hand,
'Round Joseph's neck—and full of love,
Their mingling tears together strove—
For now they met, though in a heathen land,
To part no more; 'till death's decree
Should draw the veil, that hides eternity!

AHIJAH'S PROPHECY.

"Arise thou therefore, get thee to thine own house; and when thy feet enter into the city, the child shall die."-1 KINGS, XIV. 12.

UPON the mother's troubled ear,

How heavy falls that dreadful sound;
"Go to thy home! nor tempt the Lord-
His judgments wait his awful word,—

Within thy home, shall death be found!"

THE CRUCIFIXION.

“Ηλί, Ηλι, λαμὰ σαβαχθανί.”—MATTHEW XXVII. 46.

SINNERS behold! the Lamb is slain!

For you stretch'd on th' accursed tree!
Mourn, mourn ye saints, the Holy One
Is sacrificed, from sin to free!

O! wond'rous love! when from the upper sky,
He left his Father's throne, for man to die!

Lo! angels hide their faces now—
Nature a darker gloom puts on;
To view the Lord of glory bleed,

God's own, and everlasting Son!

Rocks, mountains shake, and temples cleave in twain, On Calvary's cross the Saviour suffers pain!

See, on his righteous brow, a crown
They force, of interwoven thorn:
See there, his writhing, naked limbs-
Are pierced-by cruel hands are torn!
The purple current mingles with his breath,
To agonize the iron grasp of death!

See, how the heavy load of crime-
He bore to save our rebel race-

Bows down his soul :-and view, with grief,
The wreck within his heavenly face.

Amidst such pangs, he called upon his God,
But, murmuring not, he death and darkness trod.

From heaven no soothing succour came,

To ease the Saviour's out-pour'd soul; Not e'en the bitterest stripe was sparedThe curse came down !-He bore the whole ! And when Almighty wrath was satisfied, "Lord it is finished," Jesus said, and died!

In glory, now, he pleads for us,

Yet sin rends every vein anew; And still each open wound proclaims, "Sinners, he bled-he died for you!"

Then come-nor fear-he intercedes for all; Though weary, wretched, "Come," it is his call.

THE BIBLE.

"The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul, the testimony of the Lord is sure making wise the simple."-PSALM XIX. 7.

BLESSED Bible! kind instructor,
Travel with me side by side:
Be each precept my conductor-
Be thy truths alone, my guide.

Bible! source of heavenly pleasure—
Comfort of earth's dreary night;
Wide diffuse thy glorious treasure,
Spread abroad the Gospel's light.

Bible !-never sound, so sweetly
O'er the christian's senses fell;
Never promises so meetly,

Could the world's allurements tell.

Bible! had not rays so kindly,

Been upon thy pages shown;

Sinners, 'midst their wanderings blindly,
Ne'er a Saviour's love had known.

O blessed Bible! I would hold thee
To my trembling, guilty, heart;
Yes, and there with joy unfold thee,
To subdue the burning smart.

Thou dost to the Lord of glory,

Bid my soul with hope draw near, And in faith, when life's grown hoary, I will hold thee ever dear.

Yes, when death's stern voice shall call me,
Clasp thee to my bosom still;

What though terrors would appal me—
I may calmly, "fear no ill."