THE DEFECTION OF THE DISCIPLES

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Yes: all forsook the Master's side

When foes and dangers clustered round, And when in bitterness he cried,

'Mid the dread garden's awful bound. Yet knew they not how near him stood The host of heaven, a guardian train, Deploring man's ingratitude,

And wondering at his Saviour's pain.

Oh! ye, whose hearts in secret bleed
O'er transient hope, like morning dew,
O'er friendship faithless in your need,
Or love to all its vows untrue;
Who shrink from persecution's rod,

Or slander's fang, or treachery's tone,
Look meekly to the Son of God,

And in his griefs forget your own.

Forsaken are ye ?-so was he,

Reviled ?—yet check the vengeful word,Rejected?-should the servant be

Exalted o'er his suffering Lord ?

Nor deem that Heaven's omniscient eye
Is e'er regardless of your lot,-
Deluded man from God may fly,
But when was man by God forgot?

L. H. Sigourney

The Remarse of Judas.

And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.-ST. MATTHEW Xxvii. 5.

THE thirty pieces down he flung,
For which his Lord he sold,
And turned away his murderer's face
From that accursed gold.

He can not sleep, he dares not watch;

That weight is on his heart,

For which, nor earth nor heaven have hope,
Which never can depart.

A curse is on his memory,

We shudder at his name;

At once we loathe and scorn his guilt,

And yet we do the same:
Alas! the sinfulness of man,

How oft in deed and word
We act the traitor's part again,

And do betray our Lord!

THE REMORSE OF JUDAS.

We bend the knee, record the vow,
And breathe the fervent prayer:
How soon are prayer and vow forgot,
Amid life's crime and care!"

The Saviour's passion, cross, and blood,
Of what avail are they

If first that Saviour we forget,
And next we disobey?

For pleasures, vanities, and hates,

The compact we renew,

And Judas rises in our hearts

We sell our Saviour too.

How for some moment's vain delight

We will embitter years,

And in our youth lay up for age

Only remorse and tears.

Ah! sanctify and strengthen, Lord,
The souls that turn to thee;

And from the devil and the world
Our guard and solace be.

And as the mariners at sea

Still watch some guiding star,

So fix our hearts and hopes on thee

Until thine own they are.

Miss Landon.

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The Crown of Thorns.

And when they had platted a crown of thorns they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand; and they bowed the knee before him, and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews."—St. Matthew xxvii. 29.

Too little do we think of thee,

Our too indulgent Lord:
We ask not what thy will may be,
We dwell not on thy word.

Thou, who in human shape wast born,

And shared in human woe;

Thou, who didst wear the crown of thorn,
Which all must wear below;

Thou, who the sinner's fate didst share,

Yet from the grave arise

Alas! unworthy that we are

Of such a sacrifice.

Thy love should fill our hearts, like dew

That fills the flowers by night;

Who in that gentle rain, renew

The waste of morning's light.

THE CROWN OF THORNS.

Thus doth life's hurry and its glare.
Dry up within our heart

The holier thoughts that are thy share,

The spirit's better part.

And yet we turn not to thy love,

We seek not to recall

The hopes that lift our souls above
Their low and earthly thrall.

On pleasures or on wealth intent,
Careless we hurry on,

And vainly precious hours are spent

Before we think them gone.

Their joy and sorrow, sin and strife,
Close round us like a bond,
Which so enslaves to present life,
We never look beyond.

O Lord, if every thought were thine,
How little would they be
Acceptable before thy shrine,
Unworthy heaven and thee.

Yet thou hast said, thou wilt accept
Prayers offer'd in thy name;
That never tears in vain were wept,
If from the heart they came.

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