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Cry aloud, cry aloud, with your voices of woe,
Perhaps he is now in pursuit of his foe;
Cry aloud, cry aloud, like a trumpet of war,
Perhaps he is gone on some journey afar ;
Cry aloud, cry aloud, in your agony deep;
Perhaps he is laid on his pillow of sleep."
When Elijah had spoken, an altar was reared
To the Lord that he worshipped, the Lord that he feared ;
And he bowed him in prayer, and the fire was bestowed,
And the God of his sires was acknowledged as God.
And the prophets of Baal, who had offered in vain,
Were led to the banks of the Kishon, and slain;
For the god of their worship appeared not to save
The blood of the heathen that crimsoned the wave.


(1771—1854.) JAMES MONTGOMERY, the son of a Moravian missionary, was born at Irvine, in Ayrshire, in 1771; and was educated at the Moravian school at Fulneck, near Leeds. In 1792, he commenced his connection with the “Sheffield Iris," a newspaper which he afterwards conducted for the space of thirty years, retiring from his editorial duties in 1825. In January 1794, and again in January 1795, he was prosecuted for alleged political offences, and sentenced the first time to a fine of £20 and three months' imprisonment, and the second time to a fine of £30 and six months' imprisonment. He lived long enough to record that all his political an

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THE POOR WAYFARER.- Page 387. " (nasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have

done it unto ME.”-MATTHEW XXV. 40.

tagonists of those years had, without exception, died at peace with him.

In his latter years, he enjoyed a pension of £200 per annum from the discriminating bounty of his sovereign. His death occurred in the

year 1854.

James Montgomery's chief poetical works are, “The Wanderer of Switzerland and other Poems (1806); “The World before the Flood” (1813); “Greenland” (1819); and “The Pelican Island,” which is in many respects the most finished of his productions. His smaller poems exhibit great facility and smoothness, and an unfailing and exquisite amiability and devoutness of feeling.

А poor wayfaring man of grief

Hath often crossed me on my way,
Who sued so humbly for relief

That I could never answer, Nay.
I had not power to ask his name,
Whither he went, or whence he came,
Yet there was something in his eye
That won my love, I knew not why.
Once when my scanty meal was spread,

He entered; not a word he spake:
Just perishing for want of bread;

gave him all; he blessed it, brake,
And ate; but gave me part again : ·
Mine was the angel's portion then;
For while I fed with eager haste,
That crust was manna to my taste.
I spied him where a fountain burst

Clear from the rock; his strength was gone;
The heedless water mocked his thirst,

He heard it, saw it hurrying on:
I ran to raise the sufferer up:
Thrice from the stream he drained my cup,
Dipt, and returned it running o'er;
I drank, and never thirsted more.


'Twas night; the floods were out; it blew

A winter hurricane aloof;
I heard his voice abroad, and flew

To bid him welcome to my roof;
I warmed, I clothed, I cheered my guest,
Laid him on my own couch to rest;
Then made the hearth my bed, and seemed
In Eden's garden while I dreamed.
Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,

I found him by the highway side :
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,

Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment; he was healed :
I had myself a wound concealed;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.

In prison I saw him next, condemned

To meet a traitor's death at morn : The tide of lying tongues I stemmed,

And honoured him midst shame and scorn ; My friendship’s utmost zeal to try, He asked, if I for him would die ? The flesh was weak, my blood ran chill; But the free spirit cried, “I will."

Then in a moment to my view

The stranger darted from disguise ;
The tokens in his hands I knew,

My Saviour stood before mine eyes !
He spake; and my poor name He named;
“ Of Me thou hast not been ashamed;
These deeds shall thy memorial be;
Fear not; thou didst them unto Me."

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