THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.

"Now Jacob's well was there. Jesus therefore, being wearied with his journey, sat thus on the well: and it was about the sixth hour. There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her. Give me to drink," "-ST. JOHN, iv. 6 & 7.

Sultry and still, the noon-tide hour,
Samaria's walls are gleaming nigh,—
The palm-tree forms a welcome shade,
Where gentle breezes sigh :-
And not a cloud was seen to lour,
In fair Judea's sky.

An ancient well was standing there,

Its bright cool fountain clear and deep;

No sound disturbs the fervid air,

All nature seems to sleep

A holy pause,-a list'ning fear,

A sabbath rest to keep.

THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA.

There rested by that ancient well,

A traveller, all alone,

On him the trees' broad shadows fell,

And flitting gleams were thrown,

Over a face serenely pale,

In which the Godhead shone!

And who is she-approaching near,
To that still fountain's side?
Gently upon her listening ear,

The words of truth abide,—

The voice divine,-pointing the way,

Where living waters glide!

Her life of sin,-her darkened soul,

Are open to His eye,

Before her mental vision roll

Dark shadows, long pass'd by,

Of former crime,-her waken'd soul,

Is aching silently.

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She flies-"Oh! see a wond'rous One,

Who tells of all my woe!

A more than Prophet, all alone,

Beside yon water's flow,

He speaks of things divine,-of all
My weary soul would know."

Unfathom'd depth of Love Divine, That from thy glory stoop'd so low, For ever Lord, may we be Thine,

And o'er us still Thy mercy show,Fountain of all our hope,-from Thee, Does life eternal flow!

THE POOR WIDOW.

"And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing."-ST. MARK, Xii. 42.

I see through ambient air,

That temple rising fair,

Where the soft morning light was slowly stealing,

O'er the rich pavement's dye,

On many a column high,

Long vista'd aisles in mellow shade revealing.

And to the "Treasury" came,

The sons of wealth and fame;

And largely they, of their abundance gave,

And proudly dealt they there

The wealth they well could spare,

The burden'd conscience, from its weight to save.

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But who was she?-the meek,

With sorrow's faded cheek,

The widow lone, who humbly gave her all,

Unnoticed and unknown,

Save to the worldling's frown;

Yet lives her name, when states and empires fall!

And still shall live:-unseen

The form divine had been,

Who o'er against the Treasury reclining,

The inward motive scann'd,

And mark'd the widow's hand

Bestow her all,-on heaven her sole relying!

Oh! not the outward deed,

Will gain approval's meed,

From One whose eyes the secret thoughts discern:

For the lone widow's mite,

Was glorious in His sight,

Who bids us all her self-denial learn!