They filled the water vessels to the brim,

And then with wondering eyes they turned to Him,

Who stood in power and majesty serene.

Each pulse was stilled, each quivering breath was hushed,
"The conscious water saw its God and blushed!"

"JESUS WEPT.”

BY REV. WM. C. WHITCOMB.

flesh he offered up prayers Those tears of the Saviour

AN inspired apostle tells us, respecting the Lord Jesus Christ, that" in the days of his with strong crying and tears." were expressive ones; they were full of meaning. They betokened a sensitive heart; they indicated the deepest emotion; they spoke, more eloquently than words, of his boundless love for guilty man; they declared, in a language not to be misunderstood, that he can be "touched with the feeling of our infirmities."

There is not, as one writer well remarks, a "shorter verse nor a longer text" in the whole Bible than this: "Jesus wept." There is more embodied in those two words than in some extensive libraries of ordinary books. He who first divided the different portions of the New Testament into chapters, and subdivided them into verses, seems to have paused with astonishment at the words, "Jesus wept," and to have made an entire verse thereof.

How affecting, also, the account of the weeping of Christ over Jerusalem! His tears, which commingled with those of Mary and Martha, after their brother had been dead four days (see John, 11: 35), may be considered as a rivulet, belonging to one family; his tears over the beloved city of the Jews, as recorded in Luke, 19: 41, may be likened to a broad and deep river, designed for his native country; and his tears during the hours preceding his crucifixion, to which reference is doubtless made in Hebrews, 5: 7, may be compared to a mighty ocean belonging to all mankind. O how significant and precious were all those tears of his !

I love to think much of Christ, not only as the "Son of God," but as a man, as a carpenter and the son of a

carpenter; as mine elder brother, who has a heart to feel for the woes of the race; as a descendant of David, who "knows what sore temptations mean," having experienced the same.

Who that has been called to part from friends for a brief season, and noticed at the moment of separation the eyes of those friends suffused with heart-drops in the shape of tears, has not remembered and prized such tears as sacred mementos; as tokens and pledges of true affection; as silent testimonials of uncommon interest; as proofs of undying attachment; as LovE more impressively exhibited than by the bestowment of the costliest gifts, or the uttering of the loudest protestations?

But, dearer and sweeter by far are the evidences, on the pages of inspiration, that Christ shed tears for the children of men: "Jesus wept." Though infinitely happy in himself, as Son of God and Lord of all, yet as son of man and son of the Virgin Mary, he was "familiar with sorrows and acquainted with griefs." Nor was he ashamed to be seen weeping. He did not, like some modern stoics, consider tears as the offspring of a weak head and a foolish heart. Far from it.

Some there be, who deem it childish and womanish to weep; but let such bear in mind, that they reflect discredit upon the Saviour of the world, the Christian's only model. With so illustrious a precedent, who need attempt to hide his tears, lest he be considered effeminate? Who? In the famous letter which Lentulus is said to have written to the Senate of Rome, we find it declared, that "Christ was never known to laugh, but to weep often."

That wonderful personage, the man Christ Jesus, had strong natural affections, and a touching tenderness of spirit. He had contracted an ardent friendship for the household of which Lazarus was a member; and it is not surprising that the Jews were constrained to exclaim, "Behold how he loved him!" and that he wept, from the fulness of a warm and feeling heart, with the bereaved sisters.

No doubt a subdued and softened cheerfulness characterized the appearance of our Saviour. In his humanity, he

had all our susceptibilities. Keenly alive was he to humanity's woes and wants. In his physical and mental organization, he was possessed of every thing which goes to constitute a perfect MAN; and, if it were not dignified and manly to weep, he never would have shed those tears of which we read. There is not only, according to Scripture, "a time to laugh," a time to sing, and a time to shout, but also "a time to weep." And "blessed are those who mourn now, for they shall be comforted." Blessed are those who shed penitential tears for self and sympathizing tears for others; for they are hastening unto that blissful state where all tears are forever wiped away, where sorrow and crying shall be exchanged for songs of praise and joy and triumph.

