THE THREE WAKINGS.

He saw a young child standing

In a famine-stricken land, Entrusted with a bounteous store, The gifts of a gracious hand.

He saw it scatter its treasures
In idle and thankless waste;
And when from its idlesse startled,
It gave away the rest,

And the grateful people hastened
To garland its guilty head,-

It took the homage as its due,

Then cried like the rest for bread.

And stung with shame and anguish,
He cried, "It is I; it is I;
Father, forgive, forgive my sin!"
And he cried with a bitter cry.

That cry reached the heart of the Father:
Once more he looked on high,
And in the depths of heaven,-
In the calm of the upper sky,-

He saw 'midst the sea of glory,-
A glory surpassing bright,

One crowned with a crown of inheritance,
Clad in unborrowed light.

He saw Him leave the glory,
And lay aside the crown,
And to that land of famine

Came, touched with pity, down ;

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And gird Himself for service,

And minister to all:

No service was for Him too mean,
No care of love too small.

But men paid Him no homage,

They crowned Him with no crown; And the dying bed they made for Him Was not a bed of down.

What more then met his vision
Falls dimly on mortal ears;
The angels were mute with wonder,
And the poet with grateful tears.

The rebel will was broken,

The captive heart was free,"O Lord of all, who servedst all, Let me Thy servant be!"

He woke; once more he found him

In the home where he played a child; His mother held his feverish hand,

His sisters wept and smiled.

He loved them more than ever,

With a pure and fervent love; He loved God's sun and earth and skies, Though his home lay far above.

His poet's crown lay near him

Fused to a golden cup;

It would carry water for parched lips,
So he thankfully took it up.

THE THREE WAKINGS.

He went in the strength of dependence
To tread where his Master trod,
To gather and knit together
The family of God:

Awhile as a heaven-born stranger
To pass through this world of sin,
With a heart diffusing the balm of peace
From the place of peace within:

With a conscience freed from burdens,
And a heart set free from care,

To minister to every one
Always and everywhere.

No more on the heights of glory
A lonely man he stood;
Around him gathered tenderly
A lowly brotherhood.

They spent their lives for others,
Yet the world knew them not,—
It had not known their Master,-
And they sought no higher lot.

But the angels of heaven knew them,

And He knew them who died and rose; And the poet knew that the lowest place Was that which the Highest chose.

E. C.

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LUTHER'S PARABLES.

WHATEVER may be the reason, German literature is rich in parables; and some of them, as our readers may hereafter have the opportunity of judging, are remarkably beautiful. A few are to be found scattered here and there in the writings of Martin Luther, and we give them as not only the oldest specimens, but as lively illustrations of their author's mind. Some may think that their style is too playful, and their fancy too free; but those acquainted with the old Popish Mysteries will feel no surprise at the undignified dramatis personæ in " The Ass and the Lion,” and an excuse for the ponies and playthings with which the "Boys' Paradise" is peopled must be sought in the circumstance that the allegory is addressed to a child who had never seen the harps, and the palms, and other objects employed in Scriptural imagery. He wished to paint a picture which would at once speak to the eye of his own German boy; to an older correspondent he would doubtless have used other language. It may be added, as characteristic of the writer's cheerful and fatherly spirit, that the following letter was penned amidst the anxieties of the Augsburg Diet. version of " The Ass and the Lion" is somewhat abridged.

THE BOYS' PARADISE.

Our

Grace and peace in Christ be thine, my well-beloved boy! It does my heart good to see thee learning well and praying diligently. Do so, my son, and continue therein, and when I come home I will bring thee a fine fairing. I know a beautiful pleasure-garden, and there are many children walking there, and they have on golden coats, and

THE BOYS' PARADISE.

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under the trees they gather the finest apples and pears, and they sing and leap about, and are merry; and they have beautiful little ponies too, with golden bits and silver saddles. And I asked the man whose the garden was, To whom do these children belong? And he said, These are the children who love their prayers, and who delight to learn, and are pious.

Then said I, I also have a son; his name is Johnnie Luther might not he come, too, into the garden, that he may eat of these fine apples and pears, and ride upon one of these beautiful little ponies, and play himself with these children? Then the man said, Yes, if he takes delight in prayer, and is pious, and learns well, he may also come into the garden, and little Philip and Justus too; and if they come all together, they shall have fifes, and trumpets, and drums, and all manner of fine playthings, and they shall dance there, and have little cross-bows to shoot with.

Then he showed me in the garden a beautiful meadow, prepared for dancing; and hanging there, there were fifes and drums of pure gold, and fine silver bows. But it was early, and the children had not dined yet. And therefore I could not wait for the dance, but I said to the man, Ah, my dear sir, I will go quickly, and write all that to my dear little son Hans, and tell him to be diligent at his prayers and at his lessons, and to live in God's fear; that he also may come into this garden. But he has a good aunt, too-aunt Magdalene, and he must bring her with him. And the man said, It is well: go and write so to him.

Therefore, my dear little boy, go on and learn and pray heartily, and tell Philip and Justus to do the same; and so you will all come together into the garden. And so I commend you to Almighty God. Greet Aunt Magdalene, and give her a kiss on my account.