SPRING SABBATH WALK. Most earnest was his voice! most mild his look, As with raised hands he blessed his parting flock. He is a faithful pastor of the poor ; He thinks not of himself; his Master's words, Feed, feed my sheep *, , are ever at his heart, The cross of CHRIST is ay before his eyes. "So when he had dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me more than these? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my lambs. He saith unto him again the second time, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me? He saith unto him, Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. He saith unto him, Feed my sheep. He saith unto him the third time, Simon, son of Jo O, how I love, with melted soul, to leave The house of prayer, and wander in the fields That dips its pale leaves in the swollen stream! Of moss-couched violet, or interrupt The merle's dulcet pipe,-melodious bird! He, hid behind the milk-white sloe-thorn spray, (Whose early flowers anticipate the leaf) Welcomes the time of buds, the infant year. nas, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved, because he said unto him the third time, Lovest thou me? And he said unto him, Lord, thou knowest all things, thou knowest that I love thee. Jesus saith unto him, Feed my sheep."-John xxi. 15.-17. Sweet is the sunny nook, to which my steps Have brought me, hardly conscious where I roamed, Unheeding where, so lovely all around, The works of God, arrayed in vernal smile. Oft at this season, musing, I prolong My devious range, till, sunk from view, the sun A SUMMER SABBATH WALK. DELIGHTFUL is this loneliness; it calms My heart pleasant the cool beneath these elms, Here nature in her midnoon whisper speaks: Save when the wren flits from her down-coved nest, |