Heralds the year of Jubilee proclaim ;
Bow every knee at the Redeemer's name;
O'er lands, with darkness, thraldom, guilt o'erspread,
In light, joy, freedom, be the Spirit shed;
Speak Thou the word; to Satan's power say “ Cease,”
But to a world of pardon'd sinners, “ Peace.”
– Thus in thy grace, Lord God, Thyself make

known;
Then shall all tongues confess Thee God alone.

THE STRANGER AND HIS FRIEND.

“ Ye have done it unto me.” — Matt. xxv. 40.

A POOR wayfaring Man of grief
Hath often cross'd 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 was there something in his eye,
That won my love, I knew not why.

Once, when my scanty meal was spread,
He enter'd ; — not a word he spake ; -

Just perishing for want of bread;
I gave him all ; he bless'd it, brake,
And ate, — but gave me part again ;
Mine was an 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 mock'd his thirst,
He heard it, saw it hurrying on:
I ran to raise the sufferer up;
Thrice from the stream he drain’d my cup,
Dipt, and return’d it running o'er ;
I drank, and never thirsted more.

'T was 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 warm’d, I clothed, I cheer'd my guest,
Laid him on my own couch to rest ;.
Then made the hearth my bed, and seem'd
In Eden's garden while I dream’d.

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 heal’d;
I had myself a wound conceal’d;
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And Peace bound up my broken heart.

In prison I saw him next, condemn'd
To meet a traitor's doom at morn ;
The tide of lying tongues I stemm’d,
And honour'd him 'midst shame and scorn :
My friendship’s utmost zeal to try,
He ask'd, 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.”