Dear reader, let us drink in of the spirit of Jesus Christ, instead of being ashamed of him, and learn to "weep with those who weep," as we journey onward through this "vale of tears." Art thou afflicted, and does thy heart sink within thee in view of earthly disappointments? Behold, a Friend most glorious is standing before thee, with arms outstretched, and countenance all beaming with love! It is the sympathizing Jesus himself. Just go and cling to him, and he will kiss thy tears away, and fill thy soul with peace, celestial peace. He will pour upon thine aching breast and infuse into thy saddened spirit the balm of hope divine; for he has the largest and the most loving heart in all the universe.

"His own soft hand shall wipe the tears

From every weeping eye."

Weeping may endure for a night, but lo! joy cometh in the morning, as saith the Scriptures.

Jesus wept! Not for all the riches, honors or pleasures of earth, would I have that one precious verse stricken from the pages of the Bible! It meets a deeply-felt want of the human soul, and is beautifully suggestive of the affectionate and benevolent character of the son of Joseph, the world's Redeemer. Did the sinless Jesus shed so many tears, and "shall our cheeks be dry?" Forbid it, merciful Heaven! Forbid it, my beloved kindred!

VESPER

66
BY HOLMI."

THE hour is strangely beautiful. The West
Seems quivering in a smile of golden light,
Which pales, and pales, as higher up it spreads,
And melts, at last, in deepening twilight shades
Of gray, across whose dark yet clear expanse
Come flitting some light clouds, as if their way
Were lost, and they, like weary travellers,
Would hasten onward to their distant home.
Methinks that they are sentinels, perchance,
And through the lofty sky their ceaseless round
Are taking, as they watch this world below;
Sunrise and sunset signal fires may be,
Exchanging messages we dream not of
"In our philosophy."

And now the step

Is heard of evening's zephyrs, as they come

With viewless tread above the swaying trees,

Which bend to make their path, and are refreshed,
And cooled, and gladdened, in their passing by.
A silent monitor, the old church tower,

Stands out, as if upon the placid sky

'Twere carved in deep relief, by God's own hand, And had for centuries been graven there.

Now, brightly trembling through the azure depths,
Come one by one the angel band of stars,
Their night-watch keeping o'er the weary ones,
Who sink to slumber on "the green earth's breast."
Hushed now the city's fevered, restless pulse,
Which, in the day, by its huge throbbing, makes
Of all its wide domain a Babel vast,

Where tongues, and trades, and violence, and crime,
In ceaseless strife and ceaseless toil, bind

Both hands and hearts to one dark treadmill round.

All silent now, save when some sound of work

Breaks in upon the calmly resting air;
As when some tired child in fitful sleep

Reposes, after play, and from his dream

Starts up, and shouts his playmate's name aloud.
And now its wing the night o'er earth and sky
Hath folded in a dark embrace.

On high

And bright illuminated stretches wide

The glorious presence-chamber of the stars.

The massive turrets of the old church tower

Look down in grandeur, still unaltered, though
Their chiselled outline now seems traced

Less boldly than upon the sunset sky;

And veiling shadows wrap them round the trees,
As if to shelter them till day.

And now

The heart awakes to know itself, to list

The tones which have from its own strings been brought,

And ponders long, and ofttimes sadly too,

On mysteries, on hopes, on fears, on woes,

On aspirations, which, like lofty stars,

The burning day-light shutteth out from view;
And Memory in her picture gallery now
Walks softly, bright'ning many faded tints,

And lifting many long unlifted veils

Which Time and Care have woven fast, while we

Have thoughtless turned, lured by some newer scene.

O now they look so sadly down on us,

Those spirit portraits, with their steadfast eyes
The early loved and lost, loved, O how well!
The deeply wronged, perhaps, and the deceived.
Reproachfully, yet silently and still,

Points Memory's finger to their forms, and we,
If we have hearts, must gaze and weep.

For 'tis

Most strange, that aught the heart has ever known

Of hope, of fear, of joy, should be forgot

So soon; that of those music notes, so deep

And wonderful, the echo soon must die :
That Time or Death itself should e'er efface
The memory of Love.

And yet 't is well;

For found the heart no baseness in itself,
Its love were selfishness, its pride most false

And abject, and its charity most stern;
And in an hour like this, its noblest thoughts
To earthly ends and aims would clinging turn,
Did it not read itself so weak, so frail,

That it must seek a refuge in its God.

CHRISTIAN principle forbids us to be rude to any one, however disagreeable to us.