Each toilsome duty, each foreboding fear; All to myself assigned of tribulation,

Or to beloved ones, than self more dear! All pensive memories, as I journey on,

Longings for vanished smiles, and voices gone!*

Thou knowest all the future, — gleams of glad

ness,

By stormy clouds too quickly overcast, Hours of sweet fellowship, and parting sadness, And the dark river to be crossed at last : Oh, what could confidence and hope afford To tread that path, but this, - Thou knowest, Lord!

Thou knowest, not alone as God, all-know

ing,

As man our mortal weakness Thou hast

proved;

On earth, with purest sympathies o'erflowing, Oh, Saviour! Thou hast wept, and Thou hast loved!

And love and sorrow still to Thee may come,
And find a hiding place, a rest, a home.

Therefore I come, Thy gentle call obeying,
And lay my sins and sorrows at Thy feet,
On everlasting strength my weakness staying,
Clothed in Thy robe of righteousness com-
plete :

Then rising and refreshed, I leave Thy throne,
And follow on to know as I am known!

RABBI, WHERE DWELLEST THOU ?

COME AND SEE.

ASTER, where abidest Thou?

M

Lamb of God, 't is Thee we seek, For the wants which press us now

Other aid is all too weak.

Canst Thou take our sins away

May we find repose in Thee?

From the gracious lips to-day,

?

As of old, breathes, "Come and see."

Master, where abidest Thou?

We would leave the past behind; We would scale the mountain's brow, Learning more Thy heavenly mind. Still a look is all our lore,

The transforming look to Thee; From the living Truth once more

Breathes the answer, "Come and see."

Master, where abidest Thou?

How shall we Thine image best

Bear in light upon our brow,

Stamp in love upon our breast? Still a look is all our might:

Looking draws the heart to Thee, Sends us from the absorbing sight

With the message,

"Come and see."

Master, where abidest Thou?
All the springs of life are low;
Sin and grief our spirits bow,

And we wait Thy call to go.
From the depths of happy rest,

Where the just abide with Thee:

From the Voice which makes them blest, Comes the summons, "Come and see."

Christian tell it to thy brother,

From life's dawning till its end;
Every hand may clasp another,
And the loneliest bring a friend ;
Till the veil is drawn aside,

And from where her home shall be,
Bursts upon the enfranchised Bride
The triumphant "Come and see."

THE WELL AT SYCHAR.

HEY have stopped the sacred well which the Patriarchs dug of old, Where they watered the patient flocks at noon, from the depths so pure and cold;

Where the Saviour asked for drink, and found

at noon repose:

But the living spring He opened then no human hands can close.

They have scattered the ancient stones, where

at noon He sat to rest:

None ever shall rest by that well again, and think how His accents blessed :

But the Rest for the burdened heart, the Shade in the weary land,

The riven Rock, with its living streams, forever unmoved shall stand.

Earth has no Temple now, no beautiful House of God,

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