Cheap forms, and common hues, 'tis true, Even so who loves the Lord aright, Since Christ on all hath shin'd; No distance breaks the tie of blood, Oft, ere the common source be known, Move heart towards heart by sympathy. So is it with true Christian hearts; Of holiest brotherhood: Oh! might we all our lineage prove, Then draw we nearer, day by day, Let the world take us as she may, We must not change our road, Not wondering, though in grief, to find, The martyr's foe still keep her mind; But fixed to hold Love's banner fast, And by submission win at last. COMMANDMENT OF CHARITY. ANONYMOUS. In the hour of keenest sorrow- To assuage a brother's grief.. Go and seek the orphan sighing— Go-dispel their darkest fears; Go, with manners unassuming, Though thy brother sadly stray; 'Tis a Saviour's kind compassion 'Tis his righteousness alone, All unmerited salvation That a round thy path has shown. THE POWER AND BLESSEDNESS OF CHARITABLE SYMPATHY. TUPPER. Man is of three natures, claiming all for charity! It is not enough to give him meats, withholding other comfort; For the mind starveth, and the soul is scorned, and so the human animal Eateth its unsatisfying pittance, a thankless, heartless pauper : Yet would he bless thee and be grateful, didst thou feed his spirit, And teach him that thine alms-givings are charities, are loves. I saw a beggar in the street, and another beggar pitied him; Sympathy sank into his soul, and the pitied one felt hap pier : Anon passed by a cavalcade, children of wealth and gaity; They laughed, and looked upon the beggar, and the gal lants flung him gold; He, poor spirit. humbled wretch, gathered up their givings with a curse, And went to share it with his brother, the beggar, who had pitied him. APOSTROPHE TO CHARITY. POLLOK. Breathe all thy minstrelsy, immortal harp! Thy praise, O Charity! thy labors most HE DOETH ALL THINGS WELL. well." Months pass'd, that bud of promise was unfolding every hour, I thought that earth had never smil'd upon a fairer flower, Years fled that little sister then, was dear as life to me, spell, Forgetful of the praise of Him "who doeth all things well." The star went out in beauty, yet it shineth sweetly now, In the bright and dazzling coronet that decks the Saviour's brow, She bow'd to the destroyer's hand, whose shafts none may repel, But we know, for God has told us, "He doeth all things well." I remember well my sorrow as I stood beside her bed, My deep and heartfelt anguish when they told me she was dead! And oh! that cup of bitterness-let not my heart rebel; God gave, He took, He will restore "He doeth all things well." CHRISTIANITY, IS WHAT? Is what, dost thou ask? "Tis the sunbeam that dries What is it? The perfume which steals from sweet flowers, What is it? The young breeze, whose pinions, unfurled; What is it? A star on the wild-heaving sea, |