The Transfiguration.

Jesus taketh Peter, James, and John his brother, and bringeth them up into an high mountain apart, and was transfigured before them; and his face did shine as the sun, and his raiment was white as the light.—ST. MATTHEW xvii. 1, 2.

HAIL! King of Glory, clad in robes of light,

Outshining all we here call bright!

Hail, light's divinest galaxy!

Hail, express image of a Diety!

Could now thy faithful spouse thy beauties view,

How would her wounds all bleed anew!

Lovely thou art all o'er and bright,

Thou Israel's glory, and thou Gentile's light.

But whence this brightness, whence this sudden day?
Who did thee thus with light array?

Did thy divinity dispense

To its consort a more liberal influence?
Or did some curious angel's chymic art
The spirits of purest light impart,
Drawn from the native spring of day,
And wrought into an organizéd ray?

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THE TRANSFIGURATION.

Howe'er 'twas done, 'tis glorious and divine;
Thou dost with radiant wonders shine:
The sun and his bright company,

Are all gross meteors, if compared to thee:

Thou art the fountain whence their light does flow,
But to thy will thine own dost owe ;

For (as at first) thou didst but say,

"Let there be light," and straight sprang forth this wondrous day.

Let now the Eastern princes come and bring

Their tributary offering.

There needs no star to guide their flight;

They'll find thee now, great King, by thine own light.

And thou, my soul, adore, love, and admire,

And follow this bright guide of fire.

Do thou thy hymns and praises bring,

Whilst angels, with veiled faces, anthems sing.

John Norris.*

*Born 1657; died 1711.

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The Blind Restored to Sight.

And I went and washed, and I received sight.-ST. JOHN ix. 11.

WHEN the great master spoke,

He touched his withered eyes, And at one gleam upon him broke The glad earth and the skies.

And he saw the city's walls,
And kings' and prophets' tomb,

And mighty arches, and vaulted halls,

And the temple's lofty dome.

He looked on the river's flood,

And the flash of mountain rills,

And the gentle waves of the palms that stood
Upon Judea's hills.

He saw on heights and plains

Creatures of every race:

But a mighty thrill went through his veins

When he met the human face;

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THE BLIND RESTORED TO SIGHT.

And his virgin sight beheld

The ruddy glow of even,

And the thousand shining orbs that filled

The azure depths of heaven.

And woman's voice before

Had cheered his gloomy night,

But to see the angel form she wore
Made deeper the delight;

And his heart at daylight's close,
For the bright world where he trod,
And when the yellow morn arose,
Gave speechless thanks to God.

John H. Bryant.

The Raising of Lazarus.

Then said Jesus unto them plainly, "Lazarus is dead.”—ST. JOHN xi. 14.

THE sepulchre was gaping wide,

Its closing-stone was rolled aside,

And shuddering crowds pressed round, to win

A sight of the foul scene within.

The charnel-stream, too strong to bear,

Ascended on the healthful air,

And groaning deep for him who slept,
Ev'n Christ stood at the grave-and wept.
He wept!--but his was not the tear
Of human grief, on human bier,

That gushes, trustless of to-morrow,
In unassuaged excess of sorrow;

And yet he wept!-though there he stood,
In power's unquestioned plenitude,
While every sacred drop that fell

Was life to death-was death to hell!

But closer now, and closer grew

The press of the surrounding crew,

Who wist not that he came to save,
As he stooped o'er the dead man's grave,

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