Have gathered you, as gathereth a hen

Her brood beneath her wings,

- but ye would not!"

He thought not of the death that he should die-
He thought not of the thorns he knew must pierce
His forehead, of the buffet on the cheek,

The scourge, the mocking homage, the foul scorn!
Gethsemane stood out beneath his eye

Clear in the morning sun, and there, he knew,
While they who "could not watch with him one hour"
Were sleeping, he should sweat great drops of blood,
Praying the cup might pass. And Golgotha
Stood bare and desert by the city wall,
And in its midst, to his prophetic eye,

Rose the rough cross, and its keen agonies
Were numbered all, the nails were in his feet,
The insulting sponge was pressing on his lips,
The blood and water gushing from his side,
The dizzy faintness swimming in his brain,
And, while his own disciples fled in fear,
A world's death-agonies all mixed in his!
Ay!he forgot all this. He only saw
Jerusalem, the chosen, the loved, the lost!
He only felt that for her sake his life
Was vainly given, and in his pitying love

The sufferings that would clothe the heavens in black
Were quite forgotten. Was there ever love,

In earth or heaven, equal unto this?

Nathaniel Parker Willis.

FAIR

JERUSALEM.

shines the

moon, Jerusalem, Upon the hills that wore Thy glory once, their diadem

Ere Judah's reign was o'er:
The stars on hallowed Olivet
And over Zion burn,

But when shall rise thy splendor set?
Thy majesty return?

The peaceful shades that wrap thee now
Thy desolation hide;

The moonlit beauty of thy brow

Restores thine ancient pride;

Yet there, where Rome thy Temple rent, The dews of midnight wet

The marble dome of Omar's tent,

And Aksa's minaret.

Thy strength, Jerusalem, is o'er,
And broken are thy walls;

The harp of Israel sounds no more

In thy deserted halls :

But where thy Kings and Prophets trod,

Triumphant over Death,

Behold the living Son of God,

The Christ of Nazareth!

The halo of his presence fills

Thy courts, thy ways of men;

His footsteps on thy holy hills

Are beautiful as then;

The prayer, whose bloody sweat betrayed

His human agony,

Still haunts the awful olive shade

Of old Gethsemane.

Woe unto thee, Jerusalem!
Slayer of Prophets, thou,

That in thy fury stonest them

God sent, and sends thee now:

Where thou, O Christ! with anguish spent,
Forgav'st thy foes, and died,

Thy garments yet are daily rent, —
Thy soul is crucified!

They darken with the Christian name
The light that from thee beamed,
And by the hatred they proclaim
Thy spirit is blasphemed;

Unto thine ear the prayers they send
Were fit for Belial's reign,
And Moslem cimeters defend
The temple they profane.

Who shall rebuild Jerusalem ?

Her scattered children bring From Earth's far ends, and gather them

Beneath her sheltering wing?

For Judah's sceptre broken lies,

And from his kingly stem

No new Messiah shall arise

For lost Jerusalem!

But let the wild ass on her hills

Its foal unfrighted lead,

And by the source of Kedron's rills

The desert adder breed:

For where the love of Christ has made
Its mansion in the heart,

He builds in pomp that will not fade

Her heavenly counterpart.

Bayard Taylor.

Jordan, the River.

THE RIVER JORDAN.

EW ruins now those willowy banks disclose,

FEW

But fresh as in old days the current flows;
Here lofty reeds and palms shut out the beam,
And there romantic rocks o'erhang the stream.
Rare flowers, man trains not, deck the mossy ground,
And each slight breeze wafts almond-blooms around;
The bee secure along the lilied shore

Winds her blithe horn, and steals her honeyed store;
Blue skies look down on bluer waves; the air
Is soft and fragrant, as some angel there,
Just flown from Paradise, had spread his plume,
Hushing the earth, and shaking round perfume.

Sweet Jordan! surely here sad hearts might rest,
And calm Religion love a scene so blest.

How famed this lonely tract in sacred lore!
"T was here the desert prophet roamed of yore;
Far south dark Nebo lifts its hoary head,
Whence Moses viewed the land he could not tread,
Toward Canaan cast his dim-beholding eye,

And blessed the scene before he sank to die.
Here, too, the mighty seer, Elijah came,

And rose to heaven, upborne by steeds of flame.
In yon wild valley mouldered Ammon lowers,
And shattered walls are seen, and fallen towers;
There reigned a king who swayed these palmy plains;
No child of Lot, no subject now remains ;

Lone sits the stork in Ammon's royal halls,
And from her reed-grown courts the bull-frog calls.
Nicholas Michell.

A

A HYMN OF TRUE HAPPINESS.

MIDST the azure clear

Of Jordan's sacred streams,

Jordan, of Libanon the offspring dear,

When zephyr's flowers unclose,

And sun shines with new beams,

With grave and stately grace a nymph arose.

Upon her head she ware

Of amaranths a crown,

Her left hand palms, her right a brandon bare;