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(Original.)

A HYMN FOR CHRISTIAN TEACHERS IN THE SCHOOLS OF YOUTH.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

GOD said "Let there be light!"

And light sprang forth new-born;
He spake, 'twas done-primeval night
Brake into glorious morn.

Who then shall dare to say

"Let there be darkness!" None

But "ravening wolves" that hate the day,
And owls that fear the sun.

Stars from the solar fount,

Their borrow'd lustre draw;

Moses came radiant from the Mount,

To teach God's holy law.

Warm from the throne of grace,

Where we have learnt his will,

When we go forth, may every face
Express his image still.

Light in the Lord are we,

While by his truth we stand, Reflecting beams of Deity,

Like stars in his right hand.

So shall our schools be found
As gardens of the Lord;
And fruits of holiness abound

Where'er we plant the Word.

THE WIDOW OF NAIN.

N. P. WILLIS.

THE Roman sentinel stood helmed and tall
Beside the gate of Nain. The busy tread
Of comers to the city mart was done,
For it was almost noon; and a dead heat
Quivered upon the firm and sleeping dust,
And the cold snake crept panting from the wall,
And basked his scaly circles in the sun.
Upon his spear the soldier leant, and kept
His idle watch; and as his drowsy dream
Was broken by the solitary foot

Of some poor mendicant, he raised his head
To curse him for a tributary Jew,

And slumberously dozed on.

'Twas now high noon;

The dull, low murmur of a funeral

Went through the city-the sad sound of feet
Unmixed with voices-and the sentinel

Shook off his slumber, and gazed earnestly
Up the wide street, along whose paved way
The silent throng crept slowly. They came on
Bearing a body heavily on its bier;

And by the crowd, that in the burning sun

Walked with forgetful sadness, 'twas of one

Mourned with uncommon sorrow. The broad gate
Swung on its hinges; and the Roman bent
His spear-point downwards as the bearers pass'd
Bending beneath their burden. There was one,
Only one mourner. Close beside the bier,
Crumpling the pall up in her withered hands,
Followed an aged woman. Her short steps
Faltered with weakness, and a broken moan
Fell from her lips, thicken'd convulsively
As her heart bled afresh. The pitying crowd
Followed apart, but no one spoke to her.
She had no kinsman; she had lived alone-
A widow with one son. He was her all—
The only tie she had in the wide world—
And hers was dead. They could not comfort her.
Jesus drew near to Nain, as from the gate
The funeral came forth. His lips were pale

With the noon's sultry heat.

Stood thickly on His brow;

The beaded sweat and on the worn

And simple latchets of His sandals lay
Thick the white dust of travel.

He had come

Since sunrise from Capernaum, staying not
To wet His lips by green Bethsaida's pool,
Nor wash His feet in Kishon's silver springs,
Nor turn Him southward upon Tabor's side
To catch Gilboa's light and spicy breeze.
Gennesaret stood cool upon the east,
Fast by the sea of Galilee, and there
The weary traveller might bide till eve;
And on the alders of Bethulia's plain

The grapes of Palestine hung bright and wild ;
Yet turned He not aside, but, gazing on
From every swelling mount, he saw afar

Amid the hills the humble roofs of Nain,
The place of His next errand, and the path
Upon the east lay pleasant Galilee.

Forth from the city came the pitying crowd;
Followed the stricken mourner. They came near
The place of burial, and with straining hands
Closer upon her breast she grasped the pall,
And with a gasping sob, quick as a child's,
And an inquiring wildness dashing through
The thin grey lashes of her fevered eyes,
She came where Jesus stood beside the way.
He looked upon her, and His heart was moved.
"Weep not," He said, and as they staid the bier,
And at His bidding laid it at His feet,

He gently drew the pall from out her grasp,
And laid it back in silence from the dead.
With troubled wonder the mute throng drew near
And gazed on His calm looks. A minute's space
He stood and prayed; then taking the cold hand,
He said, "Arise!" and instantly the breast
Heaved in its cerements, and a sudden flush
Ran through the lines of the divided lips;
And with a murmur of his mother's name,
He trembled, and sat upright in his shroud;
And while the mourner hung upon his neck,
Jesus went calmly on his way to Nain.

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